Untitled Short Story (Rough Draft. Read. Enjoy.)

I
John left his house at 9. Dinner was to commence at 8. He was running late and didn't have a number to call to notify the hosting party. John overslept after falling asleep on the couch watching a show on natural wonders.

"I always do this. I'm always late. No matter what I do, it manages to happen."

He decided to take a smaller road to his destination in hopes of saving time. The road was very dark, with deep ditches that outlined it. John never understood how one could drive in such conditions. In the city, light posts hang over the heads of all, shining light that reveals the doings of everyone. Without his high beams, John wouldn't know if he was about to drive off the edge of the earth or not. He did see one car ahead of him though. It was about a mile and a half away. With it in sight, John felt more secure.

After 20 minutes, John relaxed. He was late and there was nothing he could do about it. He would arrive in 10 minutes and simply explain. The family he was going to see would understand. It was over 10 years since he saw them. Richard and his wife Donna--they were like uncle and aunt. Then there was their daughter Heather, who was only about six or seven at the time. She was always excited to see John, and he'd play with her as often as he could. As vague as the memory of his childhood was, even more unclear was the reason behind being invited to have dinner with a family he hasn't seen in so long. He didn't even quite remember how it all began; John just knew he was driving through the pitch-black sky late night on his tardy way to see people from his past.

Just before he could question it much longer, he noticed the car in the distance begin to brake. John made note of where about the car was and decided to approach the same spot prudently. As he came near, John saw a flash in the night air. It was the whites of the eyes of some animal. Breaking, it was clear to John that something very big was in the middle of the road. Little by little, the animal began to take shape. What was once a blank patch was now a living thing with fur, a black nose, wide eyes, and a broad chest. What struck John the most about the deer in the middle of the road was its inability to move. Its broken legs left it helpless, and as John drove around it, he could see it in its eyes.

John pulled over.

"There must be something I can do. I can't just leave it there to get hit. There must be someone I can call to come take care of this."

John, too, began to feel helpless. He slowly began to detach himself from the situation though. Although sad, he realized that it would be rather easy to simply drive away and not worry about the fate of the deer in the middle of the road. It then occurred to him that he could shoot the deer. It also occurred to him that he had never been responsible for the death of anything bigger than a fly. John began struggling with the notion of whether or not he could come to pulling the trigger. Could he spare the deer's pain at the cost of knowing he had taken the life of a living creature the size of a deer. For some reason, size played a major role in the weight of killing something. Ever since reading George Orwell's essay Shooting an Elephant, John looked slightly different toward animals of size. Shooting a giraffe was nothing like shooting a lizard to John. As irrational as it might seem, John would base a decision on size if all other things were equal.

But here, in the middle of the road, so late at night, it was just John and the deer. There was no choice other than leaving the deer as it was or ending its life. It was then that John realized that either shooting the deer or beating it to death would mean having to go back home to change clothes. In either case, John decided not to be any more late than he already was. And with that, he drove away.

II
Shortly after ringing the doorbell, John was greeted by Donna at the door. She had a smile on her face and invited him in. The TV was rather loud and everyone was gathered around the living room. John noticed that the kitchen table was clear as if it would be of no use for the remainder of the evening.

"We realized you didn't have any way of contacting us in case of an emergency. At about 30 past we decided that you weren't going to make it and ate. I hope you don't mind, but we had the food prepared and it was getting late."

Donna said this in the sweetest of tones, almost as if she was asking for forgiveness.

"I don't mind at all," John said. "I have no legitimate excuse for my tardiness and I wouldn't expect that you'd wait for me. I really am sorry for not getting here on time; I hope I haven't caused any inconvenience."

"Not at all," Richard said. "We're just glad you made it safely. Have a seat and let's catch up."

Something John noticed was the size of the house. It was very small, and any space available to sit seemed like the last of its kind. After sitting on the end of the small sofa, John looked around and noticed all the pictures on the wall. Before he could peruse much longer, Donna spoke up.

"So, John, tell us what you've been up to."

John proceeded to tell both Rich and Donna how he just graduated from college and was going to continue his education. He retraced his life starting just after moving from the neighborhood and noted the details he found most impressive.

"We talked to your aunt the other day after running into her at the store. We asked about you and she filled us in a little. We were so happy to hear that you made it out of here and did something positive with your life. We knew you'd go places."

The conversation shifted to what Donna and Rich had been doing for the past 10 years. They talked for a little less than an hour. That's when John noticed a picture of Heather on the wall.

"Is that Heather?"

