by Katy Regnery
But for me and Juliet, time was slipping away like the last bits of sand in an hourglass—and everyone knows the last grains always go the fastest.
Last night, we fed the dogs as soon as we got home and fell into bed by five o’clock. We slept for thirteen hours, waking up at six this morning to feed the dogs breakfast.
We don’t speak much as we feed them, perhaps because we’re both still a little exhausted from the race, but also because it’s difficult to discuss disappointment. It’s hard to put heartbreak into words. And though I desperately try not to watch the clock, I hear its nonstop ticking in my head: it’s Tuesday morning, and Juliet leaves on Thursday. Our time together is almost at an end.
And sometimes, when it rains, it pours.
Jonas shows up midmorning to return Viola, whom I asked him to watch for the three days we were racing, and I can tell, from one look at his troubled face, that something’s wrong.
“Hey, Cody,” he says, leaning over the chain-link kennel fence as I finish changing the dogs’ hay.
“Hey, Jonas.”
“Get some rest last night?”
I nod. “Thirteen hours.”
“Whew!” he says. “Bet you feel more yourself this morning.”
I scan my friend’s face, cutting to the chase. “Jonas, what’s going on? You look...”
“Yeah,” he says, his smile fading. “I need to talk to you.”
“About...?”
“Viola.”
Surprised, my eyes slip to her, sitting obediently at his feet.
“Sure,” I say, casting a look back at Juliet, who’s pushing the food cart back into the grub shack.
When I slip from the kennel enclosure, my eyes slide to Jonas’s, and I feel it in my bones: that terrible sense of foreboding when you’re about to get very bad news.
“What’s going on?”
“About Viola...have you, uh...you noticed her moving slower lately?”
I squat down and take off my gloves with my teeth, then plunge my hands into Vi’s ruff, scratching her neck as best I can with what I’ve got. The answer to his question is “yes,” but I can’t bear to say it.
“What’s up, Jonas?” I ask in a gravelly voice.
He tightens his jaw for a second. “Let’s talk inside.”
“No,” I say, sitting back on my butt next to Viola. “Here’s good. Just tell me.”
“There’s blood in her stool. I only noticed it because our backyard’s so small and snowy.” He takes a deep breath. “I tested her, and it’s cancer, Cody. Likely started in the spleen, but it’s affecting her liver and lungs now, too.” He pauses, then adds: “She’s got tumors everywhere.”
“Jonas!” greets Juliet, joining us at the fence. “Thanks for the drinks yesterday!”
“Hey, Juliet,” he says.
I don’t look up at her. If I do, I’ll cry. Instead, I sit next to Vi, who lies down on the snow and places her head on my thigh. Behind her ears is her softest fur, and my fingers—my stubby, melted fingers that never bothered her a bit—scratch gently.
“Is she...in pain?” I whisper.
“What? Who? What’s going on?” asks Juliet from above me. “What...what’s happening here?”
Jonas sighs, the sound heavy. “Viola’s sick. Stage four spleen cancer.”
“Wh-what? No.” Juliet’s voice holds all the heartbreak I feel. “Wh—How do you know? Are you sure?”
“Yeah. I did an ultrasoun—”
“What about a splenectomy?”
“It’s already in her liver and lungs. I found blood in her stool and her urine.”
Juliet inhales sharply. “Oh, my God.”
There’s no gulping over the lump in my throat, no swallowing it down. I stroke Vi’s head gently. “How long?”
Jonas clears his throat. “A month. Maybe...less.”
Juliet whimpers above me, and I finally slide my eyes to hers, ignoring the wetness of tears on my cheeks.
“Don’t cry, darlin’.”
“Oh, Cody,” she sobs, surging through the gate and dropping to her knees in the snow in front of me. “I’m so, s-so s-sorry, Cody.” She reaches out and places her palm gingerly on Vi’s back. “Oh, Viola.”
“What should I do?” I ask her.
I’m asking the human being I love and trust most in the world if I should put down my dog—my beloved dog, the dog who saved my life and was my constant and loyal companion during the loneliest days I’ve ever known. I’m asking her to make this decision for me, because I’m not sure I can bear to make it myself.
