Page 119 of Mommy

Ivory

I’d like to say that time heals everything, and I’m doing a lot better now that almost a week has passed, but I quickly realized that whoever came up with that saying lied to all of us.

Time doesn’t do shit, except disconnecting you from the root to your problem.

Maybe for some people that means they hurt less, but for me it just means I feel lonely and misunderstood. That’s what little good time did for me.

After two days at home, I couldn’t take it anymore and returned to the shelter. As expected, Shelly only needed to look at me once to know that something was wrong, and she cornered me when I made us tea. I told her about Derek and even though I left a huge part out, it felt good to have her hug me, and tell me that things would sort themselves out.

Every day I walk into the shelter, and religiously check the fostered board.

It’s just a pin board, where we pin photos of adoptable dogs that we don’t have at the shelter so that people have a visual for them. All of the dogs at Ez’s house are on the board. And Posie. Once one of the dogs gets adopted, the picture is then moved to a bigger board on the opposite wall labeled ‘Adopted’.

I’m only waiting for the day when Posie’s picture is no longer up there. My nerves are strung tight every morning when I step over the threshold, scared that he gave her back. Scared that he gave up on her. That she and the litter ended up here at the shelter.

Maybe a small part of me waits for that day to come because it’ll give me a reason to storm back into the past and change something.

If Derek gave up fostering Posie, it would give me a good reason to yell at him. And to yell at him, I would have to see him, and—it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter what I would say to him.

Her picture is always still in place.

A picture I took of her with Derek’s phone. In it, she’s still pregnant, but she already has the brightest smile on her face as the autumn sun falls in rays onto her face, catching on her iced coffee colored fur. That feels like it happened a lifetime ago. In a different universe, to a different person.

The picture continuing to hang on the board means, at least for her, the dream continues. Or maybe it was never a dream for her, but something real.

Quickening my step, I dash around the corner and arrive at the entrance to the shelter with a minute to spare. The door is already unlocked, but there’s no one at the front desk, so Shelly must be in her office.

Perfect.

Of course she picked up on my stressed out glances at the foster-board, and I’ve grown tired of her pitying smiles. Even if her picture is still there every time I look, my anxiety doesn’t lessen. The moment leading up to seeing her smile is still stretching out before me, making me itch in my shivering skin.

Today is no different.

My hands still shake as I push open the door, nerves grinding my teeth as I scan the board across the room.

I stare at the blank spot, feeling the anger starting to boil inside of me.

He actually did it.

How could he?

How could he put her in a kennel after offering her a safe place? How could he do that to her when she loved him so much?

I can feel the tears form in my eyes but I’m not sure what emotion they tie to. Anger? Disappointment? Sadness?

Unmoving, I stand before the board looking at the empty space where Posie’s picture should be.

Anger.

Even if we had fucked up the being together thing, Posie had no part in that. She’s just a dog, deserving of a safe and happy life. The fact that Derek would take that from her just because we didn’t work out turns my vision into a red haze.

My teeth press together, the burning sensation in my eyes remaining even as the tears retreat. But my feet don’t carry me out of the shelter, instead they start moving in the opposite direction.

Shelly’s office is right next to the break room, only a short distance away.

She’ll know where Posie is. She’ll tell me if she’s in a kennel already.

The wooden door is closed, but that won’t stop me.