The Telescope

"Rapport of Sun, Moon, Earth, and all the constellations. What are the messages by you from distant stars to us?"
-Walt Whitman





The first tomato struck the chain link and fragmented into a spray of seed, skin, and flesh, but the second found its mark, catching the dog squarely on the side of its snout, eliciting a low snarl but no retreat. I looked around for another nice size green one to heave(they were not as ripe, therefore harder and hopefully did more damage), but caught my foot in my bathrobe and came crashing down among the vines, taking several out as I fell against the deer netting that surrounded my garden. The ruckus incited the neighbor’s German shepherd further, producing an angry combination howling and barking as it paced back and forth on its side of the cyclone fence that separated our yards. The porch lights came on at Mrs. Sabbatini’s house as well as my own, lighting up the early morning gloom like flares on a battlefield.

“What the hell’s going on out there?
My wife and stepson were standing on the porch; both smartly dressed for work and school respectively.

I reached out for the netting to pull myself up, but in the semidarkness missed, sprawling out on my back again taking down several more of my heirloom tomato plants with me, my robe now completely undone. Mostly naked, I decided to lay still till the boy returned to the house.

“Nothing, just slipped, I’m okay. Go back inside,” I replied, “I’ll be in a minute.”
“Hurry up, you have to walk Charlie to the bus stop,” Molly shot back shuffling the boy inside.

The shepherd was in a rage and was now joined by his similar minded owner in the yard. I lifted myself up, brushing off as much of the dirt and leaves as I could, and lumbered back towards the house, flipping the bird to Mrs. Sabbatini as I went. She scowled and grabbed her dog by the collar, dragging him back into her house as he protested with gasping, half-choked barks.

I entered the house to the early morning mayhem that would soon give way to my endless hours of quiet. Charlie was rolling his lunch box thermos across the stone kitchen floor, crashing it into the refrigerator and waiting for it to roll back, much to his delight, on the not quite level floors of our old farmhouse. Molly stood in the downstairs bathroom off the kitchen, applying makeup in the mirror while speaking loudly on her cell phone about some legal matter with her assistant at the office. I stood and stared at her, marveling at how good she still looked, a 42-year-old woman who could have passed for 25 easily. People were always surprised I was seven years younger when they found this out, although I’m sure my vanishing hair did not help my case

She noticed me standing there and tilted her head to the side, placing a hand on her hip in exasperation.
“Julie, hold on a minute-” she said into the phone, then dropping it to her side, covering up the mouthpiece.
“For God sakes, Dig, can you cover your self up? A seven year old doesn’t need to see your dick hanging out at 6:30 in the morning.”
I looked down and noticed I hadn’t bothered to sash the robe and quickly retied it.
“What would be a good time?” I said to her with a smile, but she had already returned to her conversation. She mouthed the word “Charlie” and pointed towards the direction of the bus stop.
I turned towards the boy. He stared silently at me a few feet away, thermos in hand.
“Ok Chuck, grab your book bag and let’s roll”. He smiled, replacing the thermos in the lunchbox and placing it in his knapsack. He liked when I called him Chuck, although Molly expressed her disapproval whenever she heard me. Molly and I have been together since he was barely a year old, married since he was two. His real father had lit out for parts unknown while he was still an infant, and Molly’s own father had died when she was young, so I’ve been the only male adult in his short life. I’ve never really felt comfortable as a father figure to him, my role having developed over time into more of a big brother (as an only child, maybe this was something I desired) and he seemed quite content with that, “Dad” not being a term he equated with anyone worth a damn anyway. Molly was not thrilled over the type of bond we have developed, mainly because disciplining fell to her, but he was a good kid, and it was rarely an issue.

Charlie and I headed out towards the end of our long driveway, some 200 yards, where the bus would pick him up. We live about ten miles west of Princeton in area that is a nice blend of suburbia and rural country side, our house sitting on about 4 acres, the Sabbatini’s being the only house within sight. Not too far off were the new developments of interchangeable houses of varying shades of gray and white, encroaching closer each year, but as of yet had not broken the tree line view from our back porch. The area, though a solid hour commute from New York City by train, was exploding with a southerly flow of stockbrokers and advertising executives as the crowded bedroom communities of Connecticut and Long Island became increasingly unaffordable. They merged with the ever expanding University community to swallow huge swaths of farmland.

As the bus pulled away and I headed back to the house, I noticed Mrs. Sabbatini peaking out of her front curtains. I couldn’t resist. I lifted up my robe to my waist and gyrated my hips suggestively, genitalia undulating in all directions. The curtains quickly dropped back into place. I resumed my long trek up the driveway, Molly almost sideswiping me in her BMW as she pulled up next to me.