"Yes. Those are her senior pictures. She graduates in a month and has her college picked out already. We celebrated her 18th birthday in December. She's done so well; we're very proud of her."

John hadn't seen Heather in over 10 years. When looking at her picture, there was a sense of recollection--there was a gathering of memories, but at the same time, John was looking at Heather for the first time all over again. She looked the same, but now she was a young woman.

"She's very pretty. I'm glad she's doing well. Where is she now?"

"She should be home any minute. She met with a study group tonight for her finals. She knows you're coming and told us to tell you to wait for her."

And just as John finished whispering, "I'll wait for her" in his head, Heather walked through the door.

III
"John!" Heather said, full of energy. She put her books down on the floor and rushed over to him with her arms wide open.

"Hey!" John replied, not sure how comfortable he was with the embrace that was about to happen.

"How was dinner? Sorry I was late, but I had a big test to study for."

"Well, I got here pretty late, so dinner was skipped. I'm glad I got a chance to see you though."

"Yeah, I knew you were coming, so I rushed home."

Rich asked everyone to sit back down, as if John just arrived all over again. Heather asked the same questions Donna asked and John politely repeated, briefly, the main points of his life since he last saw them. As John was talking, Donna exited the room, not excusing herself. She reentered shortly after with a book she was intent on showing John.

"Oh, she brought the photo album; go ahead and show him mom," Heather said with enthusiasm.

Donna worked her way through the photo album. She took out a photo of John and Heather when they were younger. Heather was chasing him with a plastic bat and they both had glowing smiles.

"I don't think you remember this day or much of that time, but you and Heather were good friends," Donna said.

"I remember John a lot," Heather said. "He was always fun and I always looked forward to seeing him."

"I don't recall a whole lot from that time. I remember that yard though. It's bigger in my memories, but in this picture it seems so small. A lot of things seem that way when we look so far back I suppose."

John was starting to feel more and more comfortable with the family. They stayed up for a little while longer, then Rich, who was falling asleep on the couch, decided to head off to bed. John asked if he was keeping them up, but was quickly reassured that he was causing no burden.


IV
"These are some pictures from my recent trip to Cancun," Heather said, as she pointed to her computer screen. Donna asked Heather to give John a tour of the house while she finished cleaning up in the kitchen. John found himself in Heather's bedroom going through an assortment of memorabilia and other items of value to Heather.

"I also went to Spain for a summer and took a course in Spanish. Here I am with my friends in Madrid," Heather said with a smile.

"That's great. It's seems like you've done so much. I'm happy to see you're doing okay."

"Yeah, a lot's happened in 10 years. But I never forgot you, John."

"Really? That's sweet of you. But let me ask you something. What made me so memorable? We never really got a chance to do much growing up together. We only did so much and spent so much time together."

"I know. And to be honest, I don't really remember many details, but I guess I can tell you why I remember you so well." Heather giggled. Her giddy eyes revealed she was about to divulge something embarrassing. "You were the first boy I had a crush on. I don't really remember how I felt exactly, but I knew I liked you in ways I didn't like other boys. You know, it was one of those things--a young heart growing fond of another overnight. Childish, yes, but we were children, so . . . ."

"I know what you mean," John said. "You were a cute little girl and I enjoyed my time with you. But I guess we got away from each other, eh?" John smiled.

"Yeah, if only we could chase each other around the same way now."

"With a bat and everything?"

"Why not. Might as well put you in your place before we say anymore," Heather said as she laughed. "But all joking aside, I'm glad you came today because I've been wanting to tell you these things for a long time."

"What things?"

"Just that I remembered you all this time and that I liked you. For no good reason though; I just thought you'd like to know."

"Well, I'm glad I came over too. It was nice of you to open up to me about those things."

"I was a little nervous about it, but I figured we go so far back, if there's anyone I can talk to after meeting an hour prior, it would be someone I chased around with a bat 10 years ago."

"This is true."

John and Heather stayed up and talked about the details of their lives. Donna came upstairs to let them know she was off to bed and asked Heather to see him out when we were done talking. It was now past 3am and almost every minute of the 10 years lost was made up.

"I don't want to be presumptuous, but I'm really enjoying my time with you tonight. How about we meet again for a movie or something?" John asked.

"Of course. I'd like that."

And with that, John and Heather would meet in the future.


