even the stars are quiet this far out north. which is to say, not very far at all; forty miles outside the heart of the city.
you're not just alone here, you are completely removed from self; your physical presence, your physical being lost in the heavy darkness.
there's a breath of fog that covers the ground in the early morning; an ethereal blanket that mutes time and space, and gently hides us from the world, while providing the comfort to be absolutely free. free with our emotions and actions. free with ourselves. free to let our minds wander.
i start the engine, make sure to keep the radio off, and take my time navigating the tricky pavement; headlights bouncing off mesquite trees and thick brush. i am moving forward, but i am not going there alone.
• • •
the ghost that sits beside me is a departed companion. he sits there in black and white; eyes intently focused on the mysterious horizon. stoic.
i don't immediately know why he's there; why my mind would conjure up his presence during a midnite commute. but i am suddenly flooded and full, locked into an emotional tug of war with the surreal. a vivid daydream in the hallucinogenic nite.
• • •
three years ago, we put him down. he was my girlfriend's dog. a loyal friend, and our eternally shared responsibility from the day we met.
he'd endured some risky surgeries, but now his kidneys were failing, his body beginning to shut down. and when the time came, i went thru the motions that led us to that place so that she could focus on connecting with him one last time before finally letting go.
on that day, on that quiet day, i drove the car. i drove the car that carried him to his end.
and now he sits beside me.
quiet.
poised ears occasionally flicking to attention.
• • •
we did not get along. at least not well. and as a dog person, that only added to my frustration.
i've always been drawn to canines for their general warmth and outright playfulness. but he was different. he never exhibited those qualities directly. he seemed distant and serious. like there was always something on his mind.
but not chasing cars. or the hot bitch next door. his mind was elsewhere; as if stuck calculating complex algorithms, mentally balancing a heavily diversified stock portfolio, or his next move in an intense game of chess. his demeanor was somber and controlled; far from the carefree tongue wagging which i was accustomed.
because he looked so grim, i took it upon myself to jazz him up, and would occasionally adorn his head and body with stickers from popular household products. some announced that he was indeed an organic chiquita banana, others boldly proclaimed his fresh new scent.
what he lacked in personality, he made up for in patiently advertising his lo carb count, or new and improved buttery taste.
despite the temporary flair, he seemed to me a troubled soul. he was vocal, and incessantly groveled and whined whenever his mother was gone. sometimes it was only a few hours, sometimes it was more than a week. he also had his share of annoying habits; like always walking on sidewalks despite lush grass paths, eating his food in symmetrical patterns, licking his paws til they were raw, and systematically raiding the trash, though he'd been instructed otherwise.
still, his biggest fault, his biggest failure in all his years was simple: it was me.
• • •
on the morning he left us, i did all i could to console my partner, but mostly, i let her be. i spent extra time on my hands and knees comforting our sleepy greyhound; the sole survivor of our family.
the day dragged on, and when it was time for me to retire, i went thru my normal routine before lying in bed. and then i fell apart.
the grief rolled in and over me, my throat felt thick and my eyes began to burn. it was hard. it was terrible to bear witness that day. one second life, and the next...
my emotional compass began to spin out of control. not just for the loss, or the toll it would take on my partner, but for my role in it all; for my role in his life. because i don't think it was good.
i was the insensitive bully. the one easily frustrated by the things i couldn't or didn't know how to control. i was the screaming voice. the sharp grab on the collar. the angry push out the door.
I was the failure in the relationship. i was what was wrong.
and now i am haunted.
• • •
the hum of the engine drones on as we move over the cool morning asphalt. eyes straight ahead, we sit there in unison, absorbing the silence.
i want to lean over, stretch my arm out and scratch behind his ears, as if to say: you're a good boy. i'm glad you're here. thank you for being so loyal. thank you for being there for her for so many years. thank you for being a part of our family.
above all, i want him to know that i'm sorry.
but i'm afraid to move. afraid that if i do anything, we'll lose this moment forever.