“Don’t forget to call Chi-Chi’s about the bartending job today. You promised,” she said through the half- rolled down window as she stared straight ahead.
I lied and said I would.
“You’re not going to that stand of yours today are you?” she said, turning and staring directly at me.

As my free time had expanded so had my garden, and with it, a surplus of vegetables which I sold at a roadside stand over by the Delaware river a few miles west of where we lived. My former co-worker, Chet Allen, had let me erect it on his property, next to a little bistro he had purchased a year ago. Jack let me operate rent free (as I barely made anything from my produce sales), but it was hardly out of the goodness of his heart, as many of my customers tended to wander over to the restaurant after perusing my not so awe inspiring selection for a drink or a quick bite to eat.
“That’s only Tuesdays and Thursdays. I’m meeting that student today about the telescope.”
She silently rolled the window up and pulled out into the road, disappearing in the direction of the bus.

I plodded back to the house, draping my grass and dirt stained robe across a dining room chair, and headed into the den to watch some television. I noticed the telescope in the corner, sitting idly as it had been for the better part of a year. It was a beautiful specimen. Molly had given it to me for Christmas the previous year, and even though I had been unemployed for so long and we were watching our money closely, she had paid around $2,000 for it along with several high performance lenses and a motor drive to track the stars. I had always had an interest in astronomy and space since I was a kid. I even had written a few science fiction stories in my teens, and had even shown one to my English teacher my senior year in high school. She said it had shown promise, but I was more concerned about chasing girls and drinking beer, and besides, I was a jock, and jocks did not write science fiction stories. Molly knew this about me, and probably hoped this would spark some long dormant ambition or at least get me off the couch and doing something useful with my time.

The telescope sat in its box in the same corner for two months after Christmas. I finally opened it and perused the instructions, but they seemed hopelessly complicated, and I quickly slipped them back into their plastic package. Eventually, Molly spent an entire Saturday afternoon piecing as much as she could together, and that is how it sat today, partially built upon it’s tripod stand. I had posted a note on the bulletin board in Princeton’s astronomy department a few weeks earlier offering $100(I told Molly it was $25) for help with its assembly and perhaps a few lessons in its operation. A sophomore student, Hannah Cho, had been the only respondent, offering her help in an efficient business like tone asking a few questions about the make and model and type of motor drive. She would be here this afternoon at 3:00.

I flicked on the television, but soon dozed off, dreaming of spaceships, tomatoes, and barking dogs, the details of which escaped me when I awoke several hours later. Late morning is the toughest stretch of the day. Breakfast has been eaten, newspapers read, and three cups of black coffee drained. Molly has long ago left for work. I now have to come up with someway to fill up the next few hours till Miss Hannah Cho arrived. Immediately after my layoff, there were resumes to send, phone calls to make, then, a wave of interviews. What few connections I had in the accounting industry had been exhausted long ago. I had never gotten my CPA, and my experience was limited to keeping the books for a mediocre restaurant chain for eight years. Molly had pushed me to get the CPA for a while, or at the least, to pursue a career at a big five accounting firm, but eventually gave up. I had fallen into accounting in college, like so many others, because I was good with numbers and had no idea what I wanted to do with my life. After ten years of debits and credits, I still did not see myself as a bean counter, and had little interest in becoming a better one. Striving to be the best in something one didn’t really love seemed somehow dishonest to me. I was neither miserable nor happy in my job, just strolling along the path of least resistance, something Molly could not comprehend, but had come to accept as a part of my fabric. I stood and sleepily stretched and wandered into the kitchen smiling to myself. I had never been happier or more content.

The dog stood moping at the door. Advancing years had reduced his yelp to a hoarse grovel, but still quite insistent. He seemed to know I had nothing better to do.
I threw on my worn slippers and opened the door. Gus tore out into the late morning mist with the waddling gait of the aged. Mrs. Sabbatinni’s shepherd had returned to patrolling his side of the fence as Gus took up his customary position several yards on the other. I could still see splotches of tomato on the shepherd’s coat as Gus slowly inched closer, driving the dog into a froth. Satisfied, Gus turned and wobbled back to the deck with what seemed like a grin on his face.
“He’s gonna get you one of these days, Gus.”
He wagged his tail and rubbed his graying muzzle against my leg as I settled into an Adirondack chair on the deck. The Shepherd had quieted and begun to pace back and forth the length of the fence, deepening the dirt trench it had worn over the years. Gus leapt onto my lap, dew and mud covered paws leaving wet prints across my robe, adding to the wealth of stains accumulated since it’s last washing a month ago.

