Robert stared at the blood on his hands. Bright red and glistening, he stared at his hands, trembling.
What's wrong with me? It must be shock. He thought, but unbidden, he remembered the memories that he had forgotten.
He grew up in a typical home. A big house with white picket fences and a station wagon in the driveway. He played soccer, well enough to go for the State Champions. His mother always had a plate of cookies waiting for him. His dog Chassie would be in the backyard, racing around eagerly, waiting for him to change out of uniform and play with him.
Why am I crying? Thought Robert. Why would I think of mom, now? I had a happy childhood. Why do I feel so sad?
He remembered coming home after one of his games. His father was deathly silent in the car. Robert remembered being terrified but couldn't recall why.
"Daddy!" Shelly screamed, as she ran out of the house and into the driveway, where he was still stooped by Sparky. "Daddy!" she sobbed as she stopped short and saw the blood on his hands, and the blood on the tires of the car.
"Go back into the house!" he commanded, in a voice that was not his own. Shelly didn't obey, instead she stood there, staring at Sparky, as the light from his eyes dimmed, and he stared sightlessly at her. A whimper caught in his throat.
Diane came out and saw Sparky, "oh my god! Robert?" But he couldn’t answer. She noticed their daughter standing shock still, her face stricken, and ushered her back into the house.
Robert was grateful for his wife. He never wanted his little girl to see death, especially in such a gruesome way. He was just pulling into the driveway, when Sparky wriggled loose from his chain, and raced across. He never had a chance.
He looked down at Sparky, and for a moment, thought he saw Chassie's golden silky fur, bloody and matted.
Ridiculous, he thought. Chassie disappeared when I was twelve. Right after the State Championships. But the thought of the game caused his heart to race in panic. Odd, he thought, I haven't thought of this in years. Why now? Robert attributed it to the stress of the situation.
Wearily, he went into the shed to get out a shovel to bury Sparky. The sooner he got this done, the sooner he could go inside and sooth poor Shelly. Maybe we'll have some kind of service, thought Robert. He couldn’t get Shelly's face from his mind.
But as he rummaged through the shed for the shovel, he thought of that drive. After the Championship game. His team had lost, but only by one score. His father, like all other times when he perceived any failures in Robert, was stony.
"I'm disappointed in you Robbie," he said finally.
"But Dad, it wasn't my fault! I caught the…"
"You should have done more. You should have practiced! How many times did I tell you? Practice! Practice! Practice!"
Miserably, he tried to make himself as small as possible in the car. He wanted to cry, but knew that it would just infuriate his father more. He bit his lip and stared out the window. Once they pulled into the garage, he ran out of the car, and into his room. He heard his father downstairs, telling his mother what a failure Robbie was. He didn't hear his mother pacifying him, but it didn’t matter. Robbie changed out of his uniform and into the backyard where Chassie waited patently for him.
"Are you alright?" asked Diane, "what happened?"
"How's Shelly?"
"She's crying in her room, but I think she's calmer now."
"I'm so sorry. I'll go up and talk to her…"
"Are you all right?" Diane asked again, taking in the terrible look on Robert's face. He was pale and pasty, and his whole body was trembling.
"I just pulled in, and Sparky…"
"Shhh…it's OK darling," she replied, "Shelly will understand."
"No, she won't. I never liked Sparky and she…"
"Shhh…she'll understand. It was an accident. Sparky always gets loose from his chain."
"But…"
"Why don’t you come inside? It's getting dark. Have some coffee first."
"No, I want to get this done," he said, patting her on the shoulder gratefully, "I'll be in, in a minute." Diane stood there for another moment, before she nodded and went inside to check on Shelly.
Robert was glad to be left alone again.
He went to pick up Sparky's body, and carried him to the backyard next to the trees. The cool evening sky seemed so familiar.
"Dammit Robbie! Are you crying again?"
Chassie was on his chest, licking away his tears.
"Dammit dog, get off of him. Robbie, are you crying?"
Robbie shook his head, not daring himself to speak. His father looked at him in disgust.
