The Day I Came Home

On the worst day of my life, my dog wasn’t waiting for me.

The night before, I sat at the dinner table alone after going out for a couple drinks after work. Even Charlie, my faithful Terrier, had disappeared after briefly greeting me at the door.

My dinner was cold, and dishes were in the sink. I hate it when dishes are in the sink.

On my plate was prime rib and potatoes. My favourite. Why had she made me my favourite on a random Tuesday? I pondered whether to warm it in the microwave and risk over cooking the meat but settled on having another beer.

Cold meat it was.

And where was she?

My head buzzed as I took a sip of the beer in front of me.

A small part of my mind suggested that I go find her, but that was immediately dismissed as there was a good chance I was going to get yelled at.

Why did she make me dinner and not call? If she really cared she’d call.

Whatever. If she didn’t care, I didn’t care.

Besides, I would have been earlier but somebody’s cat had been hit by a car causing a jam up. Not my fault.

I finished my meal and tossed my dishes onto the growing pile in the sink. I considered cleaning it all but then that small voice that insisted I go find her finally won out.

Not surprising, I found her in the bath. She had a glass of wine that was untouched. The ipad she usually watched reality TV on rested silently next to the wine.

Charlie laid next to the tub and made a point of not looking at me. Traitor.

She didn’t turn when I came in.

“Hey what are you up to?” I enquired. “That prime rib was fantastic. Thank you for making it.”

Silence.

I might be in more trouble than I thought.

Concerned, I walked around so she could see me and knelt down. Her eyes were closed and she didn’t move.

Wait. Something was wrong.

I touched her hand and received no response. More urgently now I pulled on her arm and called her name.

She responded by pulling her hand away and opening her eyes.

“Hey are you ok?” I asked gently.

She regarded me, but didn’t say anything. Her eyes were red and puffy like she’d been crying.

“Hey, what’s the matter. What happened?”

She pursed her lips and shook her head as more tears began to well up. She shuddered and sat up.

“Your dog needs to be fed.”

She didn’t even look at me. I stood there in silence for what felt like a long time. Since when was it “my dog”?

I wish I could say I had trouble sleeping that night. But the beer had made me tired from an already exhausting day. I was asleep before I could even think of something to say to her. Between me and Charlie, I’m sure somebody was snoring.

Beside me, she lay with her eyes open, staring at the ceiling.

____________________________________________________________________________

My alarm went off at 5:00 AM as usual, so I could get into work for 6:00 AM. Charlie was waiting at my side of the bed, already ready to go.

“Oh you’re a good boy aren’t ya. You wanna go to work for me? Maybe I’ll stay home today.”

I laughed and tussled the fur on his head. “Good boy Charlie.” He responded by licking my hand appreciatively. “Ok buddy, let’s do this.”

____________________________________________________________________________

I realized when I arrived that my shirt had a stain on it. When did that happen?

But I was troubled. Something wasn’t sitting right. I felt guilty about the night before, although I honestly believed my behaviour was justified.

But if that was true, why would I feel guilty?

I kept rolling this over in my mind. At my desk, I sat at the keyboard with fingers poised but I couldn’t focus. I was becoming more hyper aware of my body. My hands were clammy, I felt soft and out of shape.

When was the last time I exercised?

Wait. Where was my wedding ring? I sat up quickly looking frantically on my desk and on the floor. Did I take it off? Why would I take it off? Panicked, I ran my hand through my hair.

I must have taken it off at home. There’s no way it fell off. Right? Did I take it off at the bar last night? Did I really do that?

To my utter shame I did. We had met some girls and I was flirting.

What. The. Fuck. That is not who I was.

Exasperated, I kicked my chair back and went for a walk. I passed two colleagues in the kitchen. They looked terrible too. Why had I not noticed this before?

The door to the bathroom burst open and I found myself staring at my reflection. Who was that? I could tell it was me but really, who was that? I glanced at my hands and turned them over, noticing the slight tremor that had built up. Something was rising in my gut. It was a pressure that felt like a warmth spreading from my stomach up into my cheeks.

Something had shifted inside of me. It was strange but I somehow felt open. I saw myself in the mirror every day but today I really looked.

My shirt was rumpled and my tie looked out of place. My skin looked pale and my cheeks were puffy. Absently I grabbed a handful of midsection. There was no denying it. I had gotten soft. The person in the mirror looked haggard. When did this happen?

One of my work buddies came in just then and pulled up to the urinal.

“Hey we’re hitting up Cailie’s after work for some drinks with the guys from accounting. You in?”

I blinked.

I shook my head and more fog cleared.

My wife.

I couldn’t be here.

I bounded out of the washroom and flew down the halls. My pulse raced as I grabbed my coat. My body felt alive and my heart felt like it would burst.

I would make it up to her. I had to. I would quit. Or take time off.

My feet moved beneath me as I ran across the parkade. Half way to my truck I had to stop and walk. My breath was wheezing.

Okay I definitely needed to get healthy. I got up early anyways, I could just go to the gym.

I opened the door to my truck and jumped in. My suit jacket felt heavy and uncomfortable so I awkwardly flailed in my seat as I maneuvered it off and tossed it on the passenger seat.

The tires screeched as I pulled out of the parkade.

Luckily this time of day there was no traffic. I couldn’t get home fast enough. She would be so thrilled. I was going to change everything.

I called her number, breathless and excited to tell her I was coming home. It rang four times with no answer and eventually I hung up.

