Say That Again

by Sasson, Gemini

  Gently, he dried me with towels, patting around my face and neck and massaging me vigorously over my back and tummy. Then he took a cotton ball and, dousing it with a clear liquid, dabbed it over my sores.

  It stings!

  I threw myself against the back of the tub, which only made him laugh. He dug his fingers in my mane and applied more of the firewater.

  After that, he took me into the kitchen, where he took sausage links out of the refrigerator. He diced them up and cooked them in a pan, then sat down at the table and ate some from a plate. But the rest he left in the skillet. Which he put on the floor for me.

  Trust is won in small gestures.

  And what a fool I was to have thought that a handful of sausages meant that he pledged his loyalty to me. Because after that he took me on a ride in his truck.

  And car rides for me have never, ever been good.

  I puked up every last sausage bit. But he kept driving. If this day was going to end badly, I would at least leave evidence that I had been there.

  —o00o—

  This time, I was thrown in the kennel runs at the shelter, where the other adults were kept. Evelyn was not there when the farmer brought me in to the shelter. Instead, I met Aaron — and I loathed him instantly. He never looked into my eyes. His voice was flat, his movements sluggish, bordering on lazy. He did as little as possible, making a show of it when visitors came through, then sitting back down at his desk to watch TV and eat nonstop when he was alone.

  When the young couple came in two days later, he waved them toward the runs on the far end, where mine was. They stopped at each kennel, the woman clutching her man whenever a dog barked loudly or jumped at the door, then grasping the chain link and making little kissy noises whenever the dog hung back. Disinterested, I slunk to the back of my kennel and curled up into a ball.

  They stopped at my door and peered in.

  “Is that the one he was talking about?” the young man said. His diamond-studded earrings flashed in the cold fluorescent light. Dark hair framed a hardened face. Swirling lines of color, a design of some kind, began at the sides of his neck, disappearing beneath the collar of his white T-shirt.

  “Yeah, Mario, I think so. It’s the only Border Collie here.”

  I am so not a Border Collie, I wanted to say.

  “Looks kinda scrawny.”

  The girl, barely a woman, tilted her head observantly. Jet black ringlets bobbed with every movement. Her clothes were impossibly tight, surely not comfortable. Even less practical were the golden, spiked heels on which she balanced. “Just young. Maybe underfed.”

  Older than my years. And starved.

  “Sure you don’t want that silver-blue pit bull back there? That’s a rare color. We could make some stud money off of him. He’d make a good guard dog, too. Keep you safe when I’m not home.”

  “I want a smart dog, like in that movie Babe. Not a Cujo.”

  “I don’t know, Ariella. This one doesn’t look like much of a watchdog to me.”

  “You said —”

  “I know, I know. Just trying to help you reason things through, babe. You need to learn to make decisions with your head, not your heart. Smart choices.”

  “You saying I’m dumb?”

  “Christ, no, baby girl. I’d never do that. But I know dogs. And I just want the best for you.”

  Pouting, Ariella tugged at the strings of his hoodie. “Whose birthday is it, anyway?”

  Mario held his hands up in surrender.

  She snuggled close, laying her head on his chest. “I know I can always count on you to take care of me.”

  His hands went around her back, then slid down over her plump buttocks. He whispered something in her ear and she purred in response.

  I tucked my muzzle beneath my paw and closed my eyes, hoping they’d get the message. Mario took a firm hold of her elbow and guided her away.

  Relieved, I stretched out on the cool concrete. The urine smell was stronger here than in the puppy room, since Aaron was so slow to clean it up. Already my newly washed fur reeked of some other dog’s piss.

  I was half asleep when the click-click-click of Ariella’s heels rang out. Stopping in front of my kennel, she fished around in an oversized black leather bag and brought out a long, pink, satiny leash. Then she took out a collar, glittering with jewels.

  It was so not me.

  Aaron flipped up the latch for her with a breathy grunt. He flicked a hand at me, indicating for her to go in. Behind him stood Mario, arms crossed, his dark flinty eyes staring me down, challenging me.

