Chapter 4
Rory
The butterflies have been fluttering inside me so long that I’m bordering on nausea. Between the text from Nate, the smell of wet dog permeating the hallway, and the impending meeting with Dominic, I’m glad I didn’t eat breakfast because it would be all over the floor right now.
The dog nearest me looks like he can see my inner turmoil.
“It’ll be weird, won’t it? What do you think?” I stick my finger through the metal of the cage as I talk to the miniature pinscher.
He licks my finger but doesn’t offer any wisdom.
I’m outside Dominic’s office, waiting to meet with him and amusing myself by playing with the little dogs whose crates line the hallway.
This shelter is overcrowded. The dogs need bigger spaces to move around, and we need the hallway space, but we’re all doing the best we can with limited resources.
Whispering, I continue confiding in the dog, who looks like he’s hanging on my every word.
Or excited to have attention. One of those things.
“The thing is, Spam, we dated in high school. I thought he was The One back when we were all hot and heavy during junior year. But no one meets their soulmate at fifteen, right?”
He nudges my finger with his nose.
“So I broke up with him right before graduation. We both had dreams, and I wanted him to follow his, not mine. I was trying to do the right thing. But he was so upset. He should be pretending I don’t exist, not asking me to stay with him while I’m in town.
” I pull my hand back, and the dog lets out a little yip, realizing he’s not getting a treat.
“Do you think he’s gotten over it? Maybe he wants to be friends now. ”
Dominic’s door is still closed. I feel like I’m awaiting trial or something. Nothing about this situation feels like it will have a happy ending. It’s like I’m on death row here.
Okay, that may be a touch dramatic, especially since some of the animals here really are bound for euthanasia if they don’t get adopted.
“Not you, though,” I whisper to my friend.
He’s adorable. Someone will take him home.
The door creaks as it opens, and Dominic’s face peers out. His hair seems to have more gray than the last time I talked with him just a week ago, his face more lined.
“Come on in, Rory,” he says.
I sit in one of the two folding chairs in front of the desk while Dominic sits behind the desk. His chair isn’t much better than the cheap one I’m sitting in. I hope it doesn’t collapse on me.
“Rory, we’ve loved having you work here at the shelter for the past few years,” he starts, and I nod as I try to read between the lines. “You’ve been an asset to the staff. This is rarely the job anyone envisions settling into, but you’ve made it yours.”
Maybe it’s not bad. I let myself hope for a minute. Maybe there’s a raise, or a promotion, or—
“That’s why I feel terrible that we have to let you go.”
Or that.
My heart drops as I realize that yes, this is the worst-case scenario that could come of this little meeting.
I can’t stop nodding now, my head moving practically of its own accord while I press my lips into a thin line.
Don’t fucking cry, Rory. You’re better than that.
But between the job and the boyfriend, it feels like I’m losing everything in one fell swoop.
“If we could keep you on, you know we would. But we’re facing budget cuts, and things were tight as it was. It’s not just staff, either. We’re having to put down more dogs than we expected because we don’t have space to care for them.”
I snap my gaze up to his. “What?”
Dominic looks tired, his eyebrows pinched together into a line of worry. “Some of the dogs, especially the small ones. You know we get so many of those, and they just don’t get adopted as often. This is a tough situation for all of us. I’m sorry, Rory. I wish it were different.”
“How long… When would… When is my last day?” I manage to get out, my voice cracking. Tears prick at my eyes.
“Today is the last day we can pay you, Rory. Again, I’m so sorry.” Dominic puts his hands on the desk to stand.
My apartment is paid through the end of the month, but that’s only a few days from now. I’ll have to find a new job quickly if I want to make my rent payment.
As much as this wasn’t the job I pictured when I was planning my future, there are plenty of things I’ll miss. Playing with the dogs, especially. I picture the big eyes of the miniature pinscher I was talking to outside Dominic’s office.
“Which dogs?”
Dominic pauses halfway to the door. “Pardon?”
I swallow hard, standing to face him. The chair folds on itself, and I pause to fix it. “Which dogs are scheduled to be put down?”
He frowns. “I’ll have to look at the list to make sure. Why?”
I walk past him into the hallway and point to my new best friend. “Him?”
“I think so. Why?” Dominic’s brow furrows.
“Can I take him?”
