As though Jimmy understood, he nestled deeper into Billy’s lap and began giving Billy’s hand a thorough bath.
With his free hand, Billy rubbed Jimmy’s chest up and down—fast and hard—exactly the way the old mutt liked it. As he did, he looked up and noticed a bank of even darker clouds had gathered above. “Looks like rain,” he told Jimmy. “Hopefully, there’s no thunder.”
They napped in the tent, Jimmy appearing much less worried about his nails on the air mattress than Billy. They curled up together, the rain pitter-pattering on the light canvas above. “It’s just a shower,” Billy told him. As good a guess as any meteorologist would make, Billy thought, though it doesn’t matter either way. As they began to nod off in each other’s arms, Jimmy snored peacefully. Billy stared at his best friend’s face, studying every nook and cranny—memorizing every crease and line. But it was silly. He knew Jimmy’s face better than his own. And I’m going to miss it something awful, he thought, swallowing back the lump in his throat. While the rain picked up and began thumping on the tent’s roof, Billy closed his eyes.
When they awoke from their afternoon siesta, Jimmy stood on the wobbly air mattress and yipped in pain. Once the sound of playful banter, Billy knew it was from pain now. “You okay?” he asked, massaging the dog’s haunches and working out the knots as he’d watched Arlene do many times. “Feel better now?” he asked, stopping.
Jimmy reached up with his right paw and scratched Billy’s hand, gesturing that he continue.
After a few more minutes, Billy stopped again. “Better?” he asked.
Jimmy licked Billy’s face once before slowly stepping off the jelly-like mattress.
Billy hurried to throw an arthritis pill into a glob of peanut butter and fed it to the mutt.
When they came out of hibernation, the air was cool and fresh. The trees glistened from the rain. Billy looked up. The clouds had dispersed, leaving behind the last of the day’s light.
The sunset was a palate of coral pinks and greens, with swirls of purple brushed in. The light softened—like the ambiance of an expensive romantic dinner, before fading into the distance and becoming twilight. There was a giant pause, as if the world collectively exhaled after filing another day into the history books. Billy and Jimmy sat together on a sturdy fold-out chair, silently sharing the magic. Billy took a deep breath and sighed.
Jimmy did the same.
Billy laughed. “Copycat,” he whispered.
The beach had always been the place where Jimmy was free to romp and roam—to explore. And each year he did just that. But not this year. Jimmy nuzzled into Billy’s lap again, where he awaited the attention Billy had always showered on him.
“You’re a good boy,” Billy whispered, as he scratched the gentle canine under his chin. He shook his head. “Although you haven’t been a boy for a long time.”
In what seemed like minutes, a million flickering stars covered the dark sky. Billy and Jimmy got up to take another stroll. They walked a few feet when they happened upon a giant puddle. Moonlight was trapped in the puddle, along with Billy and Jimmy’s reflections—the two of them standing knee to shoulder. While Billy smiled, Jimmy bent at the water’s edge and began to drink, sending ripples through the portrait. “Don’t drink that, Jimmy,” Billy scolded him. “You have fresh water back in the tent.”
Jimmy paid him no mind and kept lapping loudly, slobbering all over himself and depositing an equal amount of back wash.
Billy shook his head. “Whatever, it’s your stomach.”
They made it down to the water’s edge again and stood together in the silence for a long, long while. It was as though neither of them wanted the night to end, as though both of them needed more time together. Billy closed his eyes and listened to the tide. The ebb and flow was constant but random, like surround sound lapping the shore on the left, right and center.
The night grew cold, really cold for the time of year. Billy was surprised he and Jimmy couldn’t see their breath. The drop in temperature was significant, reminding Billy once again that summer was quickly coming to an end. It was a cold slap to the face—literally. I’m moving away in just a week, he thought. One week! He looked down at Jimmy, glad that his furry friend had no concept or fear of time.
Billy built a campfire, which wasn’t easy considering that everything was still damp from the rain shower. But sitting by a campfire had always been his and Jimmy’s thing, the perfect atmosphere to spend quality time together, so he worked hard to get the fire going.
