Total pages in book: 136
Estimated words: 130673 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 653(@200wpm)___ 523(@250wpm)___ 436(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 130673 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 653(@200wpm)___ 523(@250wpm)___ 436(@300wpm)
My mother stomped. Actually stomped. “I was never good enough for you. So what if I’m not a lovey-dovey person?”
“You are.” I pointed at the dogs. “Just not to me.”
That sobered her. “You were a mistake, Rhyland,” she said quietly. “You came after we were married, but…you weren’t in our plans. I wanted to complete my degree in art. Your father wanted to become an architect. We never could recover from having you…” Her eyes crinkled sadly. “And yes, we were young. And angry. We shouldn’t have been. But ever since you were a teenager, all you wanted was to leave the house. You acted like we were hitting you or something! Like we were abusing you in some way.”
“You were,” I said flatly. “You can destroy someone without lifting a finger at them, and you did that to me.”
And then, because there was nothing more to say, I finished with, “Anyway, this is not goodbye.”
“Why, thank yo—”
“This is good riddance. I don’t want to hear from you ever again.”
“Son—” my father started.
“Never.” I held up a hand. “Not if someone gets sick, not if someone dies, not if someone needs help.”
My mother shook her head, looking disgusted with my existence. She finally had the audacity to let her true emotions play on her face. “Have a good life, Rhyland.” She slipped through the door. Before she banged it behind her, she stuck in her head. “By the way, Fluffy has a liver disease and needs an important leg operation. Make sure you tend to that.”
After I cleaned up dog shit, gave the two dogs water and some pastrami, and ordered harnesses for them both on Prime, I crouched down in front of them. They were standing shoulder to shoulder, staring at me with urgency, like I was Moses coming down from Mount Sinai with an update from God.
“Okay, assholes, which one of you is Fluffy?”
One of the dogs cocked its head sideways, opening its mouth in a smile and showing off a pink tongue. This was Fluffy, I supposed. I looked between its legs. Male. Well, barely.
“So you’re Mittens.” I glanced at the other dog, peering between its front legs. Female.
She barked her approval.
“I’m sorry, folks, but you can’t stay here. It’s not personal. I’m just not built for responsibility.”
Fluffy whimpered as though he understood me.
“Yeah, I know.” I ruffled his fur on a sigh. “They screwed up my life too. But you’re expensive, good-looking dogs. You’ll do fine. People’ll line up to adopt you.”
Fluffy and Mittens exchanged doubtful looks. “C’mon. I got thrown out too, and I turned out all right.” Pause. “Okay, I didn’t. But what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.”
The harnesses arrived. I took them down for a walk to do their business—there was nothing quite as humbling as picking up tiny dog shit with a plastic bag and hunting for a trash can on a busy New York street—then I packed them up into my car and drove to the nearest no-kill animal shelter.
The closer I got to the shelter, the more nauseous I felt. My mother had mentioned Fluffy had some health issues. What if he couldn’t find a home? And what if they split these motherfuckers up? They seemed close, constantly giving each other tongue baths and chasing each other.
I remembered growing up how bummed I was about not having a sibling. Someone to confide in and lean on. Row came the closest to it.
And you’ve been fucking his baby sister on the down-low for over a week now. Some friend you are.
But this was exactly why I couldn’t be with Dylan: I was a narcissist, like my parents.
By the time I’d parked in front of the shelter, my head was a mess. I grabbed the leashes from the passenger seat and twisted around to clip them onto the dogs’ harnesses. They complied without complaint, hanging their dumb, innocent gazes at me.
“Don’t look at me like that.” I scowled.
They blinked in unison.
“You don’t fit my lifestyle. I didn’t choose this. Not any of this crap.”
Silence.
“God dammit.” I unclipped the leashes, dumping them on the passenger seat and rubbing my face.
By dropping these little shits at a shelter, I was becoming my parents. An emotionally stunted, self-centered human without one redeeming bone in his entire body.
I knew lots of people. I could get them rehomed somewhere nice, with people I trusted. Tossing them in a shelter was the easiest, coldest, most immoral option. It was the wrong thing to do.
I blew out a breath, dropping the back of my head to the leather seat. “Fluffy?”
He whimpered in response.
“I’m sorry, buddy, but we’re going to have to hit the vet next. But first, there’s something I need to do.”
I called Dylan. She answered on the first ring. I tried not to read too much into it.