We Meet Again

Some days begin and end pretty much the same. You wake up either happy to have another day ahead, or not. These days it’s mostly not.   

It wasn’t always like this. I used to love being woken up by sound of the kettle beginning to boil. I knew that at any minute, my beloved would bring me a coffee and Rusty our kelpie, would jump on the bed, lay on her back and await her belly rub. It was all so simple and I didn’t know it. I would get frustrated at the amount of dog hair on the bed or complain that she needed a bath. What I wouldn’t give to be able to coax her into the bathroom with cat biscuits, tell her how good she is and cop the spray I would inevitably wear due to excessive head shakes. Even the water mess she left running to the back door wouldn’t bother me now.   

If she was here, Clare would be too. But she isn’t. And I continue to wake up every day wishing I didn’t.  

Some days do begin and end mostly the same. Then there are days that don’t and you are never the same again.  

Like the day we awoke to the horrid sound of Rusty yelping – screaming really. I instantly knew she had been run over – I heard car brakes followed by the sound of my loyal friend shrieking. My heart was beating so hard and my words wouldn’t form. Clare had been laying on her ‘good’ ear and didn’t hear anything until my sudden movement and look of wide-eyed mania kicked her into gear. She was always better in a crisis than me.   

I had always loved our sprawling hallway, filled with art and treasures. I would often admire the light coming through the stained glass above the door, reflecting the colours of the antique glass bottles on the wall opposite. Because of my obsession with collecting shiny things, Clare had given me the nickname Magpie.   

“Magpie” she yells down the hall. My running is loud on the floorboards and my only goal is to reach the front door. I knock over the ruby red glass vase I had given Clare for her birthday. I don’t think twice and must walk over it because a trail of blood follows me.  

I reach the front door and before I open it, I can hear voices I recognise as Tom and Rose from next door. Clare is behind me now and Tom yells out that Rusty has been hit by a car. Clare reaches for my arm and pulls me into her, telling me she will go to Rusty and I need to go inside and grab some blankets and the car keys. She tells me this because she knows I am not good with blood, particularly when it’s coming out of someone I love. This is her way of managing a crisis, make me feel useful.   

I run immediately inside, this time jumping over the broken glass and down the hall to the loungeroom. I grab a blanket from the couch, the car keys from the side bench and my mobile phone. By the time I make it outside, Rusty is in Tom’s arms wrapped in towels. He’s making his way to our car and Clare tells me she is will take her to the vet.   

“OK I’ll ring them and tell them what’s happened.” I manage to say through tears. The vet is only 10 minutes away, a journey we know reasonably well. As I dial, I make my way to the car, reach in the back seat and tell Rusty she will be OK. “Clare Bear is with you Rusty and I’ll see you soon.” Not lifting her head, her yellow eyes look at me as if she understands.  

 The vet rooms answer and frantically I relay my message. “They should be to you shortly. Can you ask Clare to ring me when she is able?” I ask. “Not a problem.” the woman at the end of line answers and hangs up.   

I pull the phone from my face and look at Rose who is standing in front of me. Other neighbors are on their front lawn watching and I suddenly feel self-conscious. I realise I’m on my front lawn wearing my underwear and old t-shirt. “Do you want me to make you a cup of tea?” Rose asks. “You look like you could use one.” 

“Thanks Rose. I think I’ll go change and wait for a phone call. I’ll catch up with you later hey?” 

I suddenly remember the driver and don’t want to deal with details now. As if he can sense my angst, Tom makes his way over to me and says, “I can talk to him if you want. You go inside and I’ll come see you tonight.”   

“Thanks Tom. I owe you!” I croak. 

As if in a daze, I walk through the front door, look at the shattered glass and cry. I can hear footsteps coming up the path. Slightly irritated, I snap my head around expecting to see Rose. Sometimes she can’t take no for an answer! I just want to be by myself. 

It’s not Rose. There is nobody there. I shut the door and head to the laundry at the back of the house. I walk down the hall, through the lounge overlooking the garden and make my way to the outside laundry. Only then do I consider my foot where a shard of glass has made its way into my flesh. Leaning on the concrete trough, I bend my leg and hold my assaulted foot in my left hand. I wince and pull the sliver of red out. A hot and sweaty feeling rises from my belly and before I know it, I want to be sick. 

I hobble out to the garden and empty the contents of my belly onto the hydrangeas.   

“Oh Magpie, it’s been a big day for you hey?”   

I look up and Clare is standing before me looking happy. Which is weird because she only left a few minutes ago and should be with Rusty. She makes a familiar clicking sound with her mouth to call Rusty and sure enough, Rusty comes to her side.   

“What happened? Why are back so quick? Why is she walking?” I ask. 

Clare reaches her hand out to touch my face and it’s only then I realise she hasn’t got any blood on her. She tells me to have a shower and a cup of tea. “You will feel much better soon.” 

I can hear my phone ring and instinctively turn my head toward the house. “Hang on a sec...” I say and walk inside. Just as I pick up the phone it stops ringing and almost immediately, I hear a knock at the front door. I make my way down the hall which at this point has my blood and shattered glass strewn across it. I open the door to a police officer asking me my name. “Yes, that’s me” I say.   

He stands very seriously with his hat under his arm and I think how this is all a bit much for a dog. “May I come in?” he says. My brain searches for the most logical thing and comes up with the thought that this lovely man has come to tell me my dog didn’t make it. Waste of resources but lovely. The neighbors must have called the police for the driver.   

I look at the clock on the wall next to the front door and notice it’s been about an hour since Clare drove to the vet. And she is out the back.   

I apologise for the glass and lead him to the loungeroom. His solemn face begs me to hear him out. I look for Clare and can’t see her. He begins with “There has been an accident. I have just left the scene of a BMW and an Aldi that we believe is registered to Clare Weaver. The occupant of the Aldi is deceased...