They sat together in silence for a long time, hypnotized by the swaying flames and the rhythm of the rolling tide. When it was time to turn in for the night, Jimmy licked his paw, running it across his face for the day’s final bath. They both stood and stretched, leaving behind a handful of glowing embers and heading for the tent.
Kneeling beside the air mattress, Billy said his prayers. As he crawled in beside Jimmy, he left on the battery-operated lantern for his timid, four-legged friend, knowing that two D cell batteries would be killed in the process.
While Jimmy snored, Billy watched as their silhouettes moved randomly on the ceiling of the tent. He locked onto them, hypnotized by the shadows dancing above. His eyes grew heavy and he yawned. Within seconds, the shadows grew smaller until they disappeared.
Billy watched Jimmy—as a puppy—crying because the bedspread was covering his eyes. Jimmy’s claustrophobic, he realized. “It’s play time,” he told the dog, tricking Jimmy into thinking they were going to horse around. The garden hose and bottle of dog shampoo, however, made the smart dog whimper. Billy laughed. When he looked back, Jimmy was stretched out flat on his belly, all four legs pin straight like he’d been strapped to the torturer’s rack. Billy did a double-take and Jimmy was wearing the cone of shame so he didn’t bite at his stitches after being neutered. Poor guy, Billy thought, and then yelled at the dog after he’d torn a pillow to shreds. In the next scene, an older Jimmy chomped on ice cubes, spraying them everywhere like a broken snow cone machine. And then they were fishing, both of them young again. Jimmy whined as he watched the small perch swim in circles in the bucket. He placed his paw on the lip of the pail, pulling it to him and dumping the flopping fish into the grass—in some sad attempt at freeing the prisoners. Billy laughed again and a moment later, he was watching on in horror as Sophie dressed the poor dog in some ridiculous outfit for one of her lively tea parties. Sophie played with Jimmy’s ears, his paws, his tail; the mutt just lay there, as if he understood it was the price he had to pay for free meals. Jimmy’s the ultimate pilot fish. Billy shook his head, while a water sprinkler soaked the summer grass and Jimmy exhibited another example of his terrible drinking habits. Billy could see himself falling out of the tree in the backyard and grabbing his arm; the pain was mind numbing. While he healed, Jimmy never left his side. Billy then looked down to find that his cast was gone. He looked up again and Jimmy was smiling at him, his teeth covered in tartar build-up. “Have you been kissing a skunk?” he teased the dog. “You have a bad case of gingivitis, buddy…or is it halitosis?” Billy passed the groomer’s window and noticed that he’d grown tall. Jimmy was beyond ecstatic to see him; his nails had been clipped, his fur trimmed but his eyes were as wide as two chocolate pies. “What did she do to you, boy?” Billy teased the frightened dog.
Billy awoke, panting like a dog himself. He looked over at his tent mate, who was still snoring peacefully on the air mattress. “Oh Jimmy,” he muttered and wrapped his arm around the drooling heap.
Billy shook the cobwebs from his head and tried to make sense of it all. It was just a dream, he realized. Fragmented and confused in time and context, he’d dreamed about Jimmy. There were glimpses of the past and present merged together, as though Jimmy’s life had been thrown into a blender and Billy was enjoying each experience with him a second time. He pushed himself closer to Jimmy until he could feel the rise and fall of the dog’s
breathing. “I love you so much, buddy,” he whispered, before falling back to sleep.
⁕
They returned home, but Billy was not yet ready for his brief summer to be over. While Jimmy looked on, too old and stiff to follow, Billy grabbed his bicycle from the shed and jumped on it. It had been a few years since he’d ridden the old bike, which seemed odd considering the two-wheeler was like another body appendage most of his life. For years, the ten-speed was as important to him as his own feet, taking him everywhere. While Jimmy watched from the edge of the yard, Billy pedaled a few feet, allowing the wind in his hair to take him back in time.
Billy went off to tour his childhood: the baseball field where he, Mark and Charlie had played all those summers, the ice cream parlor they visited after every game, their hidden tree house down near the railroad tracks.