I felt a sense of childlike giddiness and I couldn’t help but whistle as I drove. This was going to be a great day.

I pulled into the garage and was out the door in a flash. Unfortunately my wife’s car was gone. She must be out for lunch or shopping or something. No matter, it gave me time to freshen up and surprise her.

Looking back I suppose my first clue was that Charlie wasn’t waiting for me when I opened the door.

That was strange. He usually is so excited he pees himself when I come home. It’s kind of my favourite thing.

“Charlie? Here, boy. Where are ya, ya rascal?”

I dropped my jacket and keys in the entryway and wandered into the living room.

It was too quiet. The hairs on the back of my neck raised as my body picked up that something was wrong before I did.

I made to step into the kitchen but then thought better of it. I wanted to change out of these clothes as fast as possible. They felt awful. Just a reminder of how blind I’d been.

I went into the bedroom and started stripping down. Wait a moment. Her book and her phone charger were gone from her bedside table. What the fuck is going on?

I passed through the bedroom into the closet and flipped the light switch and my mouth dropped.

I just stood there, completely unable to process what I was seeing, with my pants draped around my ankles.

The closet was empty. Well, half empty. Her side was completely bare. Not even hangars remained. Just a dusty shelf, and on it, two wedding rings, side by side.

I stared. Dumbfounded. My heart hammered in my chest. I felt a flush start in my chest and rise up into my cheeks. My hands flexed at my sides, clenching and unclenching. I felt pressure rising to the surface. All those emotions that I buried. Things I left unsaid. They rose to the surface faster than I could process and I just exploded.

I screamed. I threw things. I punched the dry wall. I called her names. I called me names.

It was ugly.

In the end I slumped against the wall and slid down to the floor like a dead body and just sat there, exhausted. Rage gave way to despair and alone in my closet I ugly cried in a way I had never done in my adult life.

At some point I must have passed out because I woke up staring sideways at the carpet. There was a split second where I felt confusion and then it all came crashing down on me.

She had left.

I pushed myself up and wiped my face. Snot and tears had dried leaving a crusty residue. My throat was so dry.

That I could address, so I dragged myself up off the floor to get some water. Actually if I’m honest the first thought that came to my mind was that I wanted a stiff drink.

I passed through my bedroom and the living room and entered the kitchen, which is how I learned why Charlie hadn’t greeted me.

I stood there in my underwear speechless for the second time that morning.

Charlie sat cowering in the corner. He was visibly shaking. The kitchen was in shambles. He had pulled the garbage open, and ripped the bag apart spewing rotten food and leftovers everywhere. He had then dragged these all over the kitchen floor leaving foul smelling residue everywhere. Plates had been pulled off the table and lay shattered on the floor and somewhere in the midst of that he had pissed everywhere.

There was a genuine moment where I felt compassion for him.

But the smell. I started to register the awful smell of piss and garbage and that same pressure built up in my chest. My fists clenched and I couldn’t contain it. I didn’t think I had that much rage left in me, but it seems I had accessed a depth of the soul I was previously unaware of.

“CHARLIE!” I barked. And then proceeded to scream profanities as I lunged for him. He jumped and ran around the island, clearly terrified. I slammed my hand on the counter and screamed again.

“GET OVER HERE YOU MUT!” I lunged again and caught just a hint of his tail. He leaped towards the door and in the process knocked over the plant in the corner. The noise of this caused him even more distress and he spewed diarrhea all over as he dashed into the living room.

This just enraged me further. I was beyond reproach and sprang after him. He darted to the door, trying to get outside and that’s where I caught him.

I grabbed by the scruff of the neck and screamed in his face.

“GET OUT. GET OUT!!!!”

Then with one hand I opened the door, and with the other I threw him outside.

Then I screamed. It was a raw, guttural cry, filled with something primal. Once again I punched the dry wall and probably would have kept punching it except that my hand hurt too badly.

Eventually I stood in the kitchen, careful not to step in anything awful. The smell was nauseating, but at least I could deal with this.

So that’s how I spent my afternoon. Instead of the loving reconnection I had imagined, I cleaned up garbage and piss and dog shit. I think the worst part was that I had no one to blame.

Bit by bit I made progress until at last, still in my underwear I stood in a kitchen fit for humans.

“Fuckin dog.” I muttered. I suppose I should go get him.

I opened the door and expected to see him waiting there ready to come in. But he wasn’t there.

“Charlie!” I called. “Charlie!” No answer.

Now I was legitimately worried. He always came. Did I scare him that badly?

I hurried into my room and threw on some clothes and subsequently found myself wandering up and down the neighbourhood.

No Charlie.

I was really starting to get worried. That combined with the guilt I was feeling was starting to tear me up inside. I wasn’t even thinking about what I would say to my wife.

The sun was beginning to set. It was actually a really nice evening. Calm and inviting. The perfect time for a walk with a loved one.

How many evenings had been just like this and I never even looked outside? The world felt incredibly present.

I was about to turn to head back to my house when something occurred to me. I hadn’t looked on the main road. But he’d never gone that far before. Could he have?

It was worth a look.

I walked up the road towards the four way stop. Just as I reached the top of the hill I saw it. A police car parked along the road, blocking traffic again.

I could see the officer standing on the sidewalk talking to a couple of other people. They were gesturing towards the road.

I stood rooted to the ground. I couldn’t. No. I just shook my head.

On the worst day of my life, my dog wasn’t waiting for me.