On Saturdays, Brendon and Michele work the joint morning shift at the local animal shelter. They arrive between seven and eight with a serious case of sleep deprivation, coffee, and their wits – everything else is checked at the door. Upon entering the building, the two enjoy a quick banter before settling down to actually work. The two saunter across the hallways throughout the day bringing life to the seemingly miserable atmosphere of lost souls.
It always mystified me that people could have paying jobs doing what they love, and those two loved their jobs as much as they loved life itself. The two of them made the brightest pair of friends the world had ever seen, and every animal, man, and woman that passed through that sanctuary for homeless pets enjoyed every bit of their energy.
In terms of the two of them, Brendon just recently bought a house with his wife, so that morning he was moreso sleep-deprived than before. Michele began hosting her sister, brother-in-law, and three nieces and nephew just two days before, so she was also a little lagging in energy.
I was there that fateful Sunday after conversing with Hank. I walked in to a warm, welcoming, yet startling silence as the two simply worked away to feed he howling guests. I recognize the need for silence and solace when the world requires it, but there is absolutely no need for despair to hang in the air. So, being the cheerful young man that I once was, I planted myself between the two of them. "Where is the singing, the entertainment?" I scoop up a few of the labeled bowls and start heading over to the yard-side kennels. "You know, most of us aren't here because we're trying to be good people. You two are free joyshows for us. Do either of you need extra coffee? I could run out to the Mocha place down the street. I could-"
"Don, please." Brendon looks at me with pained eyes; he had glasses and a bald head and a prickling beard. He was Islander and Canadian – a handsome man, to say the very least – but I had not seen someone so beautiful suddenly so broken before.
So where do I go from here? I walked backwards out the swinging doors to the waiting mutts, and I caught sight of Michele's eye. She, too, was clearly in pain.
Without background information, I could butcher my relationship with these two by A) trying too hard and pretend to understand their pain: or, I could B) ignore it all and just let the morning drag by. It was only a few hours until opening, so it really would not take that long.
Or, being the man I was, I could C) try to palpably understand their pain.
In the furthest kennel from the boisterous canines was a set of three puppies; underfed, scarred, and frightened beyond belief. The three Pit Bull mixes cowered in a corner together to stay as far away form me, the whites of their eyes luminescent in the dark corner. It would be a big surprise if all three of them were adopted, and for that small fact my heart dropped at the sight of them; reality is a cruel dream to partake in. They did relax, however, when I ushered them their morning meals.
Please. I do not ask for miracles, but I want to help the world. In the name of my mother's dream, let me help all of you!
And one of them, a female with a bright set of dull brown, scared eyes, crawled closer to me. The innocent life turned belly-up in submission, and with a divine purpose that I still cannot fathom, came right up to me as I put down the bowls for her siblings. I scratched at her soft underside as my mother did every weekend – caring, soft, yet aggressive enough to get the little leg to pound the air in its little lung's laughter. That's what the wagging tails mean, if you did not know. It is the gentle soul laughing.
The idea took flight in my heart well after I actually picked her up and was carrying her into the dog kitchen.
The two staff members are still silent, but there is enough room between them on the counter for me to wedge in and put down a two-month old pit bull puppy.
Her legs were unsteady, and the two look at the little body in shock. "Don, what the hell?" Brendon started to say (or, so I believe he was trying to say), but I cut him off.
"Its really funny. I was here yesterday and these little puppers weren't. I can't help but wonder what their story is, can't you? I mean," I started walking around the kitchen, tidying up the small room, "you work here so you're both pretty used to it, but there is so much to be seen behind a great and powerful little life like this." I walked right back between the two co-workers and rubbed the little angel on the head. Her shy tail wagged as she marched smack into Michele's arm. She began licking something off the woman's face, and Michele smiled through silent tears. "There is something amazing inside of everyone and everything, and whether or not they can tell us their story-" I reached to scratch behind the puppy's ear in the same instant Brendon starts massaging the baby animal's soft back. She looked so proud of herself.