V
John took the same road home. He felt warm inside over meeting Heather. She was a great girl and if it wasn't for a few simple play dates as kids, he might not have had the chance to ever know her. John was already looking forward to the next time he'd see her. With a gleam in his eye, John's train of thought was broken by the recognition of the stretch of highway he passed earlier that night. It was just ahead that the deer he left behind to die was resting. As he got to the spot, he noticed that the deer was now on the side of the road. He pulled over again and rolled his window down. He stuck his ear out in an attempt to hear any kind of movement, but there was none. John was convinced that the deer was dead, that is, until it looked up at him. John was again faced with the same dilemma. The situation was even worse now that he knew exactly how long the deer was helpless there in agony.

John was not indifferent. He considered his options. He struggled in deciding what he ought to do. It boiled down to courage. John convinced himself that leaving the deer behind to die a slow and painful death was not the best thing to do. Killing it would be what was right. Now all John had to do was find the courage to do it. He sat in his car for over 10 minutes, then drove away.

Two weeks later, John met Heather for lunch. He thought about telling his story about the deer to her, but felt ashamed of himself. If anything, John needed to be consoled, as his guilt was persistent. For their next few meetings, however, John never spoke a word of it.


VI
With more passing weeks, John and Heather continued to get closer. Their lunches became picnics, and their picnics became dinners. Little by little, the two were dating, and neither one of them had a problem with it.

"We've come a long way these past few weeks, haven't we?" John said as the candlelight flickered. "You know you've come a long way if you're about to share dessert with someone with a candle burning between the two of you."

John chuckled.

"Indeed. And how about that dinner? I don't know if I've ever ate a steak that fast in front of anyone before."

"Yeah, you seemed pretty hungry." John's eyes tracked the waitress as she weaved her way through tables and chairs with their dessert. "Here it comes."

"Strawberry cheesecake?"

"That's mine," Heather said.

"Double fudge cheesecake?"

"That's me," John said.

"And Reese's Peanut Butter Cup cheesecake."

"That's for both of us," John said smiling.

"Ok, looks like you two have some work to do. Enjoy," the waitress said as she laid the third plate down at the edge of the table.

The two dug in. There was no shame in their gluttony. Half way through each of their respective pieces, Heather asked if John was ready to try the third.

"I'm ready when you are," he said.

"Here you go; I'll let you do the honors. Try it out for both of us." Heather cut a big piece off with her fork, which was covered in strawberry cheesecake, and fed it to John. With his mouth full, John rolled his eyes back and reclined in his chair, as to suggest he was experiencing pure bliss.

"Good, eh?" Heather laughed and cut a piece for herself.

The two carried on this way until their plates were clean. They sat in silence for a moment afterward, relishing the moment. John looked over at Heather and saw her with her eyes closed and sporting a smile that was reminiscent of their childhood. He got up from his seat and joined her on her side. He squeezed in next to her, and she smiled. The two didn't say anything for some time. Then, John said what was on his mind.

"Heather?"

"Mmmhmm."

"Is it just me or does all this seem right to you?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you know that expression, right? When something 'seems right.' That's what I mean. You and me. This. The past few weeks. Our childhood. And possibly whatever time we'll spend together in the future."

"I know what you meant, John. I was just stalling. I guess I feel the same way, but I didn't know how to come out and say it. I didn't know if I wanted to say it. I was just glad that things were happening as they were. Know what I mean?"

"I do."

"I guess I didn't want to bring it up right before I moved. I know I'm not moving far, but it's far enough that we won't get to see each other as often. I didn't want to break or stray from the good times we were having because I wasn't sure how things would be once we moved."

"You guys will just be another 45 minutes away. It's a bit of a drive, but not far enough to keep us from seeing each other if we really wanted to."

"I know. I guess we'll just do what we've been doing. It's working, right?"

"Yeah. I just wanted you to know how I felt. I was having a good time with you and felt like saying it. So let's keep up the good work, eh?" John smiled.

"No dispute here." Heather leaned over and placed her head on John's shoulder. This was the first time they made any significant contact with each other since their hug the night the two met again. John felt closer to her than ever before. The two stayed this way for over an hour until the waitress asked them if they wouldn't mind giving up their seats to other guests. John and Heather put their coats on, and almost in a disoriented fashion, left the restaurant.

"John?"

"Mmmhmm."

"What are you doing tomorrow?" Heather asked. Her breath was seen in the cold air and she shook slightly in her coat. Her tone was a bit more serious.

"Nothing important. Why?"

"I want you to come by tomorrow." It was apparent that Heather was in a different mood.

"Okay. Is something wrong?"

"No. But, tomorrow . . . . I'm just going to need someone to talk to tomorrow. We're moving in a few days and I'm going through some things. It'd be nice to have you around."