When Billy coasted home an hour later, he found Jimmy waiting patiently in the same shadows on the lawn’s edge. With the dog on his heels, Billy put his bike away in the shed. The smell of charcoal lighter fluid and the half-empty plastic bottle sitting on a shelf triggered his memory of so many summers past. His dad liked to grill the old way; he always said the meat tasted better cooked over the gray, lava-hot briquettes.
Billy stepped out of the shed and scanned the backyard, picturing all he had experienced as a kid: the copper pot and the massive clam boils that cooked on two burners.
Billy pictured those who had passed away—faces that could never be replaced or erased from his memory. Their family was a unit, a clan—something bigger than any one of their measly existences. “Not so long ago, I thought all of it—even spending time with our family—was lame,” he told Jimmy. “Now what I wouldn’t give for one last clam boil with Grandma and Grandpa under that tree.”
Jimmy glanced over at the tree.
“There was also a time when I thought I’d have nothing to do with my family when I got old enough to escape,” Billy added. “How crazy is that?”
Jimmy still listened attentively.
Billy recalled his childhood friends: Charlie and Mark. Their time together had passed, gone with the wind, leaving behind countless mental pictures worth keeping. Billy looked skyward. “Please watch over Charlie, Father,” he whispered, “and keep him strong.”
Billy took a seat on the shed’s stoop, while Jimmy dropped his head in Billy’s lap. In that one moment, he felt overwhelmed with gratitude for all the people and experiences that had made up the whole of his life.
Billy was excited about what lay ahead, but he couldn’t forget what lay behind him either. As he sat beside Jimmy, he took an inventory of the things he’d never imagined he’d miss but now realized he would: cutting grass for a few bucks; drinking an iced-cold lemonade while looking over my work and feeling some strange sense of accomplishment; the money used to head off to the movies. Lying on the deck, listening to music on my headset, the sun on my face and a nice breeze keeping things cool. Climbing trees and building forts; playing hard. Our imaginations took us everywhere, without anyone questioning the silliness or judging the ridiculousness of it all. Riding bikes, swimming and even the Slip and Slide that caused as many bruises as it did laughs. Drinking from a garden hose and chasing fireflies. Mom’s big Sunday breakfasts and the occasional church visit, inspired by the guilt of long absences. And late-night movies. ‘Don’t stay up too late,’ Mom would say. ‘We won’t,’ Billy, Charlie and Mark sang together. But they all knew otherwise. Billy laughed aloud. “And you were right there with me to share it all,” he told Jimmy, giving the mutt a hug. “We’ve had an amazing run, you and me,” he whispered.
The dog licked his hand.
⁕
Billy’s mom was finishing dinner, chicken mozzarella over penne pasta, when Billy and Jimmy entered the kitchen. “You’ve been sitting out there for a while,” she said. “Is everything okay?”
He nodded. “Me and Jimmy just took some time to reminisce,” he said.
She smiled. “Time well spent.”
“Jimmy can’t climb stairs anymore,” Billy blurted sadly, rubbing the mutt’s back.
She turned from the stove and nodded. “I know,” she said, “but he doesn’t complain all that much so I don’t think he’s in too much pain.”
Billy recalled the dog’s complaints during the camping trip but held his tongue. “Why do we have so little time with them?” he asked, still stroking Jimmy’s thick coat. She opened her mouth to answer when Billy asked another question. “Why do you think dogs only live for a dozen or so years, Mom?”
She bent down to pet Jimmy’s silver crown. “I honestly believe Jimmy will stay around for as long as we need him,” she said.
That’s what I was afraid of, he thought.
“Jimmy’s known unconditional love his whole life,” she said with a nod. “We’re the ones who take much longer to learn it.”
Billy’s eyes filled.
“What is it?” his mom asked, taking a seat beside him.
“I’ll be leaving for school soon. I’m just worried about him and…”
She placed her hand on Billy’s arm. “Jimmy will be fine. I’ve already bought a night light for my room. He can sleep with me and Dad from now on.”
“Does Dad know that?” Billy asked surprised.
“He’ll find out when he gets back from the road,” she said. “And if he doesn’t like it, he can start sleeping on the couch.”
Billy smiled. “Thanks, Mom,” he said, feeling both grateful and relieved.
