What Do I Do?

The boy was outside on the sidewalk in his Nike running clothes, and his dog was on a leash. The leash was in his hand. He wanted to go to the candy store, but his mother said he had to pay for the candy this time. The boy didn’t want to spend his own money. It was too valuable.

He looked back, but then walked over to his elementary school, telling his dog to stay here. “Sit.” The dog sat. The dog didn’t move. “I’m going over to play on the playground.” Then he stopped. “Or should I go get that candy?”

He thought.

Come on, Siamese. His inner consciousness made him think. You can make a decision! Do it—now.

The boy scratched his head. He looked over at the children running around on the bouncily annoying rubber mulch that felt like he was jumping on the moon. The playground filled with joyful screams rising to the skies above. The boy looked back at his dog. The black and white Border Collie barked, seeming to ask him whether he was going to the playground or the candy store a little ways down the road.

“What should I do, Collier?”

The boy studied the children. Then he had an idea. He walked to the candy store but not before getting his dog and going home to get his own money. He threw down his ugly piggy bank, smashing it to pieces. Relief at never seeing an ugly black snout again, the boy grabbed the many, many quarters and pennies and nickels and dimes, pocketing them for his trip outside. Then he grabbed the leash off the foyer carpet where he left his dog, and they both walked out the door to the candy store. The boy told his dog to keep up, but the dog kept whining and straining against his collar. The boy growled for him to hurry up, but the dog just sat down hard. And woofed.

“No!” The boy pulled hard. “Let’s—go!”

When the dog wouldn’t budge, the boy sighed. He looked at the candy store. Whether he should go without his dog or take his dog home, he had to think about it. He scratched his head. In twenty minutes, finally making a decision, the boy walked away from his dog. Entering the candy store, he said hello to the owner and made his way over to the gumballs. Whether he wanted to buy a gumball or a jawbreaker was a very tough decision. He kept looking from one candy to the next. Finally, after half-an-hour, he was told by a passerby that a Border Collie was found walking outside the fenced-in playground. Widening his eyes, the boy bolted over to his elementary school, and scolded the dog. Spanking it, the boy yelled at his dog, who looked at him like it was saying, I make decisions. Why can’t you? It cocked its head, giving a little whine.

The boy sighed, shaking his head. Then he half-dragged, half-led his dog away from the place. At home, the boy was told to feed his pet. Whether he should get chicken or steak, the boy instead opened the refrigerator and threw the dog a chicken bone. Grabbing it, the dog ate it all. When the boy went over to the dog’s pillow, he saw nothing.

“Ate it all, huh?” the boy said. Shrugging, the boy patted the dog on the head and went upstairs to his room. There, he saw his open laptop. Whether he was going to his homework for tomorrow or take a nap, he didn’t know. He stood there, pondering the decision. Then the dog started barking, belching, it sounded like. The boy made a face, but then thought nothing of it as he listened to slow jazz music on his computer as he completed his homework.

The dog sent up a loud yelp, and the boy jerked away from his computer, his earphones ripping out of his ears. Dashing downstairs, the boy checked his dog over, seeing nothing that would make the dog bark in such a high-pitched way. Whether to call his parents for help, or to be alone in this CPR treatment, the boy widened his eyes, quickly making a decision. However, the boy’s father walked calmly into the foyer (his steps told the boy). The boy whipped around, pointing at the dog.

“He’s in pain, Dad!” The boy’s scared voice made his face grab the phone off the little desk nearby and dial 9-1-1.

“What happened?”

“I gave him a chicken bone! I—I thought it was fine.” The boy was panicked, tears starting to gush out. the father looked at him as if he were about to scold him for giving the dog, who was now shaking and trying to get up off his bed, something inedible. Then the father, having spoken to the veterinarians, rushed to the refrigerator. He whipped it open, and looked frantically around.

“Which one?” He brought out a huge one. “One of these?”

“Yeah!”

The father threw the chicken bone into the refrigerator and stormed over to the boy. Whacking his bottom, the father yelled at his son, and then grabbed him into a hug. The boy, tears streaming down his face, told him his mother had warned him about that. The boy nodded after letting go of his father, and said, “I know. I just—I always have to think about the decisions—”

“Then think about what you’re doing, Siamese!” The father walked off, warning him that the vets would be here—

They stormed inside, the boy throwing himself into a hysterical fit when he saw the vets take his dog away. The father ran towards his son, grabbing him and holding him back before the boy jumped into the ambulance. The sirens screamed as the truck went off, the boy fighting his father. The father told his son to stop! The boy did. He was let go, and the father turned him around. “Don’t you ever give that dog anything but dog food, do you hear me?”