He wasn’t a tiny dog, but certainly not as large as the purebred pointers I had grown up with. Gus had originally been a present for Molly years ago when we had first met. She had read in the paper about a stray adoption day at the local pound, and I reluctantly agreed to check it out. A sadder collection of animals, I’ve never seen.

“Look at him, he’s adorable!” she said, pointing at the mutt that would become Gus, who looked ancient even then. I was not impressed. We were living in a one room apartment on the Upper West Side, I pointed out to her, both of us working long hours in fledgling careers.
“I’ll get up early and take him out, and if we have to, I’ll hire a dog walker,” She said. Molly had made up her mind, and from the two years I had already spent with her, I knew further protestation was in vain. She had used that same decisiveness to move steadily up the ladder in her law firm. Gus was a family member.
True to her word, she took care of him exclusively, and he awarded her with affection he did not share with me. Wherever Molly went in the apartment, Gus followed. If I were home alone, he would mope and pretend I did not exist until she returned. Even after we had moved to our current house, and Molly had an hour and a half commute to the city working long hours, Gus looked upon me as merely another pet in the house, saving his adoration for Molly in the few waking hours they spent together. And I could have cared less.

I scratched his neck as he surveyed the yard, looking for rabbits that he had no hope in catching even if he miraculously spotted one with his failing eyesight. He ignored the five or six deer that lolled by my oversized garden staring longingly at the rows of vegetables and greens on the other side of the 8 foot fence I had erected to keep them out, the two sides having come to a mutual disinterested truce long ago. Gus began to lick the remnants of cream cheese still on my fingers from my morning bagel, wagging his tail effusively until the last trace was gone and then turning his face to mine, flicking his tongue rapidly in and out in a state of canine bliss. Strange how things can change suddenly after so many years. A year and half at home jobless, and now, Gus was my boy.

I lifted Gus off my lap, noticing a new wet spot on my robe from his leaky bladder, and placed him on the porch. He followed me dutifully as I wandered inside, removed my robe, and dropped it on the floor in the corner of the kitchen. I started toward the den in search of the remote control when the phone rang.
“Hello?”
“What are you up to?” It was Molly in a slightly distracted voice.
“Nothing, just took Gus for a walk.”
“You took him for a walk, or opened the door and let him out?” she said.
“Walk.”
Silence from her end.
“What else do you have planned for your busy day?” she said, not really listening for my reply as she gave instructions on a work matter to her assistant.
“I have that kid coming over from the university later, you know, about the telescope,” I replied, knowing she wasn’t really listening.
“The what?”
“Telescope. The kid is coming over to set it up for me. 3:00.”
Another silent pause.
“I’m going to be late tonight, have to go to a cocktail hour for a client, so you’re fending for yourself. There’s a veggie burger in the freezer. Charlie is staying at one of his friends house tonight, they’re working on some school project, so you don’t have to meet him at the bus. And don’t forget to call Chi-Chi’s.”
Before I could lie again, she said she had to run and the line went dead.

