Strays

by Jennifer Caloyeras

  Had Dad even remembered that today was graduation day? I had been so hopeful after our big conversation together, probably too hopeful. I thought that he finally “got it” for once, but here he was letting me down once again. Maybe some people just weren’t capable of changing.

  Kevin welcomed the audience and began speaking about how we’d had a symbiotic relationship with the dogs; they helped us, and we helped them right back. Next, we did a short demonstration of everything we had taught the dogs over the summer, which included sitting, staying, rolling over, waiting to eat the food out of a bowl until we gave the command, not jumping up on people, barking on command (only about half the dogs could do that, and Roman certainly wasn’t one of them), and fetching and retrieving. As I ran through these exercises, I thought back to the first time I tried simply to walk Roman on a leash. He’d pulled so hard, and I’d been timid; I truly had thought he was going to kill me. But as I looked down at him on our last day together, it hit me again how similar we both were.

  We’d both been through so much in our short lives. Both of us were quick to anger, although Roman lashed out, and I kept mine inside. In truth, I needed to be a bit more like him, acknowledging and releasing my feelings as I felt them, and he needed to learn to be a bit more like me, not attacking everyone he perceived as a threat.

  And this summer, we had both met our goals.

  As Roman and I approached Kevin at the podium to receive my certificate of completion, my eyes locked on my father’s face; he was sitting in the back. He hadn’t forgotten about today. And what was more, his face was filled with pride, an expression that I hadn’t seen on him in ages.

  I took my certificate of completion and had a seat with the others.

  Kevin was back at the podium. “And now, a bittersweet time for both myself and my fearless participants in Ruff Rehabilitation. We say good-bye to the dogs we’ve come to know and love as they say hello to a whole new future.”

  It was time to let go of our dogs.

  Oak reached over and held my free hand. I was so happy to have him by my side.

  Kevin called each dog and trainer pair up to meet their new owners, who emerged from the audience with great exuberance. First went Talbot, then Shelley. I watched as they each passed their dog along to their new owner.

  Garrett went to a family of four.

  Bruce went to an older gentleman who walked with a cane.

  We were all shocked to see Sebastian, the Kite Boy, and his dad come up to collect Persia from Oak.

  “What?” Oak said as he handed the leash to the little boy.

  Sebastian’s father stepped forward. “Ever since he met you guys, he’s been bugging me about getting a dog. He wanted me to prove I like animals. This will be good for us. Thank you,” he said, giving Oak a hug.

  Tinkerbelle was next. Randy walked her to the front of the stage, and I watched the crowd to see who would emerge to claim her.

  “Perry?” I shrieked when I saw my teacher take the stage. She didn’t take the leash from Randy, who was holding it out to her, but instead picked up the dog and cradled her in her arms.

  “We are going to have so much fun!” she said. She looked over at me and gave me a huge thumbs-up.

  “You know her?” asked Talbot.

  “Yeah, she’s amazing!”

  I was so happy for Tinkerbelle but secretly wished Perry had taken Roman home instead. Kevin had assured us that every dog had a new home, but what if the new owners backed out? Never showed up? Or worse—what if they were sitting there and were totally unimpressed with the way I had trained Roman? What if they felt the same trepidation that I’d felt on that first day of working with him?

  My stomach tossed and turned with the returning fear that Roman would be put to death and it would be all my fault.

  “And last but not least,” Kevin began, “a dog with a long and complicated history, Roman.”

  Oak gave my hand one last squeeze before I stood up, with Roman heeling by my side, and headed toward the front of the stage. I looked out into the crowd. No one was walking toward the stage to gather Roman. The new owner wasn’t coming. Roman would die.

  I looked at Kevin, who read the panic on my face and pointed out into the crowd, where a man in his thirties was assisting a very pregnant woman up out of her seat. They walked slowly to the stage, and he held her hand, helping her up the stairs.

  “This is Rashida and Jacob. This is Iris,” said Kevin, introducing us. I went to shake their hands, but they brought me into a three-way embrace.

  “I hope he likes babies,” said Rashida, rubbing her bulging belly.

  “He’ll be great with kids,” I said.

  I leaned down to Roman. He looked at me with his big brown eyes. His eyebrows turned up and his head cocked to the side as if to question what was going on.

  I petted him on the head and leaned down close to his ear.

