Rescue My Heart

by Avery Ford

  Arthur made a face as he opened the spout of the travel mug and took a sip. Quip liked his coffee sweetened and lightened, so the taste wasn’t all that bad, but Arthur wasn’t a huge fan of coffee to begin with. Between eighteen credits worth of courses and almost full-time work, though, coffee was quickly becoming a necessity.

  “Okay,” Arthur said once he’d swallowed. “I’m caffeinated and ready to hear you out. What’s going on? Did you meet someone new?”

  “Nice try at deflection there, bud.” Quip winked. “Nah. This is about you. I’m worried about you.”

  “Worried?” Arthur frowned. “Why?”

  “Uh, well, let’s see.” Quip looked skyward in mock contemplation, then started counting reasons on his fingers. “We’ll start with those bags beneath your eyes. I’m pretty sure human skin doesn’t look that way even in the deceased. Then there’s the fact that your memory is obviously shot. Exhibit A, this coffee.”

  “What about this coffee?” Arthur asked, perplexed. “What does it have to do with me?”

  “Well, the first is that you promised we’d meet up to snag some coffee before class, but then never called me to cancel.” Quip folded up the front page of the packet to get to the questions on the next page.

  Arthur winced. “I’m sorry.”

  “… The second is that you’re lactose intolerant, and you just swigged back my coffee without even thinking twice.”

  “Shit!” Arthur clamped his hands over his mouth, panicked. “Quip, why the hell would you do that to me? I’ve got to go to work after class!”

  “Mr. Jessup, Mr. Reddings, is there a problem?” Dr. Halifax asked from the front of the room.

  “No sir,” Quip replied. “We’re all right. Thank you for checking in on us. We’re getting to work, we promise.”

  “We are not all right!” Arthur whispered frantically beneath his breath. “I’m about to have a total intestinal meltdown, Quip!”

  “Cool your jets, space cadet,” Quip replied in the same low voice. “I got lactose free creamer instead of half-and-half like I usually get. Your bowels are safe another day. But do you see what I mean?” He fixed Arthur with a hard look. “You’re overlooking a lot of really important stuff. I’m worried about you.”

  Arthur shook his head slowly. “I’m just stressed out is all. Since my dad’s not paying for college anymore, I’ve been working as much as I can to make sure I can afford tuition, keep my apartment, and not starve.”

  “I know.” Quip prodded Arthur with the eraser end of his pencil. “So what are you going to do about it? Are you going to drop some of your electives?”

  “I can’t afford to.” Arthur hung his head. “I’ve got to get these credits in so my application for grad school isn’t automatically rejected.”

  “Biology?”

  “Yeah.” Arthur looked up. “I’m going to be stressed out and sleepless when I’m studying to become a geneticist, right? So this is kind of like a practice run.”

  “You’re being way too hard on yourself.” Quip slid the coffee back across the table so it rested in front of him. “I know that what happened with your parents rocked your world in all kinds of awful ways, but if you keep doing this, you’re going to burn out. There are other options, you know.”

  “I’m really not convinced that there are. I’m afraid of drowning in debt for the rest of my life.” Debt was the absolute last thing Arthur wanted to concern himself with. With everything else going on, he didn’t need that burden weighing him down. “I mean, it’s not like working minimum wage jobs is going to take care of all of it, but I need to make a dent.”

  “Get a loan,” Quip prompted. “There are student lines of credit you can get from the bank with low interest rates. There are also student scholarships you can apply for. You don’t have to work yourself to the bone, you know.”

  “But what happens if I stop?” Arthur tightened his hands into fists. He hadn’t so much as looked at the pset before him. “I feel like I’ve been working full speed ahead for so long that if I don’t have something to do, I’m going to collapse. You know how they say when people stop working, when they lose their purpose, that’s when they start to get sick? I feel like that would happen to me.”

  “Then don’t stop.” Quip shrugged. “I don’t know if what you said is true or not, but if it’s something you’re worried about, then reallocate your time to something else. Get a loan, quit your job, and do something. I don’t know. If you think you’ve got that much time to sit on, get a puppy or something. That’ll fill your day right up.”