I wandered back outside into brilliant early afternoon sunshine, and strolled unhurriedly towards my garden, Gus at my heels. Hannah Cho would not be here for another hour, so I decided to see what I could harvest for tomorrow’s day at the stand. Gus veered left to take up his customary position a few yards from Mrs. Sabbattini’s fence. It amazed me that he never tired of torturing the Shepherd. It would not have surprised me to find out that Gus was a lawyer or investment banker in a previous life.
I opened the garden gate, several deer watching my every move across the yard, and began to inspect the latest ripe vegetables. It was early September and the summer’s crop had steadily tailed off, but there were still several large tomatoes, a few cucumbers, and the ever plentiful zucchini to harvest. I made a basket of the bottom part of my robe and piled what I could inside, and turned to head back towards the house when I saw a beat up Pinto, a lovely shade of primer and rust, creeping up my stone driveway towards me. As the car came to a halt several feet away, driver’s side facing me, I realized I still had the vegetables trussed up in my robe, exposing myself to the occupants. Quickly, I released my grip and a sea of green and red spilled around my feet, the driver staring with a bemused but concerned look on her face. She was a white girl; her skin almost milky, offset by black lipstick and a slight tint of pink to her close cropped hair. She stared for several seconds more, then turned to her passenger, a brief but animated discussion ensuing. Turning back towards me, she rolled down the window.
“Are you Mr. Reeves?” she said warily.
“Call me Dig.”
She laughed in a not quite friendly way.
“Well, ‘Dig’, I will be back in exactly one hour, you dig?” she replied, still eyeing me suspiciously.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” she said turning back to her companion.
I couldn’t quite hear the reply, but the passenger door opened and her friend stepped out. The pale girl threw the car into reverse and began to slowly back down the long driveway, still watching me intently. She raised her index finger and mouthed the words ‘One Hour” again.
“She can’t help herself, she was beaten severely as a child.”
I turned in the direction of the voice and standing before me was a surprisingly tall, thin, Asian girl. Miss Hannah Cho.
“That’s too bad,” was all I could muster.
“Kidding, geez. Hi, I’m Hannah Cho. Where’s your telescope Mr. Reeves? I only have an hour. I’m afraid my roommate doesn’t like you at all, and she won’t let me stay any longer than that,” she said without taking a breath, extending her hand to shake.
“Why not?” I replied taking her hand.
“’Why not’ what? Why doesn’t she like you or why can’t I stay later? Same answer. You’re a fifty year old man, unshaven, standing in the middle of your driveway holding your dirty bathrobe above your waist in the middle of a Monday afternoon,” she stated calmly and with out a hint of disdain.
“I’m not fifty, I’m only thirty-four. And you’re early. I wasn’t expecting you for another hour,” I protested weakly.
“I’m sure you clean up younger,” she said laughing as she pulled her shoulder length black behind her right ear.
“Anyway, you seem alright to me. Where’s that telescope?”
She headed for the house as Gus shot between my legs, tail wagging, in pursuit. He was not fond of strange cars and had been hiding out behind the garden until the coast was clear, but he immediately took to Hannah. She bent down in front of the door, and rubbed his chin.
“Cute dog. What’s his name?”
“Gus.”
“Doesn’t look like a Gus. Looks like a Fifi or something. Must be your wife’s dog,” she said playfully. She looked up and gave a big grin waiting for my reaction.
“Well, she did pick him out.”
She laughed again, this time loudly.
“I knew it.”
She picked up Gus, cradling him in her arms while rubbing the scruff of his neck, and followed me into the kitchen.
“Watch out, he leaks. Would you like something to drink?”
“How bout a beer? What does he leak? Oil?” she added teasingly.
“I wish. Are you old enough to have a beer? You look like you’re 14.”
Which she did, all arms and legs, accentuated by short shorts and a bright yellow tank top. But she moved fluidly with the self-assurance of an athlete, not like the awkward pre teen she appeared to be.
“I’ll be twenty-one in three weeks, would you like me to come back then?” she replied, flashing a striking smile.
I grabbed two Heinekens out of the fridge and popped the tops with the Homer Simpson bottle opener which hung by a string on the handle of the fridge.
“Wow, the good stuff. Nice opener.”
“The Telescope is in the living room,” I said pointing around the corner, “ I’m going to jump in the shower and get dressed. I’ll be down in fifteen minutes.”
“Okay, but you don’t have to dress up for me. Jeans and a tee shirt are fine.”
She laughed again, setting Gus down on the floor and headed around the staircase to the living room, taking a long swig of beer as she glided around the corner.
I leaned back against the counter and watched her disappear into the other room. I finished my beer in two long gulps, placed the empty on the counter and quickly headed up to the master bathroom. Glancing to my left as I ascended the stairs I noticed that Hannah had dragged the telescope from the corner and was on all fours, the directions for the motor drive spread out beneath her. Her long, blue-black hair hanging straight down, almost touching the ground, obscuring her face.