"This is why you didn't win the Championships today. You're too soft! I knew I shouldn’t have ever gotten that damned dog for you."
"But Dad, Chassie is…" he tried to say, but his father just cut him off impatiently.
"There's no 'buts' about it. I told you once before that I didn't like that dog. What kind of name is 'Chassie', anyway? It's time you grew out of this kind of nonsense! I'm getting rid of that dog!"
"No Dad! No!" he screamed. His mother came to the back door and looked at him sadly. His father grabbed him by the arm and dragged him inside. Chassie sat by the door, looking at them with confusion.
"Mom! Please! Mom, you can't let him! You gotta help me, mom!" he cried. His mom just sadly shook her head, and tried to lead him to the kitchen. He pulled away at her, but then his dad came down the stairs, his shotgun in hand.
"NO! Dad! Please! No! We can give her up! Please Dad! Please!"
He looked down on Robbie's tear streaked face, "no, son. You know she always comes back. It's time for you to grow up. Now go with your mother."
Robbie fell on his knees, clutching his father's leg, pleading and crying. Gently, his mother pried him away, before his father's waning patience would cause him to kick Robbie away from him.
"Why Mom? Why?"
"Well, Robbie..." she began her eyes tired and unable to explain to her young son, all that his father had suffered. Instead she just hugged him, "you remember the movie that we watched, 'The Yearling', don't you?"
"But Chassie doesn't destroy anything! She so good! Why Mom? Why?" And he sobbed until the crack of the shotgun ran out in the silence of the night.
Robert stared at the now dry blood on his hands, and the cool breeze of the evening, dried the tears in his eyes as he remembered the memories that he had not allowed himself to recall. In the silence of the twilight, he dug the hole, each shovel full an echo of the hole his father made him dig, so many years before.
The ground was hard, and rocky. His hands, unused to such labor were painful and felt swollen. Robert ignored all of this, as he thought of the childhood he never remembered. He had never let himself think beyond the smell of cinnamon on his mother's apron, and playing with his friends.
When at last the hole was big and deep enough, Robert picked up Sparky's stiff body, and gently put it in the hole. As the stars twinkled above, he filled the hole back up, with each shovel full, he said a silent apology.
"Aren't you done yet Robbie?" called out his father, disapprovingly. He heard his mother murmur something, and the rumbling of his father's reply, but he didn't call out to Robbie again.
"I'm so sorry Chassie," said a tear-less Robbie, "I'm so very sorry Chassie." He had the feeling that he should say something, some kind of prayer, but his mind drew a blank. Besides, he didn't have much faith that God was listening. If there was one. He just knelt down, and cried until he could cry no longer.
Robert covered his face. He let the tears fall for his lost childhood and his lost self, mourning for something he never knew he lost. When at last he couldn't cry any longer; when the pain in his heart could not stand anymore, he closed his eyes, and felt the ache grow in magnitude until he was ready to burst. His life was a sham! His memories, his childhood! How often has he pulled away? How often has he kept everyone at a distance? And never knew why? He even hated Sparky, that poor dog. All this time! He never knew! The ache grew until it surpassed the flame of anger. He never knew!
"Robert?" called out Diane, "Robert? Are you all right?"
He opened his eyes. "Yes dear, I'm just about done." Getting up, and wiping the dirt from his hands, he was surprised to notice how wet they were. Have I been crying? He wondered. And for such an annoying, yappy dog. While he wasn't entirely happy about Sparky's death, he wasn't sad either. It was just a dog. He tried to remember why he was thinking of that soccer game, so long ago. That's when Chassie disappeared, he thought. It's funny how the mind works.
He went inside, giving his wife a kiss on the way to the bathroom; he noticed the bronze red stain on his hands and shirt. For a moment, he felt a twinge and the onset of emptiness, before the smell of dinner urged him to hurry up.
As the dried blood and dirt swirled away, down the sink, Robert's world was right once again, with the memories that would not allow him to feel any more sorrow.