  A puppy? Arthur huffed a laugh through his nose and shook his head. A puppy was the last thing he needed in his life right now. All the work and responsibility were way too much for someone in his situation.

  “No way,” Arthur said. “Even if my apartment allowed pets — which it doesn’t — I’m not ready to take care of a puppy, anyway. There’s so much you need to do to get them socialized and housebroken. I don’t even really know how to properly train one. It wouldn’t be fair for me to get a dog, then have to devote huge chunks of my time to being in lectures, anyway. I’ve got plans to be in school all the way through to my PhD, and that means a lot of time spent in the library or in class. I couldn’t do that to an animal.”

  “I don’t know then.” Quip shrugged. “All I know is that you’ve wanted a dog since high school, but if it’s not going to bring you any joy, then there are tons of other options. I don’t know. You could do the whole big brother thing, or volunteer at a soup kitchen. Hell, if you wanted to get a dose of dog without any of the responsibility, you could volunteer at a shelter.”

  “Mr. Reddings,” Dr. Halifax said respectfully from the front of the lecture hall.

  “Sorry, doctor,” Quip replied with a charming smile. “We’re getting to those psets, I swear.”

  “I’ll think about it,” Arthur whispered, opening the front of the pset to read through the first problem. “That doesn’t mean yes, by the way.”

  “I know, I know.” Quip patted him on the back. “But thinking’s a good first step. Thinking leads to doing. Doing leads to your health not crashing and burning the semester you’re set to graduate. You didn’t take the GREs and pay all those application fees for nothing, you know? If you’re going to go to grad school, you’re going to need your energy.”

  Arthur appreciated the encouragement, but he also didn’t think Quip knew what he was talking about. Quip hadn’t ever gone through the things he’d been going through. He didn’t know what it was like to be alone.

  The psets weren’t the only problems in Arthur’s life, but he needed to be strong and persevere.

  Failure was not an option. He refused to let himself down.

  3

  Arthur

  Class ended. The psets were due next week. They were going to take up a huge chunk of Arthur’s time. He’d managed to figure his way through the first page with Quip’s help, but the subject matter was dense, and the answers weren’t evident. If he was lucky, he’d find time to attend one of the study groups the biology undergrads organized.

  If he was unlucky — which was far more likely — he’d have to slog through the problems on his own. Sometimes that meant incomplete assignments or roadblocks in understanding.

  “Are you going to head to work now?” Quip asked as they packed their belongings.

  “Yup.” Arthur slid his notebook into his bag, then rubbed his tired eyes. They’d started to burn from exhaustion. “I’m going to be on until… one-ish. Whenever we finish cleaning and closing.”

  “That’s shitty.” Quip ran his fingers through his hair, then shook it out. “Do you have tomorrow off, at least?”

  “Yeah. Um. Sort of.” Arthur looked away, wanting to dodge the question.

  “Sort of?” Quip leaned forward. “What does ‘sort of’ mean?”

  “It means I’ve got the morning off,” Arthur admitted in a small voice. “We don’t open until eleven, for lunch.”

&n
bsp; Quip covered his eyes with his hand and shook his head slowly. “And I bet you’re going to be up early, studying.”

  “Hopefully.” Arthur zipped up his bag and stood. “And I’ll be thinking, too. I promised you I would. I’m not going to forget.”

  “You say that now, but there’s a good chance it’s going to go in one ear and out the other.” Quip picked up his bag by the strap and tossed it over his shoulder. “Let me walk you to the bus, at least. I need to make sure you don’t forget your way.”

  “Ha ha.” Arthur stepped out onto the stairs leading down to the bottom of the lecture hall. “I’m—” He hit something solid and cut himself off, stumbling down a step or two. When he turned, he found himself looking up at Dalton Parker.

  Dalton was built like a football player. He kept his hair short and Arthur was fairly certain he dyed it black. Out of any of the biology undergraduates at Corcavia University, he was the one Arthur wanted the least to do with.

  “Watch where you’re going,” Dalton said through gritted teeth. “And really? You and Reddings should learn to keep your mouths shut. Some of us are in class to learn, not to gossip. You think that with finals coming up, you guys would get to work.”