  A person’s eyes, I was learning, told me everything. In a glance, I could sense the slow boil of anger that was Mario, the bland indifference that was Aaron, and the flighty fickleness of Ariella.

  Ariella clipped the leash and collar together, then held them out to me. “What do you think, huh? Wanna come home with me, pretty boy?”

  Not really.

  If she and Mario were a pair and living with her meant being glared at by him, then no. Absolutely not. I would rather stay here in this piss-soaked purgatory. At least Aaron wasn’t a bother. Nor did he look like he kicked puppies for sport.

  I backed into the corner, pressed my face to the unyielding cement wall. She slipped the collar over my head and ran a hand down my neck. Her long nails raked at my chest. In spite of myself, I leaned into her touch. No one had ever scratched me there. Ever. I felt ... delirious.

  Against my better judgment, I walked out of the kennel with Ariella. I sat in the backseat of Mario’s black sports car, my neck stretched forward to seek Ariella’s magic fingers. But she was busy combing through her purse, which contained a hundred items of fascination for her.

  One arm dangling out his window, Mario drove home at breakneck speed, the music from the speakers booming so loudly it vibrated the car’s frame.

  As car rides went, it turned out not to be any better than the others. With car rides, I had figured out, it was all about the destination.

  —o00o—

  My new home was nicer than any of the others had been, and whenever it was just Ariella and me, life was, well, not great, but good enough. She always remembered to feed me, my water dish seldom went dry, and there was a basket of toys and bones tucked in a corner of the living room. At first, I wasn’t quite sure what to do with them, or if I was even allowed to chew on them or carry them about. But Ariella encouraged me to take them and seemed content with my behavior when I was gnawing on a bone.

  The first day I was with her, Ariella called me Brutus, after a cat she once owned. It was an insult, but what say did I have in the matter? The next morning she changed my name to Chip, but by afternoon I was Chester, and by evening Charlie. Within the first week, I had been called by no less than ten different names, none of them Echo.

  In the end, she named me Buddy. As in, ‘Hey, Buddy.’ Mostly, I think it was because she couldn’t remember the last thing she’d decided to call me.

  Whenever she wasn’t working, Ariella took me on walks. Always once a day, but sometimes twice. Although never for very long, because she always wore high heels. That was one human fashion trend I’d never fathom.

  The only problem was that Ariella worked. A lot. And Mario didn’t like that. He complained about her hours, the chores that were not done, all the suppers she did not make for him. It was sad that what made Ariella so happy, only built resentment in Mario.

  “Hey, babe.” Mario walked out of the bedroom, his eyes heavy with recent sleep. It was midmorning and Ariella and I had been up for hours. His boxer briefs hung loosely on his hips. His chest, hard with muscle, was clean shaven. He often spent hours in the spare bedroom, lifting weights and then looking at himself in the full length mirror on the closet door. Clearly, he was in love with himself. “Why don’t you stay home today? I have some things in mind I’d like to do to you. Things I know you like.”

  “Can’t. I have to work.”

  “Twelve hours every day? That job more import
ant to you than I am?”

  “My job pays well, Mario.” She braced her hands on her waist, defiant. “I can buy my own clothes and —”

  Dark eyes flashing, he grabbed her wrist and yanked her against his chest. “I can buy you things, babe. Why don’t you just let me take care of you?”

  She struggled against his grip as she pushed a hand against his chest. “What can you buy me with a part-time job, huh? Your paycheck doesn’t even cover the rent.”

  Something in him snapped. He shoved her against the kitchen counter. Before she could recover, he grabbed her arm, twisting it behind her.

  “Let go! You’re hurting me.”

  “You hurt me every day you walk out that door. You think it’s a game to make fun of my manhood. Not my fault I can’t find a fulltime job. You think I haven’t been trying?!”

  I scurried behind the couch. Life, so far, had taught me to preserve myself. Yet something else was stirring within me: the need to protect those I cared about. Unfortunately, I didn’t know how to do that. I was not brave. Bravery meant boldness, the ability to act without regard for one’s own welfare. If I protected Ariella, I would put myself in danger.