“Is she in pain?” Juliet reaches up to swipe at tears as she looks at Jonas. “Do you think she’s in any pain?”
“Hard to say.” Jonas shrugs. “She doesn’t whimper or cry in her sleep. She’s losing blood for certain, but I’ve seen worse. Some dogs with her condition will get weaker and more light-headed until they pass away in their sleep. Others—”
“Where is she?” I ask. “In the process of dying?”
“She’s still eating small meals. She moves slowly so there’s probably some discomfort, but I can give her something for that. I think it’s okay to hold onto her a little longer. Couple more weeks. You’ll know when it’s time to say good-bye.”
Couple more weeks.
Juliet sniffles softly. “Poor Viola.”
“Worst part of this job,” says Jonas.
I finally look up at my friend. “Couldn’t have been easy to tell me.”
“I thought to tell you yesterday, but I didn’t want to ruin your celebration.”
Juliet stands up and places a hand on Jonas’s arm. “You’re a good friend.”
“Don’t feel so much like one today.” He shrugs sadly. “Carry her up and down steps when you can, Cody. Don’t let her jump up or down on furniture or she could further rupture the tumor. Small meals. Sweet words. You can give her a couple of good weeks before you have to say good-bye.”
“Okay,” I tell him, nodding that I understand his instructions.
“Speaking of good-byes,” says Juliet, “I’m going to miss you.”
“When do you head home?”
“Thursday,” she says, and I never knew before that moment that a day of the week could be a dagger in my heart. “My flight leaves at eight thirty.”
“Try to stop by the Klondike and say good-bye to Rita before you go. She’ll want to wish you well.”
“I’ll try,” she says, hugging Jonas before stepping away.
I move Viola’s head gently from my leg and stand up to shake hands with my friend. “Thanks for looking after her, Jonas.”
“I’m so sorry, Cody. Hate like hell that I’m the bearer of sad news.”
“Aw,” I murmur softly, blinking my eyes like crazy as they well with more tears. “If, uh...if it had to be said, I’m glad it came from um...from you.”
I lean back down, slowly picking up my sweet, old friend as tenderly as I can, and holding her against my chest like a baby. My cheeks are probably still glistening with tears. I don’t care. I feel like I’m losing everything that matters in my life at once, and it sucks.
Jonas heads back to his car.
I turn around with my dog and walk into my house.
***
Juliet makes a special bed for Viola in my room, on the green carpet, by the stove. It’s the two pillows from her bed upstairs covered with the white, furry blanket from the bean bag chair. She gently coaxes Vi to lie down in the little nest, and she does, immediately closing her eyes to sleep.
“You should start using this door to let her go outside,” says Juliet, gesturing to the external door in my room. “Maybe we could get a baby gate and block off the back deck, so she doesn’t have to use stairs. She can do her business on the deck and we’ll just, you know, pick it up for her.”
“Yeah. Okay,” I say. “I’ll go to AC’s tomorrow. They’ll have something.”
I sit down on the edge of the bed, watching Viola sleep. Juliet sits down next to me, ta
king one of my hands in hers and putting her head on my shoulder.
“I know how much she means to you,” she whispers. “I’m so sorry.”
I want her sympathy, but I need her comfort too. The comfort of her body moving against mine, of being buried to the hilt in her warm wetness, of knowing that I am loved when I feel so fucking sad.
“Kiss me,” I whisper. “I need you.”
Her hands, so soft and warm, land on my cheeks, covering the tears drying there as her eyes look deeply into mine.
“I’m here.”
She leans forward, her lips touching mine tenderly as she reaches for the zipper on my coat and pulls it down. As she smooths it over my shoulders, I reach behind my neck with both hands and take off my flannel and T-shirt, throwing them on the ground and deepening our kiss. Her fingers land on the button of my jeans, and she flicks it open, unzipping the fly just as quickly.
Breaking off our kiss, she stands up and undresses quickly as I push my jeans to the floor and draw her naked body into my arms.
“I love you,” I say. “I’ve never loved anyone like this. You’re it for me, Juliet. Forever. For the rest of my life, it’s only you.”