I climbed the remaining stairs and headed to the bathroom. I showered quickly, and decided to shave as well. Studying my reflection in the mirror I realized I did look closer to fifty then my actual thirty-four years. The creases around my eyes and on my forehead had begun to resemble a topographical map of a large river system, dividing and connecting again and again, new tributaries being formed each time I changed my facial expression, expanding into the new deltas where my hairline had receded gently over the last several years. Strangely, I had not really noticed this before. The hair loss, yes, brought up by Molly in passing on more than one occasion, but the furrowed skin was a revelation.
I shaved as rapidly as possible without severing a major artery, not wanting to watch myself in the mirror any longer than necessary, and then dressed, donning tee shirt and jeans as instructed.
I headed down to the living room, but Hannah was not there. The telescope stood in the middle of the room, the motor drive completely assembled beneath the large black cylinder that housed the lens. I wandered into the kitchen and found Hannah, second beer in hand, examining family pictures adhered to the fridge.
“Telescope’s ready-Is this your son?” she said, pulling a photo of Charles off the fridge.
“Stepson.”
“Really? Cute kid. He looks like you, Mr. Reeves, but hey, all you white guys look alike to me,” she said, watching for my reaction.
“Call me Dig.”
“Dig? What kind of name is that?”
“My real name is ‘Doug’, but my little sister pronounced it ‘Dig’ when she was young, and it stuck.”
“I think I’ll call you Mr. Reeves, for now,” she said, as she handed me the photograph and headed back to living room.
“C’mon. I’ll show you how to operate this thing.”
I grabbed another beer from the fridge and followed Hannah, as she glided like a young gazelle, into the den.
“This is really a nice piece of equipment you have here, Mr. Reeves. One of the nicer ones I’ve ever gotten my hands on. I’d really like to test it out, but it won’t be dark for a couple more hours. I can give you the basics, though.”
“Why don’t you stay? I can cook you and your roommate dinner. My wife won’t be home till late.”
She cast a sideways glance then put her eye to the viewfinder lens. The motor kicked to life, and the large body of the telescope began to rotate slowly, eventually coming to rest directly on me.
“Are you any good?”
“Huh?”
“Cooking. Are you any good?”
“Not bad. Can’t be any worse than university food.”
“Princeton food is pretty good, Mr. Reeves. In case you hadn’t noticed, quite a few wealthy people attend Ivy League schools and their parents aren’t about to allow them to eat Raman noodles every night.”
“I’ll do my best. Are you one of them?”
“One what, of the rich or a Raman noodle eater?”
“Rich.”
“Do you want me to tell you that my parents are Korean refugees, opened a drycleaners and saved every penny so their daughter could go to a top school and live the American dream?” The motor whirred to life again; the lens moved deliberately this time, retreating to its original position.
“If that’s the truth.”
“The truth is my family is third generation. My parents are divorced, my father is an obstetrician, my mother lives in Florida, I’m not sure where. My Dad covers most of the tuition, but I have plenty of loans to pay off for the next twenty years.” She looked up, but her dry smile was absent.
“Not what you expected, huh?”
“I wasn’t expecting anything.”
Hannah began to examine the small mound of books in the corner, a collection of assorted astronomy texts I had purchased when I had gotten the telescope, but remained unopened and collecting dust since. She opened one of the thinner volumes, a collection of fluorescent star charts meant to be used in the dark, and began to page through the translucent black pages.
“Why will your wife be late tonight?”
Pulling out the extended leaf of one of the charts, she turned to me, unfolding it in the air between the two of us. The late afternoon sun shown through the slightly transparent plastic, outlining her silhouette and casting an array of dark points, the stars on the map, upon the wall behind her.
“She works very hard.”
“Looks like someone has to.”
Kneeling on the ground, she spread the chart out on the floor and pointed to a set of stars.
“Do you know your constellations Mr. Reeves?”
“I know the Big Dipper.”
She rolled her eyes as I squatted down next to her.
“How ‘bout Orion?”
I was familiar with Orion but decided to play dumb and shook my head.
“Orion the Hunter is one of the most easily recognizable constellations. See these three stars?” Her slim finger traced a short line across the map. “They make up his belt, and these faint stars here are his hanging sword. He’s holding a raised club in one hand and a lion skin in the other. I love the myth.”
“What is the myth?”
She turned her head and stared directly at me.
“Orion was in love with a woman name ‘Merope’ who wasn’t into him. He eventually died when he stepped on ‘Scorpius’ the scorpion. The gods felt sorry for him and placed him in the sky with his two dogs, Canis Major and Minor, along with all the animals he hunted near him to stalk for all eternity. They placed Scorpius on the opposite end of the sky so it would never hurt him again.”
“I guess a little pity from the gods can be a good thing. You can show me the real thing tonight after dinner. I’ll make my best dish, pasta puttanesca.”
Her full smile returned.
“Orion is a winter constellation so that may be a little difficult.” She paused and studied me for a moment. “But if the sky is clear, I can show you a few tricks, maybe check out the moon, but YOU have to clear it with my roomy.”