"-its our job, as humans, to be willing to open up and care." I paused for emphasis. "At least, that's what my mom always said. I know you guys knew her, and you know I'm telling the truth when I say she loved the two of you. You know," just as the two begin to get comfortable with my bizarre antics, I simultaneously scope up a fresh bowl of puppy chow and grab the Pit. "Whatever happened, whether or not it's something relevant to me, or if its something I can or can't help with, I'm here to do my part for the world." I flashed the best smile I could muster. It was a lying smile - a smile that lied directly to the heart by saying everything was going to be okay.
And, as the fool I will ever be, I spoke those words without hesitation. "Whatever has happened, I am positive that everything will continue to get better."
It turned out that they were both simply running on fumes. I "overreacted to something so small" that they both were back to themselves by the end of the evening.
I truly wish that those lies I told could come true.
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So Diego's this one hell'ova guy you wont meet twice and couldn't afford to forget - he has this killer personality and the coolest parents and the hottest sister. I mean, Carol's not just some chick – I'm pretty sure she's the chick, if you know what I mean. And since we're having a before-party for the event he's having tonight, why not have some fun before I gotta go and babysit Don?
Why not. He's got this pool in the backyard that doesn't amount to much, but at least it's not a community pool. And, like I said, his sisters one hell of a girl.
He lives about a two mile walk away, and since Dad probably wont approve of these particular "festivities," I take a hike a while after Don leaves; in thirty minutes, a quick rapping at his door and I'm in. I have to weave between some people before I can find the host, but it's worth it when we pull each other into a bearhug. "How ya doin Hank! Hey guys, it's the Hammer!" He shouts over the already blaring music. I laugh despite myself and steal his solo cup for a swig. "I'm great now man, thanks! You ready to kick some ass Tuesday?"
"Yell yeah! Till then though, we need to hang. I mean, we're only high schoolers once aren't we?" I punch him in the arm with sass spread across my face. "Yeah, unless you're Diego Cardoso!"
"Aw, shut up! I'm passing math, unlike you!" He roars, punching me right back. We're laughing our stupid heads off in the simple pleasure of each other and our drinks (to which he quickly gets me my own cup, since I'd already spilled half of his on my face) and we start walkin around.
Apparently there's a lot of things I don't actually know; there's Grace Wong and Danny Fernando, who are both in my English class and apparently a thing, and I guess Jared Gregson is together with Emilio Whatshisface. I never really pegged Jared to be that kind of guy – if you ask me – but anyone with the name Emilio is meant to be… well, that kind of guy. But they're here and getting all hot and heavy on one another, so I can't do much other than slap Jared on the back in greeting.
Oh, and Megan's with Luke as of three minutes ago, and they're already stooping over each other. It's just past noon and most of the people here are pretty far drunk, and I have yet to get Carol to the side.
When I do, we're in their dinky pool messing around with one another. It starts off with playful banter, but before long we're actually acting like five-year olds.
I haven't felt so free in so damn long. With everything going on with Dad, I guess I'm having a hard time keeping my head level. And here we are, in our little space having a blast and a half, because we chose to stop caring so damn much about everyone else.
I don't even know what we've been talking about, but its well past four in the afternoon by the time I check my phone. Carol's beautiful dark eyes settle on me inquisitly when she notes my glance at their clock an hour later. "Do you have somewhere to be, Hank? Aren't you having fun?" She swishes her hair over her shoulder to the other side of her head, since we're now lounging out on their chairs outside. The colors of the sky are starting to melt into one another, and her dark skin seems as beautiful as it can get.
Heh, she's trying to play me – I can just tell. I reach to stroke her arm. "I'm having a great time Carol, I just made my brother a promise tonight."
"Oh? What kind of promise?" She reaches for my – no, our cup, since she spilled hers – and takes a gentle swig. I watch her every movement while I lie there with a stupid grin. I shrug though, since she jolts me back into the present. "I couldn't tell you," I try, praying that she'll drop the subject, "He's doing some damn…. soul-surfing, or something like that."
"Still, I love the older brother-little brother relationship that you guys have. Its super cute to picture you two actually living together. Its Don, right? It must be hard being his brother. I've seen him around, he doesn't look much like you."
"What are you talking about? We have the same exact damn face! - and what do you mean it must 'be hard'? He's just like any other runt brother."
"No, not physically." Her dark eyes flicker to me, "Well, yeah physically, but that's not what I meant. He seems like… I don't know…"
"Like what?"