She sobs, pressing her body against mine as I fall back on the bed, taking her with me. We kiss passionately, her tears salting our lips as she straddles my hips and lowers herself onto me, guiding my erection into her body.
When we are connected as intimately as possible, she sits up straight and looks down at me. “I love you, too. So much, Cody.”
I reach for her hips, guiding her back and forth across my hips, impaling her to the hilt, then sliding her back.
“We will find each other again,” I promise her. “Hold on.”
“I’ll...hold on,” she says, arching her back, her amazing tits full and flushed, her nipples pert in the morning light that streams through my bedroom window. “I promise.”
“We’ll figure this out,” I tell her, sitting up so that I can look into her eyes while we make love.
Her ankles wrap around my waist and her arms loop around my neck as I continue to thrust upward, into the sweet heaven of her body.
Her lips linger on my neck, pressing against my pulse, resting on my heart.
“Tell me we’ll be alright,” I beg her, dropping my forehead to her shoulder as I surge into her again.
I can feel the muscles deep inside of her start to convulse around my cock, and she whimpers softly by my ear as she murmurs, “I love you. That’s all I know for sure.”
My arms are around her as she climaxes, and I am not long behind her, crying out her name as I come in jerking waves of bliss.
“I love you...I love you...I love you too.”
Afterward, we lie in bed, holding each other close and desperately hoping that our love is strong enough for the separation that lies ahead.
Chapter 14
Two Weeks Later
Juliet
I miss him.
It is a constant ache in my heart.
A bitter emptiness within me.
I miss his voice and his face.
I miss the unique clasp of his hand.
I miss his warm body next to mine.
I miss caring for the dogs and sharing our meals together.
I miss the wind in my hair and the whisper of my sled in the snow.
I even miss the Klondike and shopping trips to AC’s and Rita’s pizza.
But most of all, I just miss Cody. His strong, gentle presence in my life.
We talked on the phone a few times our first week apart, but the conversations were so sad and stilted, and threw me into such a depression after hanging up, I’d lose a whole evening to tears when I should have been studying or writing up my study.
I finally texted him and asked him not to call me for a little while, and he agreed.
But when I think about him in Nome, with his beloved Viola dying before his very eyes, it makes me want to buy a ticket with money I don’t have, screw my fellowship, fuck graduation, and be there to comfort him. I love him. I’m wracked with guilt that I’m not supporting him.
Except I worked for eight years to graduate from veterinary school, and I’m almost finished. I can’t quit now. And something tells me he wouldn’t let me anyway.
At least for the short-term, I need to get used to being here again. I need to figure out a way to live day-by-day without Cody. I need to figure out a way to toughen up about the distance between us. And if I can’t...maybe I need to let him go. That’s what Sil says, anyway.
“Juliet, this isn’t healthy. I know you liked him a lot, but—”
“I didn’t just ‘like him a lot,’” I try to explain to her. “I love him. Present tense.”
“But you don’t even know when you’ll see him again! I mean, you’ve got no plan. No future. What are you going to do? Move to Nome?”
“This, from a lifetime subscriber of The Odds Are Good!” I exclaim. “Need I remind you that this entire plan was your idea?”
“I never would have chosen a guy in Nome,” she tells me, which certainly sounds like a different tune from the one she sang back in September. “Anchorage? Yes. Juneau? Maybe. Ketchikan or Sitka? Sigh. Yes, please. But Nome? Who the hell goes to Nome?”
Me, that’s who.
“I miss him.”
“You’re a broken record.”
“I can’t help it.”
“You need to get out more,” Sil tells me. “Meet new people. Remember how much fun it is here. You only have a few months left at college!”
The thing is? It isn’t fun here. I’m spoiled for here because Cody isn’t here with me.
As I type up the final draft of my study, my memories of the Qimmiq come back in blazing intensity, and I remember that last night on the trail when Cody woke me up to tell me that another team had passed us.
We knew it then. We could both see it. Our chances of planning a future together in the short-term were dashed. Which leaves...what? Nebulous plans of “someday”? How do we hold on to what we have, waiting for an unpromised “someday” that may never happen?
