Fetch

Fetch

The texture of the wall cooled my sweating palms as my forehead rested in that soft space between my thumb and pointing finger. Tears inside stormed against the medicated damn in my mind. Is there a grave of smiles out there in the yard somewhere? The white room glowed yellow in the night and irritating sounds from the neighbor’s television ruined the chorus of singing crickets. Groaning noises came from my aching stomach, but it hurt too much to eat and I was fatter than I’d ever been in my life. A dead fly hung in the web above my window, reflected in the dark glass. Moving in was just like starting school, all butterflies and a bright future until the moments stretch out miserable and pointless. I’d love it here if only I weren’t haunting the place.

I read the words again, as though they’d change. Frigid air breathed over my skin from the vent that stared at me. It was too hot to turn it off. I looked in the fridge, as though I didn’t remember what it held. I still couldn’t eat. The floorboards creaked under my socks. The cupboard was open and my sleeping pills smiled at me. If only melatonin and hydroxyzine weren’t perfectly safe in higher doses.

I sat on my mattress like a depressed Buddha and got a whiff of copper from the week that always returned. The doghair sprinkled across everything said not to quit, not while she ‘s here. Anyway, I didn’t own a gun anymore. That’s reason enough to live. Didn’t I have any memories that didn’t feel like shit? I put my thumbs over my ears and pushed, listening to darkness. I don’t want to tell my story.

Lady came bounding in, jumped up onto the mattress and laid her favorite toy sloping wet in my lap. She’d be thrilled if only I shared her energy, but she didn’t complain. I let her lead the way and sat on the porch. This I could do. She set the toy down where I could reach it. I lifted the slick drooling object and tossed it to her pattering steps. Even in the dark, she caught it every time.

Her joy made me smile a little. I could learn something from this dog. The toy got more and more slick as we played. It started to feel like rain when I tossed it. Nothing else changed. She brought it back and set it in our spot. She waited patiently as I lifted it up then bursted after it like a shooting star. She came prancing back to me with that canine smile. Time ticked away with every step of our game. When she grew tired she followed me back inside.

I sat back down on the bed and she jumped up, circled around, then plopped her head on my knee without a care in the world. It consoled me that my misery did not make her miserable.

Why couldn’t the rest of life be as simple? Silence at last as the neighbor turned off that awful noise. Crickets clocked the hour away and Lady fluttered her feet in a dream. An engine thundered quietly across the sky. Moths attempted suicide on the window pane.

I want to be like my dog. What mystery motivates her to do the same thing day after day with such joy? She was my teacher, showing me the way to happiness, and I was blind. I need a toy. I need something to chase. I need a master to throw it for me. I’ve tried to play so many games, but my masters have all abused me.

My first masters were my parents. I played kick the can once with my dad, the only game of fetch we ever played together. My second master was God, whom I befriended through my parents and grew close to in their absence, but he killed my best friend, his only son, and blamed me for it. For some reason I couldn’t explain it seemed worse realizing God never existed. I guess because I wasn’t close to anyone else and didn’t know how to be. My third master was love, but first he was a pedophile and then he was a narcissist. My forth masters were employers, but I either ran away or got sent to the pound. My fifth master should probably be money, but I can’t bring myself to serve him. At least I have a kennel to come to, while I can afford it.

If only I could learn to play fetch with myself and get paid for it.

Maybe I can.

Would Lady be just as happy if an inanimate object threw the ball for her? Would she be just as happy if she had access to all the fresh food and water she ever needed, without my help? I couldn’t bring myself to perform that experiment.

Assuming she’d be happy without me, she still must be taught to play fetch with herself. Assuming she needed me to be her master still demanded we play fetch. Either way, I need a game to play.

Her soft fur warmed my leg and her head leaned over, exhaling into my lap. Something hot filled my eyes and stopped before dripping. In the morning we’ll play fetch again.