"I don't know," she settles on her answer and looks over me at someone behind us, "It just seems like a hassle, being so different and all."
"Just because we're different doesn't mean we can't get along."
"Really?" Her confusion is honest, and I get that – I just don't get the direction she's taking this conversation. "I mean, God, he just seems so thick-headed sometimes."
"And how would you know?" I demand, sitting up. She follows me and reaches for my hand. "Whoa Hank, I don't mean any offense! Please, just hear me out. I only say thick-headed because he's so set in his noble way. He's so self-centered and so judgemental-"
"Self-centered? Judgmental? Who the hell are you talking about? Because it sure as hell isn't my brother."
"God, stop interrupting me!" Carol pulls her hand away. "Look, he's so caught up in his little world all the time, the only times I see him is when he's got his face stuck in a… damn dictionary at the library. Everyone is either good or bad in his book, and I can tell on his face that he judges every damn person in the hallways."
I stand up and get loud. I can't help it. You're not allowed to talk about him Don that. It's this simple.
"Please, Don's the last guy on the planet to judge someone. And just because he has a damn… oh, whats it f***ing called?... a damn moral compass doesn't mean that he's all high and mighty. Yeah he's a prick and a dick and a thorn in my side, but that's because that's who he is. Don's only like that to the people he cares about because he's honest – since when is that a crime against humanity?"
"Okay, maybe it's just me, but I feel like he needs to stop butting his head into everyone else's business and mind his own. Half of the hits he'll take are from trying to step in for other lost causes, and what's the point in that?" She presses on; I don't think she noticed the change in my face, since she's analyzing her green nails. "I don't know. Its gotta suck getting pulled down by someone like that. Diego's not too bad, and we have our differences and all, but we –"
"But you what? Get along? Like hell you do! And who are you to judge him, him, my little brother?! Its not like you know him or nothing!"
"Where did this conversation come from?" She screeches stupidly at me. "I'm trying to be honest here, I'm just saying what no one else has the balls to say!"
"Like hell you are! Don's my brother - The only reason why he steps up for other losers is because they don't have the balls, but apparently you don't either, if you're willing to say this all to my face but not his… or, or your own for that matter!"
"What are you talking about? Are you accusing me of something?" She stands up just as I did, a fire in both of our heads. The people around us die down a little bit, and I can't hear a thing other than my ragged, half-drunk breathing.
"What am I accusing you of? Oh, this is great, you don't know a thing, do you? You're so… so pompous, so damn self-rigouts! Have you ever done something for someone other than yourself? Look in the mirror sweetheart, you're no better than those rats in the hallways who get kicked around!"
"How DARE you!" She slaps me across the face, but awwwww man I'm just getting started!
No one, no one, gets away with talking about my damn ass of a brother… but me!
"How dare I? How dare you! You can't respect people for being different, then that sucks ass! You suck ass! You breeze around without a care in the world, and you couldn't care less about how the real world works. At least there are people like Don to stick up for the little guy! At least he's got the damn balls! And you know what? He's my damn brother, and you don't have a damn right to talk about him like this. He and I are alike… he just… he just doesn't know when to quit." I snarl defiantly as my voice flickers. She throws what remains of our drink in my face and slaps me again. "And apparently you don't either!" She hisses before storming away.
Diego barrels out to the porch, pushing people aside so he can get to the commotion. Carol flusters past him, and after watching her retreat into the safety of their house, he storms out to me. "What the hell were you doing just now, huh? Come on Hall, what did you do to my sister!?"
He grabs my shirt by the fistful, and I look down to meet his amber eyes. I could do what I do best, but I'm really not in the damn mood for a show.
I grab his fists and rip them off of me. I go to the side of their yard and slam the side door behind me. I walk home, hands deep in my pockets.
Do I feel guilty? No, I don't think so. Do I feel sad? Hell no. I just… talking like that isn't fair. It isn't cool, and no one has the right to talk about someone they don't know like they do know them. Being mean just isn't cool.
Yeah Don's weak, but he isn't weak in balls. He understands what it means to stand up for himself, and if you haven't figured that out yet, then you don't know him.
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Brandon and Michele are real people, they work the weekend shifts at the shelter with me. Other than that, just more stage-setting for the big night. Comments, questions, and complaints all loved and appreciated!