  Then I thought about the pig, and how I had run from the Grunwalds’ house before Earl came out the door and found us. And I regretted that. I truly did.

  “Please, let go, Mario. Please,” Ariella whimpered. “I just meant that my job’s important to both of us. I wasn’t putting you down. Honest.”

  He bunched her hair in his other fist, turning her away from him as he slammed his hips into her from behind to pin her against the counter. Bending over her, he pressed his mouth to her ear. “Am I important to you, babe?”

  Ariella was crying softly now, her small sobs broken by groans of pain as Mario forced her arm farther.

  “Am I?!” he screamed.

  She stiffened at the force of his words, her eyes shut tight. “Yes,” she whispered.

  I crept forward, my heart breaking for her. She had been kind to me and tolerant of him; he had been possessive of her, manipulative, domineering — and even jealous of me. Why couldn’t she see that? Why was she even with him?

  “Do you love me, baby girl?”

  “Y-y-yes.”

  “Say it.”

  “I love you, Mario.”

  “Do you want to make me happy?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then you’re staying home today, right?”

  Her head moved in an almost imperceptible nod.

  He loosened his hold on her gradually, but before he let her go, he told her, “Get your phone. Call in sick. Tell them you have the flu and might be out for a few days.”

  “A few —?”

  “Just do it. You don’t want to make me unhappy.” This time he didn’t yell or hurt her. The flatness of his tone delivered the threat quite plainly.

  Ariella complied, telling her boss exactly what he had told her to. When she ended the call, he took the phone from her and tossed it across the room. It bounced off a wall and hit the floor, breaking into pieces.

  “There,” he said. “They won’t bother you now.”

  She kept her eyes on the phone as he unbuttoned her blouse and slid it from her shoulders. Every time his fingers brushed her skin, she shuddered. I slinked closer, my head low, watchful. Mario buried his mouth in the space between her breasts, lapping and sucking greedily like a pup at its mother’s teat. Ariella gasped and bit her lip. What was he doing? Whatever it was, she didn’t seem to be enjoying it. Was he ... was he biting her?

  A growl rumbled in my belly. I wasn’t even sure where it came from. I just knew I didn’t like what he was doing to her. Hell, I didn’t like him, period.

  Mario’s eyes shifted to me, but only for a moment, as his fingers wandered down to her skirt, shifting it downward.

  I growled louder.

  “Shut the dog in the bathroom, Ariella,” he said.

  “Why?”

  “I don’t like how he’s looking at me. Besides, what we do is none of his goddamn business.”

  “He’s okay, Mario. Just leave him alone.”

  “Fine. I’ll do it.” Shoving her onto the couch, Mario came at me.

  But there was no way I was going to let that mean bastard separate me from her. Not if she was in danger.

  As his hand came down, I jumped up and sank my teeth into the meat between his thumb and first finger. And I held on, clamping my jaw tighter. I wanted to hurt him, just like he’d hurt Ariella.

  Pummeling my ribs with the fist of his free hand, he yelled at Ariella to get me off of him, but she just stood there, lost in shock. With each blow to my chest, it became harder and harder to breathe. My jaws were tiring, too, and my feet sliding on the smooth tile floor as he jerked his arm back. I needed to adjust my bite. So I let go of his hand, ducked low, and bit him in the calf.

  Dumb move on my part. Because it was just enough time for him to grab a skillet off the counter and swing it at my head.

  I staggered backward, my head ringing, then stumbled and fell.

  I saw two of everything, then three, four ...

  From a distance, I heard Ariella screeching, “No, Mario! No!”

  A belt went around my muzzle. I felt myself lifted up.

  The next thing I was aware of was being in the back of Mario’s sports car, music banging around me and rattling my bones, the car bumping over a rough road, and then ...

  A rush of warm air. Sunlight bathing me. Growing stronger. Hotter. Brighter.