  “I love you,” I said. “I always will. Be a good boy. These people are going to love you, too.”

  When I leaned in to give him one last hug, I felt him rest his head on my shoulder. I could tell he knew what was happening in that moment. He was telling me that he loved me, too. And the whole time I was thinking what a luxury it was to get the chance to say good-bye to somebody you love.

  *

  After the ceremony, Perry found me in the crowd.

  “These are for you,” she said, handing me a bouquet of wildflowers.

  “Thanks,” I said, taking the flowers.

  “That was a pretty special ceremony,” said Perry.

  “I’m so glad you’re taking Tinkerbelle home.”

  “You know, I’m not supposed to be sharing this information with you until we officially file grades next week, but you wrote a knockout final paper. You got an A-minus in the class, Iris!”

  “Are you serious?” I asked, completely relieved.

  Perry nodded, her new dog at her feet begging to be picked up. Perry obliged.

  “It’s good to have a dog again,” she said, kissing Tinkerbelle on the nose. “I have to run. We’re headed straight for the pet store for another doggie bed—I want one in every room! Congratulations again, Iris. You’ve worked so hard.”

  “Thanks, Perry.”

  She turned to leave with her new dog. In the distance I could see Roman jumping into the backseat of the Volvo with his new owners. His tail wagging, he was excited for the adventure ahead.

  “Hey, Perry!” I shouted out to her. “Are you teaching at SC High next year?” It would be amazing to have her as my English teacher senior year.

  “No can do, I’m afraid. I’m strictly a summer hire. It’s back to substitute teaching for me during the year. But hey, if your English teacher ever gets sick, I’m the girl to call.”

  Well, at least I knew there was no way they were ever going to give me Mrs. Schneider again.

  Ashley ran up to me and gave me a huge bear hug.

  “I’m so glad I came!” she said.

  “Me, too.” It was so good to see her.

  “I can’t believe I wasted my whole summer inside a coffee shop and you got to do this incredible thing!”

  Ashley was right. What had started out as a punishment had turned out to be a gift.

  I wanted more time with her. “Hey, want to join us at Lighthouse? We’re all going for a swim.”

  “Sure! I’d love to. Just have to run home and get my suit. Should I invite Sierra? She leaves for college in three days.”

  I hesitated for a moment, wondering if we could go back to being who we were as a group, but I wanted to give them a chance to get to know the real me.

  “Yeah, I’d like that,” I said.

  Dad sat back and waited for me to say my good-byes to my friends and to Kevin before approaching me. Dad was wearing board shorts, and his hair was slicked back, wet.

  “You did great up there,” he said.

  “Thanks.”

  We looked at each other for a while—two people not knowing
what to say.

  “You smell like fish,” I said, recognizing the saltwater smell on his body.

  He nodded with a big grin across his face.

  “You were in the ocean?” I asked.

  “I needed to think. It’s where she always did her best thinking. I thought I’d try it out.”

  “And? How did it go?”

  “I found her today. In the water,” he said.

  I thought about how I had felt swimming in the ocean with Talbot. Mom had been everywhere then, and Dad had just experienced the exact same feeling.

  “She’s not gone,” he said, trying to convince me.

  “I know.” I didn’t know why it always took him longer to get things.

  “I haven’t been very good to you.”

  “Dad,” I interrupted.

  “No, hear me out. I acted like I knew everything, like my way was the only way. Like I was perfect. I’m far from it, Iris. I’m just slogging through who to be without your mother around. I was so focused on that loss that I took for granted the fact that you were still right here. I’m so sorry. I’m so very sorry.”

  And then my father did something I’d only seen him do once, on the day of my mother’s funeral. He cried. And I did the only thing I could think of; I leaned in toward him and wrapped my arms around him and held him tight.

  It was good to see him acting like a human rather than a working robot.

  “I got a job,” he said, when he finally calmed down enough to talk.

  “You did? Where?”

  “It’s no big deal. I’ll be shelving inventory at a bulk sale store on Ocean. The pay isn’t great, but the hours aren’t as crazy, which means I’ll have a lot more time to spend with you, if you want to.”

  “I would like that,” I said.

  “And I’m paying you back, for everything. Every time I get a paycheck, a quarter of it is going to go to you. It may take some time, but I promise to have it all back to you.”