"Sure. No problem. But, are you sure you're okay. You seem . . . I don't know. It seems like something's wrong."

"I know. It will make more sense tomorrow. But don't worry; I'm fine. It's just rough sometimes, you know? I've lived in that house for so long and it's just awkward having to walk away from it. I'm having to walk away from a lot of things."

"I understand. Well, I'll be there. Don't you worry."

"Okay. Thanks, John. Come by around 3. I should be done with some things by then. You can stay for dinner and I'll try to talk to you about this a little more then. Is that alright?"

"Of course." John reached for her and brought her in. His hug didn't seem well received though, as if a hug wasn't good enough to placate the worries that whirled in Heather's mind. It was a bit awkward for a moment, then John said goodbye.

VII
On the way home, John felt uneasy about the last moments he spent with Heather. He didn't understand how the whole night could have gone so perfectly, then turn around in the closing minutes. He knew everything was fine, but still felt like maybe he didn't know Heather as well as he thought. He never saw her without a smile, and she was always full of cheer. Their relationship was so smooth, so when the idea of a potential problem was introduced, it seemed so foreign to him.

John decided to call Heather when he got home. He would call first to see if she arrived home safely, then try to reassure himself that Heather would be fine. On the way home, however, John passed the site where the deer was left. It was no longer there; only stained concrete remained. John imagined the blood on the floor being on himself and had a hard time stomaching the idea. It was over now though.

When John got home, he called Heather. She answered the house phone and was surprised to hear John's voice.

"It's kinda late, John."

"I know, but I just wanted to make sure you got home safely."

"You've never called before."

John was taken back by her detached attitude.

"Well, is it a problem that I called tonight? Am I bothering you or something?"

"No, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that. I guess I just didn't expect to hear from you tonight."

"I know, you kinda freaked me out earlier as we said goodbye. I was left a little uncomfortable."

"I didn't mean to make you worry. Some things hit me as we sat together after dinner. I was so comfortable with my head on your shoulder, my mind started wondering. I got to thinking about everything surrounding me and everything I'd have to face in the coming weeks. It wasn't you or anything."

"I never thought it was me. We were having such a good time though, and next thing I know, you're in this new skin and I didn't know exactly how to respond to you."

"Well, like I said, I was thinking about things." Heather's tone is bordering agitated. "I hope you understand, John."

"I do. I do. Sorry if I'm making you think about this more."

"It's okay. I'd like to get some rest now though. Tomorrow is a big day. Rocky is coming home. He's been away for a few weeks, ill. We're not sure how long he has and how he's going to take the move."

"Rocky?"

"Yeah, you don't remember Rocky?"

"No."

"You will tomorrow. I gotta go now though, I'm really exhausted."

John was stunned by the mention of another person's name. He didn't remember any Rocky and sure didn't like the idea of Rocky "coming home." John was confused, but sensed that prolonging the conversation any further would just irritate Heather.

"Okay. Have a goodnight, Heather dear."

"Thanks. You too. Bye."

John took his coat off and sat on his sofa. A desk lamp illuminated a corner of the room and only the low sound of the refrigerator running was heard. John's phone call made things worse. Not only did it not make him feel better about the way the night ended, it added a new element. Rocky. He'd have to wait the night out to meet this Rocky and figure out where he stood in things. And with that, John's picture of what was happening became blurred. In one night, he felt like he didn't know anything about Heather, and what's more, she wasn't really rushing to clear things up for him. What seemed right hours before, was being doubted as John laid his head down to sleep.

Final Part
John tossed and turn all night. He was over concerned. He had a tendency to over think things. The next morning was supposed to be filled with running errands, but John awoke at 1. He got up and decided to go to Heather's early. He put on a brand new pair of khaki pants and a light blue dress shirt. He rarely dressed up in any way, but he wanted to make a good impression. Not to mention, he would be meeting this Rocky character.

John took the outer road again. He drove slowly, as not to arrive earlier than he already was. He paid note to all the things he passed. It wasn't often that he took this route. A shoe store with a 15% off sale. A Sinclair station. A truck stop with a smoky cafe next to it. The booths were full of patrons and John could see himself and Heather sitting in one. They were eating cheesecake and laughing with their mouths full. They touched wine glasses and before they could share a kiss, John's eyes came back to the road in front of him. He sped up.