  The smell of crushed grass. Lilacs.

  Birds ... singing.

  chapter 13: Hannah

  Hannah saw dogs everywhere. On TV, in magazine ads, sitting on porches as her family drove to town, and walking down the road with ladies in high heels. She even saw them in the shapes of the clouds and random patterns of the bathroom floor tiles. There was nothing she wanted more than to have a dog and the day she got one would surely be the best day of her life.

  Since coming home, a strange thing had happened to her. Not ‘strange’ as in bad. Just new and different. Too much of anything still overwhelmed her, but when it came to animals, she felt a new relationship to them. A connection, although she couldn’t quite put her finger on why that was so. Except that sometimes she thought she heard them speak to her. Not that they said words out loud. But whatever they were thinking, she heard it in her head, as if their thoughts were hers, too.

  She wasn’t entirely sure she liked that.

  And so, Hannah ignored the voices, turning her face away when she heard them, busying herself with other important matters, like cutting out all the pictures of dogs she could find in her mommy’s magazines and pasting them to a piece of cardboard she’d ripped from the box their new dishwasher had come in.

  “Hannah.” Jenn knelt beside her, admiring the collage she’d created out of dog pictures. “I need to talk to you about something.”

  Hannah flipped through a magazine she’d already looked through twice, just in case she’d missed a picture. There was an ad with kittens in it, but she didn’t want a cat. They were too snooty. Even the barn cats.

  “Kindergarten starts this fall for you. They’re having sign-ups over at Faderville Elementary, where your Gramma Lise used to teach. It’s a nice school, with a big playground and lots of other kids. Maybe some of them could be your friends? You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

  No, Hannah hadn’t missed anything. There were no more dog pictures. She could cut out things a dog might like, like food or toys or a little kid’s swimming pool, but that wasn’t the same. It was cheating. Still, she’d been through the whole stack of magazines and didn’t have nearly enough to fill up her big cardboard square. This just wouldn’t do. Maybe if her daddy brought the newspaper in, there’d be something in there?

  “Hannah, are you listening to me?” Jenn sat back on her bottom and blew out a puff of air. “No, of course you’re not.” Gently, she took Hannah’s chin in her fingers and turned her daughter�
��s face toward her. “We need to go to the school. Mrs. Watley wants to talk to you. She’ll ask you some questions, simple things like counting and ABCs. Stuff you already know. You need to answer her, okay?”

  Why was her mommy interrupting her to talk about school? “Maura goes to school,” she said, trying to get her mother back on track.

  “I know. And you will, too, next year, sweetie. Isn’t that exciting?”

  She scrunched her mouth up to show her disapproval. “Nope.”

  “Oh, now, don’t be such a sourpuss. Bet you’ll make a lot of new friends.”

  Gripping the glue bottle tightly, Hannah stared blankly at her. This was getting frustrating. She only needed one friend — a dog. Besides, she didn’t particularly like other children. They didn’t understand her, just like she didn’t understand them. Anyway, what was the point of going to school when you could learn things at home?

  “Oh, Hannah, look.” Jenn pointed at the white glob of glue pooling on the floor in front of Hannah. “Can you help me clean this mess up? We don’t want anyone stepping in it and getting stuck now, do we?”

  Hannah hated cleaning up, but she did it anyway. Because more than she disliked cleaning up, she didn’t like her mommy getting upset with her. So she tore a few paper towels from the roll, swiped it through the gooey puddle, then threw it in the trash and went outside.

  “You’re not done, Hannah,” her mother said.

  But Hannah was already on her way down the front steps, looking for her daddy to see if he had the newspaper yet.

  Down the road by her Gramma’s house, a low silver car stopped, music booming from inside. A man got out, laid something in the ditch, then got back in his car and sped away. How strange, she thought, but quickly forgot about it when she saw her daddy out on the lawnmower, going back and forth, making long symmetrical stripes across the yard.

  While she waited for him to finish, she sat down beneath her favorite tree and drew dog pictures in the dirt.