  Arthur opened his mouth to speak, but he didn’t find the words to say. Instead, emotion rose up inside of him, overwhelming him and short-circuiting his brain. The burning in his eyes turned to water, and he blinked away stinging tears of frustration.

  Really? You think that I’m not taking this seriously?

  “Hey, hey,” Quip said, trying to draw Arthur back toward the table. “It’s okay. No need to get redfaced about it, right?”

  “I’m just stating the facts.” Dalton jerked the strap of his backpack, jaw set. “All of us here are trying to get an education. If you want to talk, you should just skip class. Give the rest of us time to learn.”

  Arthur found his words, and they came out in rapid succession. “You have no right to say that to me!”

  “Uh?” Dalton cocked his head to the side. “Excuse me?”

  “You have no right to say I’m not here to learn!” Arthur’s cheeks flushed hot. He balled his fists, eager to do something to get the anger out of his system. “You have no idea how hard I’m busting my ass to make sure I’m here every day. You couldn’t even imagine how much I’ve worked for this.”

  “Apparently not enough to tell a lecture hall from a kitchen.” Dalton jabbed at the air, pointing at the emblem on Arthur’s shirt. “Newsflash: we’re here to learn about genetics, not put pizzas in the oven.”

  The anger inside didn’t come out smoothly — it boiled over. Arthur rushed up the stairs on the verge of a breakdown and ready to take Dalton along with him. Before he could, Quip grabbed his arm and dragged him back near where they’d been sitting. Dalton shot them both a dirty look, then descended the stairs to exit through the doors at the front of the room.

  “Arthur, whoa,” Quip said. “Calm down. It looked like you were going to slug that guy.”

  “I was.” Arthur clenched and relaxed his fists, the raw emotion eating him from the inside out. Since his parents had cut him off and ceased contact, he’d been doing everything in his power to make a life for himself. He was putting himself through school on his own dime. “He has no idea what my struggles are. He has everything handed to him, and then he has the nerve to insult me like that?”

  “To be fair, we were talking through class.” Quip squeezed Arthur’s shoulder, and Arthur melted into his touch like Quip was a hot frying pan and he was an ice cube. “Take a breather. Relax. Do you see now why I said that you really need to get that loan? You’ve been going like this for almost a full year now, trying to make enough money to keep living. It’s not wrong to need help, and it’s not wrong to be in debt. As long as you’re responsible — and I know you are — you’re going to be fine.”

  “Do you really think so?” Arthur cooled down. Knowing Quip was there to keep him in check was a blessing. Maybe he was a little high-strung.

  “I know so. How do you think I’m affording tuition? It’s not like my parents have the kind of green Dalton’s have.” Quip’s hand moved from Arthur’s shoulder to his back. He pushed him gently. “So let’s get you to your last shift, and when you’re there, you’re going to tell the manager that you’re giving your official two weeks’ notice, okay?”

  “I…” Arthur swallowed, nervous. “I guess so.”

  “No, you know so.” Quip led him down the stairs, then out through the same doors Dalton had gone through. “And while you’re in the kitchen putting cheese that would probably kill you on pizzas your definitely can’t eat, you’re going to figure out exactly what it is you want to do with your new free time so you don’t ‘slow down’ like you’re so afraid you will, okay?”

  But Arthur already knew what he wanted. Quip was right. He couldn’t keep a dog with his plans for a busy future, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t look after a few of them on a voluntary basis at Locust Hills Animal Shelter. It wouldn’t make him money or advance his life goals any, but Arthur knew that he was stressed out, and something had to give.

  Besides, puppies were a hell of a lot better for his heart than pizza could ever be.

  Two weeks to the day later, Arthur found himself standing in front of Locust Hills Animal Shelter. It was located down a county road, hardly more than a ten-minute drive from the outskirts of the downtown core. The building was in need of a facelift, but aside from some aged siding and an unfortunate dirt driveway up from the road, it was decent.

