Her face scrunches up. “How was I supposed to know you were out here with a scared dog?”
“Did you even check first? Or did you just come running out here half-cocked?”
“Why would I check? Everyone comes in and out all day long, and there weren’t any issues.”
Holding Mae a little tighter, I reply, “That’s why I wait until the end of the day to bring this dog out here. She doesn’t do well with other people or animals.”
“And you’re really mad at me for not knowing that?”
“No, I’m mad at you for not thinking before you act! Classic Jo–always acting without considering the consequences.”
With one hand still on Daisy’s leash, she sets the other on her hip. “I’m starting to think this has gotten way more personal than just talking about a dog.”
“Think whatever you want, Jo,” I scoff.
“No, please, say what you want to say, Beau. Tell me how awful I am and how much you hate me.”
“What good would that do? It’s not going to change how you act.”
She gets a small smile on her lips. “Fuck, Beau. I’m giving you the perfect opportunity to give me some hell. You’ve clearly been holding onto some anger, but classic Beau–you just can’t say what you want to say.”
“You don’t want to know all the things I want to say to you.”
“Try me, pretty boy.”
Part of me wants to sail into her and tell her every single grievance I have with her. I want to finally yell at her for leaving and tell her how much she really hurt me.
But what good would it do? It seems to me that all it would accomplish would be making me sound pathetic.
All I decide to say is, “I think you’re selfish. And I think your wild and reckless actions are harmful to everyone around you.”
She nods. “There we go. Now, we’re getting somewhere.”
“No, Jo. We aren’t getting anywhere. We are right where we were when you left. Nowhere.”
“Are you seriously going to hate me forever?”
I have no idea the answer to that, but right now, I want to make her feel as shitty as she’s made me feel. I’m about to tell her I don’t see my feelings ever changing, but the back door of the shelter swings open again.
Sweet, chipper Annie now looks mad as hell. “What on Earth is wrong with you two?”
She doesn’t give either of us a chance to speak. “People inside and out in the parking lot can hear you going at it like a couple of crazy people.”
“Sorry, Annie,” we say in unison.
“I can’t have this here. Your negativity isn’t good for the animals. Both of you get out of here. Don’t come back until you work out whatever issues the two of you have.”
She storms back inside while Jo and I slowly follow her.
“Way to go,” Jo mutters under her breath.
“Me? You’re the one who showed up uninvited.”
“Yes, I came to volunteer at the animal shelter. I’m such a monster.” Every word drips with sarcasm. “You know, I volunteered here long before you did. I was here first.”
“You left. That negates you being here first.”
“That’s ridiculous. You’re being a baby.”