John arrived a little over an hour early. He didn't have a reason for this, but he didn't think he'd need one. The doorbell was rung. He then knocked on the door. There was a moment, then he rang the doorbell again. John put his head close to the door, as to have a better listen to the happenings inside. He thought he heard someone in distress. A moaning or even crying. He decided to enter on his own. Once the door opened, it was clear someone was crying. It was Donna. She was in the kitchen at the table. She was sitting up straight, holding in both of her hands a photo. It was a Polaroid. John approached slowly from behind and got a glimpse of it. It was a picture of Rocky. John's memory was coming back to him now. In the photo with Rocky was Heather. She never looked happier.

"Donna."

John startled her.

"Oh! John! When did you get here!? I didn't hear you come in."

"I know. I'm sorry. I rang, but no one answered and I heard you crying. What's wrong? Where's Heather?"

"She upstairs with Rocky. Do you remember Rocky, John?" She started crying again.

John then got a better look at the photo. There was a brief moment when the thought of Heather upstairs with another man broke him. But then he saw his image in the photo with Heather and Rocky. He appeared in the background eating ice cream. It was Heather's 10th birthday party and Rocky was the white Terrier she got as a gift. Any doubts about Heather were slowly fading.

"I do now. I do now. He was a great dog. Heather said he was coming home today. What's wrong with him?"

"He's sick. Our Rocky is sick. They said he only had a few more days. I knew he wouldn't be with us forever, but why now. Why now, John? We need him with us in our new house. We got the yard just for him and he'll never see it now. He'll never see it."

Donna's tears flowed heavily. John began to get teary-eyed.

"I'm sorry, Donna. Is there anything I can do?"

"No, John."

There was an awkward silence and the two looked at the puppy in the photo.

"Do you know what they wanted to do to him?" Donna asked in a state of disbelief. "They wanted to put him to sleep before we came to get him today. They weren't even going to tell us. Luckily we called. And that place is so horrible. You know how they put dogs down, don't you?"

"Yeah, I know."

"Scare the hell out of the dog, then make them suffer for however many seconds before they die. Not Rocky. I yelled at them and told them that he was coming home first and that we'd work it out on our own."

"Why would they make such a decision without consulting you though?"

"They don't know what they're doing, that's why. They said he's in too much pain. They said he was already suffering and that it was cruel to let him go on that way. But when I asked if he could make it any longer, they reluctantly said yes. So that's when I said I wanted him home while he was still with us."

"Maybe they were trying to spare him any more pain though. We don't really know how Rocky feels or what he's going through."

"Heather and I already went over it. We got it all figured out."

John was flashed with the horrible image of the deer struck in the middle of the road. How could he blame them for the same mistake he once made. He couldn't come to killing a deer he had no connection with, let alone a dog he grew up with.

"I understand, Donna. I guess I'd want as much time with Rocky before he left us too."

"We said our goodbyes already. That's all we wanted. That's all anyone could ask for."

John was confused.

"What's Heather doing upstairs?"

BANG! A piercing sound came from upstairs followed by a short scream. BANG! BANG! Two more from upstairs.

"Aaah!!!" Heather was heard screaming at the top of her lungs. Donna put her hands over her ears and started crying.

"What's going on?!" John asked.

"Moooom!!! Mother!!!" Heather screamed from upstairs.

Slow and heavy footsteps were heard coming down the stairs. John readied himself for the worst. Before John could get a look at Heather's face, he saw blood splattered all over Heather's pant legs. More and more blood was revealed as Heather made her slow descent down the stairs.

"Momma! He's gone, momma. Rocky's gone!" Heather was shaken up, crying off and on.

John couldn't believe his eyes. Heather was covered in blood, holding a gun.

"John? John. I didn't think I could do it, John. I didn't think I had the courage. I didn't think I could do it."

John couldn't take his eyes off the gun. He didn't know if he was worried he might get shot with it or if just the mere sight of it bothered him. When he looked up at Heather, her face was empty of all color. She was in a cold sweat and as a pale as a ghost. He didn't recognize her at all. She put the gun down on the floor and ran to him with her arms wide open. John did not know how to respond to the hug he was about to receive. When she let go, John looked down at his clothes, which were now also covered in blood. John looked back up at Heather, then at the gun on the floor, then Donna, then the photo of Rocky. Heather had killed her dog. She did something he couldn't do. She did the right thing. But all at the same time, John was horrified by the family he once thought he'd be a part of.

"How could you do that?! How could you kill that poor animal?!"

John stared at Heather and Donna in their blank, empty, and cold faces, then looked down at the gun, and left. John was convinced they were horrible people. People he could not come to ever seeing again. As he drove off in his car, John began to detach himself from the situation more and more. All he wanted to do was get home and change out of his bloody clothes.