fills out the forms.
Ben rests his head on my shoulder, and with a tearful voice, he asks, “Do you think Bailey will be okay?”
The “Yes” gets stuck in my throat. I can’t bring myself to lie to him. Bailey is old, and even if the vet is able to treat her today, it’s only a matter of time before she leaves us forever.
“I don’t know, Ben. We should prepare for the worst.” Fat tears roll down my cheeks. I wipe them away with the back of my blue hand. My fight with Troy becomes small, unimportant in the grand scheme of things.
“I don’t want Bailey to die,” Ben whines right before his body starts to shake.
I lace my hand with his. “I don’t want to lose her either.”
The wait is torturous but not long. Fifteen minutes later, Dad joins us in the waiting room. His slumped shoulders and teary eyes say it all.
“Dad?” I jump to my feet.
He shakes his head. “I’m sorry, honey. Our girl is gone. There was nothing Dr. Harper could have done.”
Mom stands too and gives Dad a hug. Ben breaks into an ugly cry, so for his sake, I keep my tears at bay, even though I was crying before. There’s a big hole in my chest now. I don’t want to think what it’ll be like to walk into my parents’ house and not see that golden fur ball run to greet me. Bailey was a staple of my childhood. There are so many wonderful memories, it’s impossible to count them all.
We wait a bit longer for Dad to fill out more paperwork. When we finally get back to the house, Mom wants me to spend the night. But I can’t face the house knowing Bailey won’t be there. I have to get out of here. It’s selfish of me when I think of Ben, but at the same time, that’s what my parents are for. Maybe what happened will finally force them to make up.
“I can’t stay. I have to study for a test tomorrow,” I lie.
“How can you think about tests when Bailey is dead?” Ben cries out.
I open my mouth to defend myself, even though I’m not being truthful, but Dad speaks first, “We all deal with grief differently, buddy. Your sister’s way is losing herself in books.”
His defense feels backhanded, but I won’t complain. He’s giving me a free pass.
“Thanks, Dad.”
“Please drive safely, Charlie,” Mom says.
“I will.”
Despite my promise, I barely notice the road on the way back to my house. Everything is a blur. I thought that by putting distance between myself and my parents’ house, the pain would diminish, but it works the other way around. By the time I park in front of my place, the choke in my throat is so immense, it’s making it impossible to breathe. With quick steps, I approach the front porch. My hands are shaking as I try to unlock the door. I veer for the kitchen in desperate need of something strong to alleviate my pain.
I search each cabinet for the bottle of tequila I saw the other day. It isn’t mine, but considering what I’m going through, I don’t think Troy will mind. I finally find it pushed all the way back behind some tortilla chips bags. It’s almost empty, maybe one shot left in it. I’m about to throw it back when Troy comes down the stairs.
His face is solemn when he says, “Charlie, we need to talk.”
21
TROY
The moment Charlie whirls around, I see something is terribly wrong. Her eyes are bloodshot, her face tearstained. She’s clutching an almost empty bottle of tequila as if it were her lifeline.
“What’s wrong?” I breach the distance between us in three long strides.
“What do you want to talk about?” she asks in a small voice.
“It’s not important right now.” I take the bottle from her and set it on the counter. “Tell me what happened.”
She can’t hold my gaze. Her lips quiver as she lowers her eyes to my chest. “It’s…. My dog died today.” She tries to hide a sob by covering her mouth with her hand.
I pull her to me without a second thought, crushing her body to mine in an awkward hug. The sling is in the way. “I’m so sorry, Charlie.”
“I knew she was old, but it was still a shock. She wasn’t sick or anything.”
Charlie steps back, easing out of my embrace. I want to hold on to her longer but catch myself in time.
“How old