She rubbed Jimmy’s head again. “He’s my boy too,” she whispered.
Billy stood and grabbed two plates. “How much pasta do you want?” he asked his mom.
She looked up, shocked. “You’re going to serve me?” she asked.
He shrugged. “Sure, what’s the big deal?”
“Two scoops,” she said and then looked down at Jimmy. “It’s amazing what a summer can change.”
Jimmy whimpered once, begging for a free meal with his chocolate eyes.
She laughed. “And get our boy a plate too,” she said, scratching Jimmy’s muzzle. “No sauce.”
⁕
With Jimmy snuggled tightly against him, sleeping, Billy lay in bed with his fingers locked behind his head. College will be the real test, though, he decided. And it can’t be easy, if it’s caused Sophie to smoke weed. With no more Mom and Dad around to take care of the menial details known as survival, he realized it would be a matter of give and take. Though he would have to learn to do his own laundry, there would be no need to make a bed. It doesn’t make sense anyway, he thought, to straighten out something you’re only going to mess up again a few hours later. Cooking promised to be a real treat. Billy could already picture the frying pan, lined in crusted lard, atop some old stove. He’d only need to heat it up and drop whatever he dared eat into the bubbling oil. Beer would become a staple in the diet to help learn the important lessons of overindulgence: bed spins, projectile vomiting and waking the following morning with a vice-like headache.
Billy continued to stare at his bedroom ceiling in deep thought. After all the summer’s pain and suffering, he still felt grateful and content. He had no real idea what the future held, but there was no question about where he’d come from and everything that made Billy Baker who he was. And he also knew that he’d finally found his passion, his purpose—working with animals—which was all the direction he needed. For someone my age, he thought, at this stage in the game, how could I ask for more?
As he dozed off, his arm swung over the side of the bed. Instantly, his skin prickled and the tiny hairs on his arm stood on end. He pulled his hand up onto the bed, turned over and wrapped his arm around Jimmy. As ridiculous as it was, he would be taking the deep scars of childhood with him into adulthood. Monsters don’t exist, he told himself, but a small voice deep inside of him still questioned it.
⁕
>
In the morning, Billy awoke with the sun, making Jimmy stare at him in confusion. After a quick bathroom break for each of them and a medication-laced breakfast, they returned to Billy’s bedroom. Instead of grabbing the video game controller, Billy looked at Jimmy and grinned. “You feel like giving me a hand straightening up this dump?” he asked.
The tired mutt collapsed to the prone position, where he started his morning bath.
Billy laughed. “I don’t blame you.”
It took nearly two hours to see the carpet and an hour more before the room was thoroughly cleaned. Covered in sweat, Billy took a moment to appreciate his work. “I just hope it doesn’t give Mom a heart attack,” he told Jimmy, laughing.
Jimmy lifted his paw and placed it over his eyes.
Billy laughed harder. “You’re still such a clown,” he said, grabbing the overstuffed trash bag and swinging it over his shoulder. As they started to leave the room, Billy spotted a small white paper wedged into the corner of the room. He placed the trash bag down for a moment and reached for the paper. Right away, he recognized that it came from a Chinese fortune cookie. “Expect a season of change,” he read aloud and snickered. “Confucius hit that one on the head, didn’t he?” he said to Jimmy, throwing the fortune into the bulging trash bag.
⁕
Before Billy’s dad set off for another long, cross-country haul, they said their goodbyes. “You have everything you need to make that dream come true, right?” he asked.
“I do,” Billy said, knowing his father wasn’t referring to money.
The old man hugged him tight. “I know you do, Billy,” he said, his voice muffled from emotion. “I love you.”
Billy’s head snapped up. He knew it was true, always had, but when put into words it made his eyes instantly swell. “I love you, too, Dad.”
The big man nodded. “Well, go chase it down then,” he said, giving him one last hug.
The last few days of summer went by in a blur, filled with visits to the jail where Charlie awaited his fate, long talks with Sophie and a stop at Nick’s Pizza, where Billy and Mark finally shared the lunch they’d talked about since high school graduation.
The Changing Season Page 29