  Rollins wasn’t particularly large, but as a college town, it was far from barren. Arthur had moved there from Montpelier, Vermont, to attend classes. But no matter how cute the town was, Arthur couldn’t see himself staying for long. The fact was, he had his eye on Blackburn University in Florida, which boasted one of the best biology programs in America. The genetics professors there were excellent, and Arthur was eager to advance his education with them.

  But all of that was a long shot. Arthur had no idea if he’d even get in.

  I guess I should head inside.

  Still, Arthur hesitated. He fidgeted with his belt loop, finding himself suddenly apprehensive about the whole thing. He’d wanted to share his life with a dog since he was a kid, but was volunteering here the right thing to do? He knew next to nothing about caring for dogs, and it wasn’t like he had any experience training them. What if he ended up being more trouble than the dogs were?

  The shelter door swung open and a young woman stepped through. She set her hands on her wide hips and looked Arthur over. Bright red hair fell in a loose curl to frame one side of her face — the rest was twisted up and pinned to the top of her head. She wore ratty jeans with worn knees and an old t-shirt she’d tied to one side.

  “You Arthur?” she asked. Arthur thought he heard a Southern drawl behind her words.

  “Umm, yeah. Hi.”

  “Name’s Celeste.” She held her hand out to him. “I saw on the schedule you’d be coming in today. I didn’t realize that you’d need to be invited through the door, or I would’ve come to get you sooner.”

  Arthur stepped forward and shook her hand. Celeste already reminded him of Quip, and the familiarity helped him feel at home. “Nice to meet you, Celeste. Sorry for standing around.”

  “Naw, don’t apologize.” The handshake broke. It’d been firm. “Everyone has jitters on their first day. Let’s get you set up with the paperwork, and then we’ll get you into action.”

  “Paperwork?” Arthur blinked. “I’m just volunteering.”

  “Yeah, I know. The shelter needs you to sign release forms in case you ever happen to get bitten, or anything else. Basically it says you’re aware you’re handling rescued dogs, and that you acknowledge that the shelter is waived of any legal responsibility for any injuries you incur.”

  Celeste led the way forward, and Arthur followed her through the door and into the lobby of the shelter. There was a window up front that revealed an of
fice. Celeste left him in the lobby and entered through the office door to hand him his papers.

  “Does that happen often?” Arthur asked. “Dog bites, I mean?”

  “Nope. There are some aggressive dogs here, but they’re well labeled, and if you choose to mess with them, you know it’s coming.” She placed a paper on the flat ledge of the window. It was broad enough to write on, so Arthur took one of the pens from the pen cup on the ledge and started to fill out the fields. All of it was very straightforward. “I wouldn’t worry too much. I’m going to show you around, and when we get to the kennels, I’ll show you how to tell which dogs are which. It probably won’t be too hard to figure out.”

  Arthur nodded. He kept his pen to the paper and worked as quickly as he could. When he was done, he returned the paper to Celeste, who initialed it and filed it away.

  “All right,” Celeste said brightly. “Let’s go.”

  There was a heavy door with a keypad on it on the adjacent wall from the office door. Celeste emerged from the office, punched in a code, and held the door open for Arthur.

  “Eventually, you’ll learn the code, too,” she said. “But we get a lot of people who come in and help once, then disappear forever, so we wait until know for sure that someone’s going to be good about showing up before we give them the numbers. Plus, there are some really weird and desperate people. You can never be too careful.”

  “Right.” Arthur didn’t know what kind of person would steal a dog from a shelter, and he hoped he’d never find out.

  “So, through these doors is the main hallway, and we’ve got the cats up first.” Celeste gestured as she spoke. The door closed behind them, locking in place. “To the left are all the healthy cats currently available for adoption. There are three rooms, and they’re separated by age. You’ve got your kittens, then your young adults, then your seniors. You can see all of them through the glass windows on the door.”

  Arthur peeked into the first window. The room was filled with cat trees, and the kittens made good use of them. Some lay sleeping in huddled piles. Other played and scratched at the built-in scratching posts. There was a long, shallow water dish a little like a trough in one corner of the room, and a huge round bowl of dried cat food was set up beside it. Across the room, pushed against the wall, were litter boxes.