“Fair enough. Let’s get another beer and wait for her out on the deck. You can tell me some more inspiring stories.” I picked the telescope up by its tripod base and awkwardly headed out through the kitchen to the deck, Hannah behind with the star chart. Gus heard the commotion from the master bedroom where he had been taking his regular afternoon nap and came tumbling down the stairs, darting out past us into the yard. I placed the telescope down gently on the deck and returned inside to grab the fresh beers.
Settling in to the deck chairs we waited for Hannah’s roommate and silently watched the dying sun splashing off the leaves of the trees, green with a trace a gold, a sign of autumn threatening to arrive early.
Hannah broke the silence.
“So why are you home during the day, Mr. Reeves? Lost your job, or just lazy?” she asked, taking a long swig of her beer.
I didn’t answer immediately as we both watched Gus head over to the fence, Mrs. Sabbatini’s shepherd again skulking on the opposite side.
“Yes and yes,” I chuckled.
“Pretty much what I figured. You’re wife must be sick of you.”
Before I could ponder an answer to that one, the beat up Pinto rolled up the driveway and came to an abrupt stop, stones flying from under the tires. The pale girl stepped out and headed toward us, a bit wobbly.
“Has she been drinking?”
“Probably.”
She stopped at the foot of the deck. I could smell the alcohol from five feet away.
“Would you like a beer?” Hannah didn’t seem too concerned.
“Let’s go.” She turned and stumbled back toward the car.
“Wait a minute, I’m cooking you girls dinner. Besides, I really don’t think you should be driving right now.”
She turned to Hannah and tilted her head to the side impatiently.
“Doug’s right.” She used my first name. “Sit down and relax for awhile. I still have to show him how to use this thing when it’s gets a little darker,” she said, gesturing to the telescope.
The pale girl hesitated, then turned and joined us on the deck, plopping down in one of the deck chairs.
“Doug, this is my roommate, Sammy. Sammy, Mr. Doug Jones.”
“Call me Dig.”
Sammy eyed me warily.
“Can I have a beer, Dig? I promise it will be my last and I’ll clean my plate of whatever slop you cook us.”
“Sammy is a bit socially challenged.” She turned to Sammy. “ Doug is making pasta puttanesca. He says it’s his best dish.”
I went inside to start the water boiling for the pasta and grab three more beers. I could hear Sammy continue her protestations on the porch in a not quite low enough drunken tone, and Hannah’s equally sharp rebuke telling her to shut up and relax. I returned to the deck, hitting the outside lights on the way as the sun had almost fully set. Gus had begun to yap again, and though I could not see him in the failing light, I could hear the shepherd’s throaty whines of annoyance increase in volume as Gus moved closer to the fence. Mrs. Sabbatini’s back porch light came on and the squat, dark haired woman stepped out of her house, arms folded across her chest.
“Hello Mrs. Sabbatini! Would you like to join us for a beer and some pasta?” I shouted, standing at the rail. The girls giggled in the background. I could see her framed in the porch light, squat, dark hair with a considerable streaks of gray, worn robe and slippers. She stared at me for a moment, then at the girls behind me. She shook her head and muttered something unintelligible and then slipped out into the darkness of her yard.
“I try to be a good neighbor. I really do,” I said handing the girls the fresh beers.
“Hey Diggy-“
“Just ‘Dig’.”
“ ‘Dig’ what do you do for a living-outside of luring college girls to your house in your bathrobe?” Sammy asked derisively, but her tone was not quite as malevolent as earlier.
“I’m not sure really,” I stared out towards the fence, Gus and the shepherd just flickering shadows bouncing about excitedly. “I guess I’m a professional gardener.”
“What, like a landscaper?” Hannah asked.
“No, I grow vegetables in my garden and sell them in a stand down by the river.”
Sammy’s spit beer across the porch, exploding into a mocking laugh.
“Man, you must be a millionaire.”
“It’s a living.”
Hannah broke her silence.
“I sincerely doubt it is a living. What were you before you were a gardener?” Her tone was much more serious than I had her use the entire day.
“I was an accountant for a long time.” I paused for a moment. “But I really don’t believe I am one anymore.”
“Gee, good idea on the career change, Dig. Maybe with Hannah’s help you can be an astrophysicist next,” she added laughing, a little too hard.
“Leave him alone or I’ll make you sit in the car.”
I smiled at Hannah gratefully, but she glared at Sammy and did not return my glance.
“Astrophysicist sounds pretty good. I better check on the water.” I got up to head back inside but before I could reach the door another set of headlights began winding up the driveway.
Molly.
I stood in the door of the kitchen and waited for her as she walked toward the house, her strides small in her high heels, carefully planting each foot on the loose stones of the path so as not to fall. She came to a halt a few feet from me, studying the girls on the porch, then me.
“Hello Mrs. Dig, nice to meet you,” Sammy giggled.
“These are the girls from the college- I thought you were working late, hon?” She was staring at my hands clutching the empty beer bottles.
“We were waiting for it to get dark, to try out the telescope.” No response.
