Page 38 of Words Unspoken

There was a knock on the door. Michael wanted to shout at the man to go away.

“That is George. I need to go. Look, you can stay here, and I will call you a cab when I get home,” Ann pulled her hands out of his, her movements jerky as she grabbed the clutch from the side table.

Desperate, Michael grabbed her hand and sank to one knee, begging.

Ann looked at him sadly. “Michael, I am not coming back.”

He watched in disbelief as she opened the door and walked out of his life again.

∞

Michael sat slumped on Ann is couch. He felt like the entire world had died around him. He took a deep breath and decided to go home. There was no point in staying. Ann had made her choice. It was not him.

He locked the door behind him and left the apartment. People walked the streets, intent on where they were going. Traffic was loud. He looked around and a taxi pulled up in front of him. He got in.

“Where to?”

Michael opened his mouth to reply then shut it. He didn’t have an address on him for the beach house. He might have a credit card, but he could not get home without being able to give directions.

“Buddy, you okay?”

Michael gave a short nod and got out of the cab. He would walk. It would be a long walk but maybe he could get there before FenLei started breakfast.

Did it really matter? He began the long trek. He was going to regret wearing Italian leather loafers. Well, sneakers didn’t exactly go with the suit.

An hour later the loafers were annoying. The mass of people had thinned out and he came to a poorer section of town. People were begging for money. Michael found a discount shoe store and bought a new pair of runners. Outside he exchanged footwear, putting the loafers in the shopping bag, easy to carry.

He was about to get up when a dog came over, sniffing his feet. It was pathetically thin. Michael tried to gently push it away, however it seemed to think that he was petting it and sidled closer.

There was a hotdog vendor at the edge of a nearby park. Michael went over and held up two fingers. He pulled out cash and the man gave him change. Michael laid the two hotdogs on the ground for the dog to eat and walked away.

He was perhaps half a block away when the dog caught up to him. Michael tried to shoo it away, but the stubborn canine just kept pace. Finally, he ignored it. At some point it would get tired and go home.

An hour later, the dog was limping beside him. Michael looked at it. It sat, panting, and wagging its stump of a tail. It held up a paw, licking at it.

Michael sighed and knelt to see what was wrong with the paw. It was hot to the touch and there was swelling. He could clearly see a sore full of infection. It was surprising the dog had kept pace with him this long. It licked his hand.

It was not his dog.

Ten more minutes of walking, Michael could not take it anymore. He picked up the dog. It was not light. Probably thirty pounds. He grunted and kept walking. Five blocks later he saw a veterinary clinic that was still open. He walked in and received admonitions about bringing in the dog without a collar or leash. Michael put down the dog. Then he plunked down his gold credit card. When the lady at the desk realized he could not speak, she spoke louder.

Michael was unamused.

An hour later, they had determined his dog was a Boxer and Boston Terrier mixed with something undetermined. She was still young and likely to get a little bigger. She was already spayed. They drained and cleaned the infection, bandaging the paw. After a bath he could see the brown speckles in the black patches on her short coat as her white areas shined. Her pushed in nose twitched as shots of antibiotics and vaccinations happened. A collar and leash were had. Flea and heartworm medication were added to the bill. So was a small bag of dog food. He wondered how he was going to carry it all and the dog.

Finally, they were finished, and Michael found he was the proud owner of a dog. He absently petted her as he was handed the vaccination records. With a tight smile, he led the pet out of the building.

For another hour they walked until the dog began to limp again. Sighing, Michael shifted the bags and picked up the dog. She settled her head on his shoulder and let out a gusty sigh as he carried her. He felt like one of those people who was carrying a package around. That is what he should have done, mailed her home. He had a bitter laugh at that, and it started to rain lightly.

He decided the dog is name was FedEx because he was carrying her around like a package. She didn’t seem to object.

Hours later Michael was sitting on a bench in the dark with FedEx shivering beside him, pressed against his side. The rain was pouring down and both were soaked. He threw out the loafers. They were one less thing to carry. His feet were sore. So was his back. He petted the dog and debated what he should do. Michael was maybe halfway to the beach house. It would have been smarter to go to the condo as it was much closer, however he had not taken his keys when he left to try to bring back Ann. Now there was no Ann, but he had gotten a dog.

When he was a child Michael had wanted a dog. His father had unequivocally said no. So there had never been any pets. Well, he was keeping this one. Getting up, Michael decided there was little else to do but continue. It was in the early hours of the morning and nothing was open. He dumped the dog food in the trash to lighten his load. FenLei could buy some. Michael picked up FedEx again.

It was hours past sunrise as he trudged up to the house. The rain had stopped. He had blisters on his heels. The front door was unlocked and FenLei rushed to meet him as he entered.

“How it go? Missy Ann like?” she halted in shock. “What happen?!”