“Yes, Dad!”

The boy stood there, the tears streaking down his face. “I hope he’s okay.” The father came back, picked up his son and put him on the couch in the living room. Flipping on the TV, the father asked whether his son wanted to watch TV.

“Oh—do you have your homework done?”

“Almost.”

“Get it done now, Si.”

The boy didn’t answer, but stood there after getting off the couch. I hope he’s okay. The boy towards the foyer, and zoomed out the door before his father could complete his sentence of shock. The boy raced all the way to the animal hospital a few miles down the road (all the while stopping for traffic, his heart beating quite hard). He burst into the vet’s office, going up to the receptionist’s desk. “My dog—my dog! Where is he?”

The shaken receptionist pointed in a quick fashion towards a room. The boy ran off, thanking her. The boy put his hands to his head, shaking it when he saw his dog on the metallic table, needles and syringes being put into his body. The tongue lay limp. The boy’s heart beat faster and harder than it had when he had escaped to the fence outside the school playground. Vets were coming in and going out of the room in a hurry, telling each other what they needed to do. Fully masked and gloved and clothed doctors tended to the poor animal as one doctor pulled out one tiny piece of chicken bone at a time. The boy lunged for his dog.

“No, Si!” The boy struggled against someone until he looked up. His father’s panicked, stern face shone down.

“I—my dog!”

“He’ll be alright!” The father ordered the boy to follow him, and the boy balled his fists, biting his lip as he fought the urge to resist his dad. That night, the boy’s stomach would not hold down the dinner given to him. He would not close his eyes, though school was tomorrow. All night long, he tossed and turned in his bed, waffling between sleep and dread of news that his dog had died on the operation table. That morning, as if in slow motion, he packed his backpack (after finishing his homework early that morning), walked out the door and slid his hand up and down and then walked away. The boy went through school like he was swimming through Jello. His friends, two pretty brunette girls and a blond boy, asked him at lunch whether he was going to eat his salad and yogurt. The boy’s food entered his mouth, went down his throat but just sat there. Like cement.

The boy stared at the gold, black and red paint that made up the school’s mascot of a rhino all the time his teachers lectured the classroom. When it was time to give a presentation, the boy spoke in a monotone. Theatre class was the same, and the drama teacher had to sit him down. The boy sat, staring eyes creeping the children out a little. Some whispered that he wasn’t even looking at anything.

The boy finally blinked and said “Yes, sir” to the principal who told him he would have to repeat this day on Saturday if he didn’t get his act together. The boy nodded, forcing himself to concentrate. In the bathroom, he burst into tears. Someone told him he was getting the nurse. When the boy exited the stall and then the bathroom, the nurse slid a warm hand on his back, speaking softly. The boy nodded respectfully, looking at her.

“My dog—my dog!” The boy begged, giving her the most pitiful look.

The nurse’s shoulders sagged. She gave him some water and had him sit down. Then the boy spilled his sad story of a dog with chicken bones in his stomach. The nurse, eyes wider than he had ever seen them, gasped and leaned towards the boy. “Do you know chicken bones can cut up the stomach?”

The boy’s eyes went all wide, and he shook his head slowly. “No! No, ma’am. I didn’t!”

The nurse took his hands in her own. “No, no! Never do that again.”

“Okay.” The boy nodded respectfully, striving to finish the school day. When he came back home, the boy told his father he didn’t have a good day. The father nodded, and kept watching TV. The boy walked around to his father. “Dad,” he said, standing in front of the TV. “Can we talk?”

“Get out of the way, Siamese!” The father jerked his head over. “I’m watching TV!”

“Can we talk about Mom?” The boy pressed. The father sighed, snapping off the TV. “Your mother isn’t here—”

“Why?” The boy spat, spinning around, glaring at his father. The father froze and then looked at his son. The boy’s resolute face stared hard at his father. “Why? My dog isn’t Mom. Why isn’t she here?”

The father wore a clumsy expression on his face as the boy demanded to know whether his mother took off or whether she had died. The father wanted to tell his son, but he tried keeping the truth from him for so long, he just wanted his son to become of age before telling him. “Siamese, I just don’t know how to tell you. I…”

“Whatever. I’m going up to my room. Maybe France will come over. He always does when I’m up there at the end of the school day.”

“Not before your homework is done. If he’s here, you two are to do homework first.”

“Yeah.”

“Don’t you take that tone with me, young boy!”

“I’m not having any tone with you!” The boy responded, standing up for himself.