“I came home early because I didn’t feel well.” She turned to the girls. “Excuse me.” She brushed past me and entered the house. I followed her into the kitchen where she had stopped to take off her heels and drop her briefcase on the counter.
“I’m making pasta.” The water was at a screaming boil on the stove.
“Did you call Chi-Chi’s?” she said in a flat voice, her back to me.
I started to lie, but stopped.
“No”.
She turned around slowly.
“I’m going to bed, Dig. Don’t forget to turn out the lights when you come up.” She kissed me lightly on the cheek, something she never did, and headed towards the front of the house. I watched her walk away, slightly bewildered, still holding the empties, the sound of her footsteps mounting the stairs like a heartbeat.
“Shit”. I turned to the stove; the water was boiling over the sides of the pot, snapping me from my daze. I placed the beer bottles on the counter, and, grabbing a lid, I covered the pot and turned the burner down to low.
“Maybe we should go, Mr. Reeves.” Hannah stood in the doorway. Her face revealed a mixture of compassion and kindness, in what seemed to be equal magnitude. I did not answer right away, taking in her emotions like an addict, not really deserving of either, but needed just the same.
“No, no, no. Let me get a couple more beers. I’ll be right out. How’s Sammy doing?”
“She’s asleep. Or passed out. Apparently she was doing shots of whiskey at the Irish bar down the street with some locals.”
I laughed as I turned the burner back up to ‘high’. “That would do it. Let me throw the pasta in and I’ll join you in a minute.”
“Are you sure?”
“Absolutely.”
“Ok.” She gave me a quiet smile and headed back out to the deck. I went to the pantry to grab some linguini, still preoccupied by Molly’s behavior, when Hannah called from outside.
“Doug, get out here!”
I rushed outside, linguini in hand, expecting to find Sammy hurling her insides all over the deck, but she was slumped soundlessly in the Adirondack chair, head resting on the arm. Hannah stood next to the telescope, staring into the sky.
“Look at that moon.” She pointed to the sky. At first I thought the night had not completely descended yet because of the quantity of light, but I soon realized it came from the full moon. Just a few wisps of clouds passed across the lunar face, casting slow moving shadows across the yard.
“Put the pasta on, and I’ll have the telescope ready by the time it’s done.”
I nodded and turned to go back in the house, when it occurred to me that I hadn’t heard Gus barking in a while.
“Have you seen Gus?”
“No, I thought he went inside with you.”
I stepped off the deck and into the yard and called for him but didn’t hear a sound. I looked to my left at my Mrs. Sabbatini’s house. A chill went up my spine.
The side gate was wide open.
I ran to the back of the yard, past the garden, calling for Gus while searching for movement among the thick grove of trees at the edge of the woods. I reached the remnants of the old barn that stood on the back of our property. And that’s where I found them.
The shepherd had Gus in his jaws, shaking him violently, the body seemingly lifeless, the shepherds eyes glowing red, flashing back and forth with each brutal thrash. I ran right at the shepherd and he stopped, but did not release the rag doll form in his mouth. I stopped as well, and we both stared at each other for a brief second, waiting for the other to make a move.
I made it.
I kicked with all the force I could muster into the rib cage of the shepherd. He flinched just enough to escape the full brunt of the blow, but I had caught him clean enough to lift him off the ground. He came down on his side, he quickly righted himself, Gus still firmly between his jaws. Rearing back, I prepared another blow, but before I could land it, he dropped Gus and tore off into the darkness, disappearing into the woods, a shadow among shadows in the brilliant moonlight.
I picked Gus up in my arms and could feel his heart beating faintly as he emitted a labored gurgling sound from deep inside. As I ran toward the house and the light from the deck illuminated us, I could see the six-inch flap of flesh hanging from his neck, blood matting the fur over most of his small frame.
“Hannah! Hannah!”
She stared in horror and the lump in my arms.
“Give me your car keys. Go tell my wife what happened and tell her to call the vet’s emergency number. I’ll meet her there.” She didn’t respond for a second, stunned, but gathered herself quickly and grabbed Sammy’s purse dumping the contents out on the ground. Kneeling down, she found the keys and tossed them to me.
“What the fuck is going on?” Sammy stirred drowsily in her chair.
“Nothing, go back to sleep Sammy.” Hannah looked up at me.
“Go. I’ll tell her.”
I sprinted to the Pinto and opened the passenger door, placing Gus on the seat. I climbed over him to the driver’s side, started it up, and nailed the gas, swinging around in a hail of stones. As I tore down the driveway I noticed Mrs. Sabbatini on her front porch. She waved.
I could swear the bitch was smiling.
The Vet’s offices were in his house, across the river on the Pennsylvania side, about five miles away. I pulled in the driveway and screeched to a halt. Grabbing the now silent body next to me, I jumped out and rushed to the door, kicking the bottom several times forcefully.
Much to my relief, Gus began to groan beneath me.
“Open the fucking door!”
Lights came on inside, and the door swung open. A small, heavyset, Hispanic woman calmly and gently took Gus from my arms, and then disappeared into the back rooms.
