a ferocious bark
sunday, may 1
I’m finally out of rehab.
“Read before you sign next time,” Lucille says, as she bids me farewell.
After leaving Lily Pond, I go to a bookstore and buy Matt a copy of Chicken Soup for the Unsinkable Soul. Lucille promised me that she’d get it to him. I adore and will forever be indebted to her. Not only did she convince Jan to call Michelle who verified I’m not a drug addict, she also took care of Eva. In addition to calling the vet to make sure she came out of the surgery okay, she picked her up and took her home to recuperate.
I feel so irresponsible. I shouldn’t have gotten a dog, and not just because I’m on a road trip. Don’t get me wrong, I love Eva and am glad to have saved her, but what if there was no Lucille? What if it took me longer to get out of rehab? What would I have done then? Just leave her at the vet until I was ready to pick her up? Until I was done trying to sort out my own disastrous life?
Also, I didn’t tell Michelle or Colin—the only two people who know I’m on a road trip—that I was checking myself into rehab. I thought I’d be out before they’d even realize I was gone, but I was wrong. I was unreachable for six days and all their phone calls went straight to voice mail. Thinking something bad happened to me, they both freaked out. All in all, Michelle left me over twenty messages, each one sounding more panicked than the previous.
As for Colin, he wasn’t quite as worried as Michelle until she came knocking on his door in hysterics, asking if he knew where I was. After calming her down, he told her that I was in Rockford visiting some guy named Matt King. I’d previously told Michelle about Matt, and the only thing she remembered about him was that he was my drug-dealing ex-boyfriend. In total, Colin left me about fifteen messages. I owe them both an apology.
Before getting on the highway, I find a quiet spot in a parking lot and pull out my phone. After taking a deep breath, I dial Michelle’s number first. She answers after two rings.
“Hi, it’s me,” I say softly.
She doesn’t respond.
“Listen, I’m really sorry for disappearing.”
“You’re sorry?” she says, mockingly. Her voice is loud and sharp. “That’s all you can say?”
“I don’t know what else to say. It was stupid of me to do what I did and I’m sorry.”
“You didn’t think it was necessary to tell me or anyone else that you were checking yourself into rehab? You thought it was okay to just disappear?”
“No, but I didn’t think I’d be in there for as long as I was and—”
“That’s your problem, Delilah,” she yells. “You don’t think.”
I realize I don’t have a right to be angry at Michelle, especially now, but I hate that she always makes my life her business. “Michelle, why do you care so much about what I do?”
“Why do you care so much about what other people think?”
“I don’t.”
“Yes, you do. If you didn’t, then you wouldn’t be so preoccupied with some stupid number average, with fitting in with the rest of society.”
I sigh loudly. I don’t know what to say.
“You’re actions affect other people, Delilah,” Michelle continues, “and that’s why I care. I mean, imagine how Colin and I felt—we were worried. I had an interview at Vintage Vogue, and while I was there, during the entire thing, all I could think about was the possibility of you being dead. I couldn’t concentrate and almost screwed the whole thing up.”
“I’m sorry, Michelle, really,” I say again. “So, did you . . . get the job?” I’m almost afraid to ask.
“I don’t know yet,” she says, “they haven’t said. Listen, I don’t mean for this to sound rude, but do me a favor and don’t call until you’re home, okay? I need to focus on job hunting and I don’t want to be worrying about what you’re doing every second of the day.”
“Okay,” I say softly. “I won’t.”
When I hang up from Michelle, I feel a little like the wind’s been knocked out of me but I don’t allow myself to crack; I have another call to make. Picking the phone back up, I dial Colin’s number. From his messages, it’s clear that Michelle didn’t tell him the reason I’m doing what I’m doing (thank God), but still, I’m embarrassed. After two rings, he picks up but doesn’t say anything. No “hello.” No “how are you.” Just silence.
“Please don’t be angry with me,” I say in a little voice. “I just wanna let you know I’m okay.”
“Well, thanks for calling,” Colin says quietly, calmly, after a long pause. “Thanks for being so fecking considerate.” The tone of his voice, although softer than Michelle’s, is more frightening. “You know, I’m not one to judge, I do stupid things all the time, but when some girl I don’t even know comes knocking on my door, crying to me, saying you’re dead, what am I to think?”
I don’t say anything.
“I mean, put yourself in my position. When she told me this guy was some sorta drug dealer, not only did I worry something might’ve happened to you, but I felt responsible because I’m the one who gave you his address.”
“I’m sorry. I never thought about it that way.”
“Yeah? Well, think about it that way in the future, will ya? I’m not trying to be a dick, but I was worried.”
“You were?” I’m somewhat surprised that he seems so genuinely concerned.
“For fuck’s sake, yes! Of course I was! What kind of question is that? I don’t want anything to happen to you!”
“I’m sorry, Colin. I really am.”
“’Sokay,” he says, his voice becoming softer. “I forgive you, but if you disappear again, I’ll never speak to you for as long as I live. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
“So where to next?” he asks after a long pause.
“Los Angeles,” I mumble. “Unless you found someone else between here and there.”
“To be honest, I stopped looking when I thought you were napped by the druggie. “But I’ll start again if that’s what you want.”
“I do,” I say softly.
“Okay then. But Jaysus, be careful out there, will ya?”
“Yes, I promise.”
After hanging up from Colin, I shut off my phone, lay my seat back and think. I think. Michelle was partially right in saying that I care about what other people think—that’s partly why I’m doing this. As for the other part, seeing Matt stirred up a lot of feelings, a lot of memories. So did hearing about Nate. Both of them got me thinking about connections that you have with people, real connections. I’m lonely; I really am.
As I realize this, tears begin to fall from my eyes and I begin to cry. I cry because I don’t want Michelle to be angry and I hate that Colin was. I cry because Nate’s in jail and I couldn’t help Foxy. I cry because I’m not jealous of Daisy, but I do envy what she has. I cry because I’m happy that my grandpa found love, and don’t understand why I can’t. I cry because I don’t want to disappoint my mother, but I’ve already disappointed myself. I cry for all these things, but mostly, I cry because I’m afraid I’ll be alone forever.
Sitting on my lap, Eva peers up at me with her big brown eyes. She looks exhausted. After slowly lifting her leg, I look at her belly, look at her wound, look at the thin piece of thread that’s holding her together. Ever so gently, I run my finger along the pink edges of her skin—her insides are slightly exposed.
“I’m sorry for leaving you,” I tell her as I put her leg back down. She scoots up my chest and licks the tears off my face. As I wrap my arms around Eva and hold her close to my heart, I can feel every bone in her body. Beneath her fluffy hair, despite her ferocious bark, beyond her low grumble . . . she’s fragile.
We’re more alike that I thought.
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