  “Thanks, Dad,” I said.

  “It looks like someone’s waiting for you.”

  I turned to see where he was pointing. Oak was leaning against a cypress tree, watching us.

  “Yeah, I should go.”

  “He looks like a nice dude.”

  “Dad, no one says ‘dude’ anymore, but yeah, he is nice. You’ll like him.”

  “I’m real proud of you, Iris. Your mom would be, too.”

  I nodded and wondered if Mom would have gotten over her fear of dogs if she had seen me go through a program like this.

  “I’m making dinner tonight. Cheeseburgers on the grill. You can invite your friend if you want.”

  “Can you make it veggie burgers?” I asked. I hadn’t realized until that moment that since I started working with the dogs I had been avoiding consuming any sort of animal, and I wanted to keep it that way.

  “Are you going vegetarian on me?” he asked.

  “You should try it,” I said.

  “I just might do that,” said my dad.

  I couldn’t believe that my choice might actually have an influence on the way he ate.

  “See you later?”

  “Yup,” I said, giving Dad one last hug before joining Oak.

  “That looked intense,” Oak said.

  “Beyond intense.”

  “You okay?”

  “I will be.” I put my hand in his. “Oh, by the way, are you good with spackle and a paintbrush?”

  “I guess.”

  “Good, then you’re coming over for dinner tonight,” I told him. After we ate, I would ask Oak to help me patch up all of the gashes on my closet wall. These were my scars. It was time to let them heal.

  “Oh, am I?” He pressed his body against mine and kissed me on the lips. A wonderful zing flew through my body. It was a feeling the opposite of rage, equally electric and overpowering.

  “Ready for a swim?” I asked as he opened the passenger door for me.

  “To the ocean, Ms. Moody.”

  I hopped in his car, and as we wound south along the cliffs, I looked out over the glistening Pacific, the endless ocean that made my world seem vast and unpredictable and full of possibility.

  epilogue

  It is the middle of February. I have planted myself in the corner of the library, wearing a wool sweater I bought in a secondhand store in Santa Cruz when I went back for winter break.

  I’m not in Rhode Island but in Seattle, studying animal psychology at the University of Washington. It’s not snowing out, as I’d hoped it would be in my library fantasy, but the rain falls in thick sheets, lulling me into a focused trance. If I allow myself to get distracted enough, I go through a running list of assignments I have to complete for my British literature course (I’m minoring in English).

  Dad has a new job as a restaurant manager. It’s not quite what he wants to be doing, but it’s paying the bills, and each month, like he promised, part of his check goes straight to my savings account.

  Oak is living in San Jose, working for some bigwig computer company. We’re still seeing each other when we can, over my vacation breaks. He said he’d be able to come up and visit sometime in April, which really isn’t too far off.

  But mostly, when my mind wanders from cognitive behavior, it goes straight to Roman, whom I picture running along a beach somewhere, off-leash, sniffing the sand, dampening his nose in the ocean, and slowly learning to trust the world again.

  Acknowledgments

  Grateful acknowledgment is extended to my editors at Ashland Creek Press, Midge Raymond and John Yunker.

  I’d like to thank each of these people for their part in helping me make this book: Andrea Quaid, Sheila Clark, Albert Mikulencak, Melissa Clark, Ron Clark, Lurie Strand, Lael Smith, and Lily Ng.

  Special thanks to my husband, Basil, and my two boys, Peter and Phoenix, for their love, constant support, and enthusiasm.

  The project was made possible in part by a grant from the Center for Cultural Innovation.

  About the Author

  Photo credit: Elizabeth Daniels

  Jennifer Caloyeras holds a M.A. in English literature from Cal State Los Angeles and an M.F.A. in creative writing through the University of British Columbia. She is the author of the young adult novel Urban Falcon, and her short stories have appeared in a variety of literary magazines, including Booth and Storm Cellar. She is the dog columnist for the Los Feliz Ledger. Jennifer lives in Los Angeles with her husband and two sons.

  Ashland Creek Press is an independent publisher of books with a world view. Our mission is to publish a range of books that foster an appreciation for worlds outside our own, for nature and the animal kingdom, for the creative process, and for the ways in which we all connect. To keep up-to-date on new and forthcoming works, subscribe to our free newsletter by visiting www.AshlandCreekPress.com.