I read once that friends come into your life for a reason, a season or a lifetime...what if the same is true of romantic relationships? What if Cody and I were only supposed to last for a season—because we were thrown together for a precious few months, and propinquity turned our hearts to each other? When you are apart from the one you love, these sorts of dark thoughts prey on you, and it’s so exhausting—the fight not to give into them—that sometimes you end up surrendering not from a lack of love, but from a lack of strength.
Be strong, Juliet.
I tell myself that after I graduate, Cody and I can find our way, whatever that is. I tell myself that ours was the love of a lifetime. I tell myself to hold on.
Hold on, Juliet.
I pour myself into my work, writing a fifteen-thousand-word account of my time in Nome, my experiences with the dogs, and my impressions—as a veterinary professional—about sled dog racing, in general. It’s the one bright spot of my life since returning to Minnesota: that the fruits of this fellowship are ripe and sweet. My study is good. Empirically good. I’m certain of it.
Rushing to my next-to-last session with Dr. Grant and excited to share my final draft of the study, I slip on the newly waxed floor of the Veterinary Medical Center and fall. My laptop bag, which wasn’t securely closed, slides down the hallway like a hockey puck on ice, and my printed paper, moments ago in painstaking chronological order, flies about the corridor in haphazard chaos.
A perfect visual analogy for my life right now: Everything is a mess since I returned from Nome.
Two students walking down the hall from the other direction rush to help me gather everything together.
“Thank you,” I say, shoving the laptop back in my bag and taking the messy collection of papers from them.
“Your knee is bleeding,” points out one of the students.
“Oooo.” Her friend cringes. “Better cl
ean that.”
“I will,” I say, mustering a small smile. “Thanks again.”
Limping to Dr. Grant’s office, I knock on the door with my elbow. When she opens the door, I don’t look up immediately. I rush into the office and plop down on the nearest couch with my handful of papers.
“I’m sorry I’m late,” I say. “I dropped my laptop and my notes went everywhere and—”
“Juliet,” she says.
I look up to find Professor Steinbuck standing beside her, the shadow of a smirk on his face as he takes in my flustered appearance. Unintentionally, I find myself flick a glance at his nose, which looks fine a month after Cody broke it. My heart clenches at the thought of Cody, although I do feel a small burst of satisfaction remembering the incident.
“What’s going on?” I ask.
“I’m going on medical leave.” Dr. Grant lowers her hands to her abdomen. “I had pre-eclampsia during my first pregnancy and have decided to take it easy during this one.”
“Oh,” I murmur, my eyes resting on her flat stomach for a second. “Congratulations. I didn’t know you were expecting.”
“In my absence, Glenn will be taking over my students as faculty advisor.” She holds up her hands, anticipating pushback from me. “I know you two have history, but Glenn’s insisting you can work it out. I’d hate for you to have to start over with a third faculty advisor this year. Especially so close to the end of your study.”
“I’m sorry,” I say, glancing at Glenn for a second before shifting my eyes back to Dr. Grant, “but I would, actually, prefer someone else.”
“Juliet,” Glenn says, “things got blown out of proportion. Let’s just finish up the year, huh?”
I ignore him, focusing on Dr. Grant. “I don’t know if you know this, but my boyfriend broke Professor Steinbuck’s nose last month. I really don’t think it’s appropriate for us to work together.”
“Glenn broke his nose skiing,” says Dr. Grant, looking back and forth between us.
“Is that what you told everyone?” I ask, skewering Steinfuck with a glare.
And what a smooth liar he is: “Of course that’s what I told everyone, Juliet. The truth.”
“The truth?” I say, my eyes popping out of my skull. “The truth is that you were my advisor for exactly five days before we started sleeping together, which continued for three weeks before I realized we weren’t in an exclusive relationship. I left Minnesota for Alaska asking for a faculty advisor change, which I got. But that wasn’t enough for you. You tried to meddle in my project unsuccessfully, tracked me down in Alaska, insulted my boyfriend at his home, got your nose broken—which I, for one, think you deserved—and now this? Why, Glenn? Why can’t you leave me alone?”