The first time he came back after starting college, I was worried that our friendship wouldn’t be enough anymore. Or that I’d ruined it that night at the bonfire. But my fears were unfounded. When we’re together, it’s just us. At college, though… I have no idea if he’s dating or seeing someone. We never really talk about things like that. He probably is. I mean, why wouldn’t he be? He’s good-looking, smart, and fun. Of course he’s someone who would have people interested in him.People. Guys. Other guys.
I brush my hand across my chest, not sure how to feel about the idea of Dennis being with another guy. I’ve always been protective of him, but somehow this doesn’t feel like that. It feels more like… I don’t know… The tightening sensation in my chest is confusing. I don’t date a lot myself, only when Mom’s nagging becomes too much. Then I cave until a few awkward and forgettable dates later, it’s all over. It’s not that I don’t want a relationship. I do. I want someone to spend my life with. But so far, I haven’t met anyone who makes me feel even remotely as content and happy as I do with Dennis. But he’s moving forward with his life, and I’m the same as I always was, so it makes sense for him to date. Shit, what if he’s already fallen in love? The question burns in my chest, on my tongue, on my lips. I need to know if there’s someone like that in his life. Someone special. I don’t know why, but I justneedto know.
What you really want to know is if he’s still single. The truth slams home. Still, I ask. “Are you—”
He stops, and I nearly smack my front into his back before I can finish my question. “What was that? Did you hear that?”
“What?”
“That sound. It was right there.” He tilts his head, looking around. “There? You hear it?”
I nod, hearing a frail whimper coming from somewhere to my right, from the thick underbrush, my question quickly forgotten.
Dennis walks to the edge of the trail, skimming the treeline. “Sounds like an animal.” He gestures at me as he makes his way through some shrubs. “C’mon. This way.”
I follow him, the bushes scratching my bare legs, the occasional thorn digging into my skin. The whimper grows louder as we make our way through the underbrush, pitiful whines and yelps guiding us.
Suddenly, I’m not grown-up Mike anymore. I’m thirteen-year-old Mike, and it’s my mother’s animal-like cries coming from the living room as she collapses in Mrs. Winston’s arms. Despite the warm day, I feel cold, goosebumps washing down my bare arms, the small hairs at the back of my neck standing up. I breathe in through my nose, focusing on Dennis weaving past branches and bushes in front of me. I focus all my attention on him. I’m with Dennis. It’snotthat day. It’s not.
“Shit!” Dennis blurts, then takes off running toward a small clearing. I jog after him, nearly stumbling over a root sticking up from the ground. He’s crouching when I reach him, and a small dog is lying on its side in front of him. It’s hard to tell because it’s nothing but skin and bones, but it looks like a pup.
“Mike?” He looks up at me, a watery sheen to his brown eyes, his bottom lip shaking. “Oh, Mike, look at her.”
I crouch next to him, taking in the clearly starved animal, its chest heaving from pain and probably fear, too.
“Poor girl,” I murmur. “How the hell did she end up here?” Then I notice a large gash running from the dog’s left hip joint and all the way down its thigh. Crusted blood coats the fur around the wound, and flies squirm and buzz around it. It looks infected, with some yellow stuff oozing from the cut, and a foul, sickly odor hanging in the air.
“She’s hurt, Mike. We need to…” He reaches for the dog, but it snarls at him, baring its teeth.
“Careful!” I bat his hand away. “Don’t touch her. She’s scared to death.”
Dennis frowns at me, a challenging glimmer in his brown eyes. “We can’t leave her here. She’ll die.”
I offer him a small, reassuring smile. “I know. We won’t leave her. We’ll take her with us.”
His face visibly relaxes as he exhales. “Yeah?” He takes in the dog, its eyes now closed. She’s a beauty, despite her current state; jet-black fur, a slim, fox-like look to her features.
“Yeah,” I say as I start pulling off my T-shirt. “But don’t touch her.”
Dennis nods, holding back, watching my every move. I fold my T-shirt together until it resembles a band. Then, carefully, I lean in over the now-sleeping dog, sliding my T-shirt under her snout. She stirs but doesn’t wake, probably exhausted from being out here for God knows how long without food or water. I quickly tie the fabric around her snout, making sure it’s secure and tight. When I’m confident that the dog is pacified, I slide my arms under her and lift her from the ground. She weighs next to nothing, her fur soft and warm against my chest, her heart beating steadily.
“Shit, Den. She’s just a pup.” My throat tightens, anger filling my chest. Who the fuck just leaves a dog out here? No way she just ran out here all by herself.
Dennis shakes his head, tears pooling in his eyes. “I know. You think you can carry her to the truck?”
“Yeah, I’m good. She weighs nothing.” I adjust the dog in my arms, tucking her head under my chin as I try to avoid touching the wound. “How far do you think? Twenty minutes, maybe?”
Dennis nods, then starts walking back out toward the trail. “Yeah, no more than that. Careful.” He points to the ground where he steps over a branch.
Within minutes, we’re back on the trail, hiking the rest of the way back to where we parked my truck, as fast as we can. The dog whimpers now and then but continues to sleep in my arms. Dennis stays close to me, his left arm brushing against my side from time to time. When wereach the truck, I gesture for Dennis to get in, and once he’s seated and buckled in, I carefully place the dog in his arms.
“Thank you, Mike,” he whispers, his sweaty bangs clinging to his forehead. I offer him a tired smile, ruffling my fingers through his hair.
“Sure thing, squirt.” I wink, and he groans.
We make the drive to the animal shelter in Cannon Beach in silence, except for Dennis’ soft cooing sounds against the dog’s neck. I should tell him not to touch the dog too much, but I don’t.
Once we arrive, the receptionist assesses the dog’s condition and immediately shows us into the back. We’re the only ones there. The air is stuffy, and the smell of animals surrounds us. The veterinarian on-call takes down the little details about the dog that we have, then assures us they’ll take good care of her and that we can check in on the dog in a few days or so if we want to.If we want to.Dennis’s spring break is only a week long.