The father jumped up, walked around the couch and towards the stairs. Yanking his son’s arm, he whipped him around, glaring right at him. “Stop it!” He shook him, telling him he provided for him. His dog was in the hospital because of him. Now, he had to face the decision of whether he was going to keep feeding him dog bones or keep him real dog food. The boy tore away, a scowl on his face. The father shook his head sadly. “Now I have to endure my disrespectful son, huh?”

The boy blinked. “Dad, I do my best to be a great son to you. Sorry Mom left. Or whatever happened. You know, you didn’t birth me. So you don’t know what it’s like to be a mother and a son.”

“Well, I do know what a father and son is like. I need you to be on your best behavior—”

“Not when a parent’s not here—”

“Because she never wanted to be!”

The boy thudded down the steps, flew open the door, saying he was going to the animal hospital. The father yelled for him to get in the car. He didn’t. The father went to tackle the boy, but the boy was quick, dodging his father’s arms. “No!” The boy sprinted, surprised at how fast he could run. When he heard yelping, the boy darted faster, his heart thumping. Upon entering, he swerved to the left, entering the same room.

The Border Collie was still on the operating table. The vets gently pushed him out of the way, but the boy stubbornly wrapped his arms around his dog. “Mom, Mom, I wish you could come see this! It looks like he’s getting better.”

“Son, please. We need to keep operating on him.” One of the vets calmly took both shoulders, leading him to a chair against the wall. Barely containing himself, the boy’s frustration raged inside him. He sat but had done so in a loud, noisy way. “Please—” The vet shushed him, but the boy glared. It seemed like hours before the boy could even touch his dog. Then a vet showed a scar—big, ugly one—stretched across his belly. Wagging a finger in the boy’s worried face, the vet said in a grave voice to never let that dog near any chicken again!

The boy nodded. Back home, the father said for the boy to watch his dog. He did. But one day, the boy took his dog on a long walk. He asked neighbors whether they saw a middle-aged woman with big hair, red lipstick and a son and a husband and a Border Collie all living under the same roof. They said she had disappeared.

Decades later, Siamese got a call from his father. He congratulated him for graduating from the police academy with high honors. A detective, the man was proud to have solved the mystery of his mother’s disappearance. He still longed for a companion. His dog’s pictures still lay before the window in his tiny apartment. He stood outside, looking around at the parking lot, the cars coming and going. People getting out, checking the time, talking with each other and saying hello. He was single. He wanted a wife.

Siamese sighed. He went back inside. He fed his goldfish, Tomson, and went out the front door. After locking it, he headed downstairs, walking along the pebbly sidewalk, trying not to breathe in the stony atmosphere. Not many people waved hello to him here. a case was solved. But not many people congratulated him. Cards and gifts were given him by friends and family—relatives.

“After I talk to my mother, I’m going to the bar.”

He got in his car and took a drive. Heading for the jailhouse, he got out, showed his identification to the right people and headed for his seat among other visitors. Grabbing the phone, he looked at his mother, an elderly woman with wrinkles deep in her brown skin, a look of regret shining through those dark eyes. The woman wore an orange jumpsuit. The man wore a white T-shirt. He said he was lonely.

No words formed. He put down the phone, knowing he could never develop a relationship who had abandoned him so long ago. The woman’s eyes were downcast, and she never looked at him. Then he slammed it, and then pursed his lips. He promised he’d never turn into an angry man but forgive and move on. His father had become angry, he had believed. That was why he had left for college. To read people’s minds, faces and body language. To see whether they were true. They weren’t hiding anything anymore.

To bring people back together.

The man got up after putting the phone on its receiver. “I’m sorry!” The woman put her hand to the Plexiglas. The man nodded goodbye. Tears trailed down the woman’s face, and she said she hoped to see him again.

“Maybe when I’m dancing with my wife!”

The man exited, the woman sitting there and then being told to go back to her cell. She obeyed, slowly getting up and turning around, sniffles being the only answer to her son’s retort. The man got back in his car, and a cellphone rang. He picked it up. “Hey, Siamese. It’s Brit. Let’s go to the park, and throw a Frisbee around. What do you say?”

“Brit—is Meg going to be there? And France?” They were his three good friends from childhood.

“No. Just me.”  

He found himself smiling and laughing over ice cream later that night. The foursome were still together. But times were different soon. They drifted apart, and the man felt alone again. He left his apartment house, moving into a real home. A woman followed him inside. After they had moved, they danced together, the woman looking cheerily into his face.

And the man smiling to himself as he took his wife and spun her around, dancing together.

Behind them, Collier Jr. the Border Collie barked happily.

“Nope. Sorry, boy. No chicken for you!”

He whined.