This is one of the shittier days of my life, but I’ve had worse. I lost my job, I have no idea where my next paycheck is coming from or how I’m going to afford my rent, and I’m once again single, but Spam is making things feel a little better.
Or maybe I’ve just hit rock bottom, and now there’s nowhere to go but up.
“I think you’re worth it, Spam,” I say to the miniature pinscher.
He’s perched in the front seat of my truck, a shiny new collar around his neck.
I’ll have to sneak him into the apartment—technically, we can have pets, but only if we pay a pet deposit, and that’s three hundred dollars I don’t have, especially after I spent almost a hundred on supplies and dog food at the pet store.
But Spam will behave. I know he will. It’ll be fine.
And for once, something in my life actually works out. In the first few hours in his new home, Spam is the picture of obedience. He knows how to sit on command, and he only had one accident, but the pee was confined to the kitchen, so it doesn’t really count.
He doesn’t bark, either. Only a little, when someone opens the door. Or when he wants attention. Like when my roommate, Moira, pushes open the door and Spam greets her with a series of high-pitched yips. It’s adorable.
In retrospect, I probably should have warned her about the dog. But then, in the context of my life falling apart, that didn’t seem so important.
“Why is there a dog in our apartment?” she asks, her focus narrowed on me.
I give her my most charming smile. “Hi! How was your day?”
Moira and I met through mutual friends, both of us looking to share an apartment to cut down on costs.
We’re polar opposites and mostly just tolerate one another.
We don’t have that roommate bond or whatever some people seem to have.
She spends most of her time at her boyfriend’s place, though, so it works out well for both of us.
“Rory. The dog.” Moira is in a special kind of mood tonight. Actually, this is kind of her baseline. Prim and proper and borderline bitchy.
“He’s mine,” I admit. “But he’s really well-behaved. And I’ll make sure he doesn’t pee in the apartment. I’ll take him with me when I go up to High Lonesome, anyway.”
“He’s chewing the carpet,” Moira observes, deadpan.
“Spam! No. Toys are for chewing. Not carpets.” I pick him up and turn him in the direction of a plush football, which he grips with his teeth and begins to shred.
There’s only a little hole in the carpet, but I cringe. I can’t really afford to pay for that, but maybe we can fix it, and no one will know.
Moira looks like she’s counting in her head, something she does to keep from losing her shit when she’s really pissed off. She’s a preschool aide, and she’s told me she uses this technique to deal with the kids.
After almost a minute, she lets out a sharp breath and changes the subject. “Anyway, the dog isn’t that big of a deal. I have to talk to you about something else.”
Spam has gotten himself onto the couch and is burrowing under the throw pillows. This apartment came fully furnished, which was a key selling point, but it means none of this is mine, and I can’t let Spam destroy it.
I remove Spam from the couch and place him back on the floor as I take his place on the sofa. “Yeah? What’s up?”
Moira sits at the small dining table in the living room-slash-kitchen. It’s all one big room, but it’s furnished in a way that makes the spaces feel separate. “I’m moving in with Alan.”
Her boyfriend’s name is Alan. He’s an actuary. I’d never heard of that until I met him, but apparently, he just does math all day long.
There’s a pang of jealousy—not that I want Alan, even though he’s a nice enough guy, but more that I want what she has. Love. Happiness. Stability.
“When?”
Moira looks away. “Next month.”
My stomach drops. Next month is in three days. Without a roommate to split the rent, I can’t afford this place. And there’s no way I’ll find someone to take over her half in that amount of time.
“I…” I lick my lips, trying to find the right words. It’s not Moira’s fault that she’s in a relationship and moving forward in her life. “I’m happy for you.”
I am happy for her. But the number of things stacked against me is overwhelming.
I don’t have a job.
I don’t have a boyfriend.
And now I don’t have a place to live.
The only real bright spot here is that with the month-to-month lease, I’m not locked into keeping this place after Moira moves out.
Spam lets out a yip, and I focus on my little guy. It may have been impulsive to bring him home, but maybe that’s what I need in my life. Spontaneity. A little less thinking, a little more doing.
It’s how Allie has always gone through life, and things have worked out for her so far.
My life may be going to shit, but that also means I have nothing left to lose.
I’ve always done what was best for other people, even if it meant putting myself second.
A rush of something unfamiliar goes through me. Excitement, maybe. Freedom.
Possibility.
“You know what, Moira?” I say, standing up. “This is going to work out perfectly.”