I had met her before on previous visits, but could not remember her name. She wore a long, pink housecoat so I assumed she lived on the premises, perhaps in an apartment upstairs, as the office had obviously been closed for the evening.
I stood in the doorway, not knowing what to do with myself, staring at my blood soaked arms and the pool of crimson at my feet. I don’t know who I feared seeing first,Molly, or the doctor. Taking a seat in the waiting room, I perused a pamphlet titled “Mange” briefly, but the images were very disturbing, the patches of hairless skin on the dogs reminding me of the missing chunk of flesh from Gus’s neck, and quickly replaced it on the end table.
Car lights flooded the office as a car pulled into the drive behind the Pinto. Looking outside I saw Molly leisurely making her way to the door, as if she were heading to the dentist’s for a root canal. The door swung open and she entered, stopping just inside when she saw me sitting across the room.
“How Bad?”
“Bad.”
Her demeanor had not changed, impassive and detached, recollections of her soft, dry kiss returning to me. She took a seat near the door on the opposite side of the room and began to stare out the window. I watched her closely; she did not return my gaze, but I could see the moistness in her eyes.
The Vet entered from the rear offices, his face betraying the situation.
“Mr. And Mrs. Reeves, could you please follow me.”
Jumping up, I followed the doctor into a small room, Molly a few feet behind. Gus lay on his side atop the examining table, emitting short, raspy breaths, the paper beneath him stained with the dark brown of dried blood and fluids. His tail wagged limply upon seeing me, once, twice, then ceased. I reached to him and scratched his head, careful to avoid the fresh bandages on his neck, soaked through, a deep cherry. Looking over to the other side of the table, Molly stood next to the Vet, staring down at the near lifeless body, but her eyes revealed no emotion, the tearing that was evident earlier now absent.
“Mr. And Mrs. Reeves, we’ve done all we can. He has lost entirely too much blood and he is in a great deal of pain. At his age, I’m afraid we are out of options.”
“Oh Christ. Are you saying we have to put him down, Doc?” I looked at him, but did not see the answer I hoped for in his face, then at Molly, but there I found nothing.
“It’s a simple procedure. An injection. It will take 10 to 15 seconds to work. You and your wife can stay with him. He is suffering a great deal, Mr. Reeves.”
Molly broke the silence.
“Let’s do it as quick as possible, Doctor,” her voice too calm and even.
The Vet looked at me and I hesitated for only a second before nodding. He left the room and returned almost immediately, his assistant with him now, needle in hand. The nurse put one hand on Gus’s rear steadying him, while stroking his belly gently with the other. Everything seemed to be happening in slow motion now, the needle easing into the dog’s side, his head lifting off the table for the first time, tongue flashing in an out rapidly like a snake. I did not reach out, my hands clamped to the edge of the table.
“It will only be a few seconds. We’ll leave you to say your goodbyes.” Quickly, the Doctor and nurse left the room leaving Gus, Molly, and me.
“Goodbye, boy,” was all I could muster, my hands still frozen in a clench, the metal of the table cutting into my palms as they constricted.
Gus’s head slowly sank back to the tabletop, but before it touched the surface, Molly reached out, placing her hand beneath it, his muzzle coming to rest against her palm. His tail twitched once, and his mouth opened, tongue once again flicking out, searching for her familiar fingers, but Molly snatched her hand away without warning and stepped back, Gus’s head falling to the table. His eyes were glass. Turning, Molly ran from the room, her footsteps echoing throughout the near empty office, the front door slamming behind her as she headed out into the night.
The Doctor returned and expressed his sympathy and suggested that I head home. They would take care of the body. He also asked if I would like the ashes returned to us, for a small additional fee. It would take about a week. I nodded, and made my way to the front door, passing the nurse in the hallway. She reached up and put her small, plump hand on my shoulder, but I did not slow down, her hand sliding off and down to the small of my back.
Reaching the front door to the office, I realized Molly had not left yet, her BMW sat in the driveway directly behind the Pinto. As I drew closer, I saw her, sitting behind the wheel, head back, eyes open following me as I neared, deep pools of green, arresting and revealing, stopping me in my tracks. The engine came to life, and she backed out slowly, pulling the car out into the dark road.
I began to walk towards the car again, and she hesitated for a moment, her face obscured by the darkness, but then accelerated and disappeared. Standing in the middle of the road, I watched the tail lights fade in the night, two specks of red, shrinking down to nothing, and then winking out, leaving me alone with my shadow, cast by the still dazzling light of the full moon. I looked skyward, the traces of clouds from earlier were now gone, the night a basket of limitless stars, crisp and clear. Scanning the sky, I searched for the belt of Orion. Hannah had said the constellation could only be seen clearly in winter, and, indeed I could not locate him, but I knew he was there. I felt him, as one feels someone behind them. Yes, I felt him. His lion skin in one hand, and his club in the other, raised above my head.