Challenge in a Can keywords: Jean Grey & upset & doll
Disclaimer: Nope, don't own her.
Maggie
by Jen1703
She was just a dog.
That's what they kept telling Jean, but that didn't make it hurt any less. In fact, it made the pain worse, knowing that Maggie had apparently meant so little to her parents.
Jean came home from school that afternoon and threw open the front door, bracing herself for Maggie's usual exuberant greeting. When Maggie failed to appear, the 10-year-old red head called the dog's name, thinking maybe her friend was napping in the family room and hadn't heard the door; after all, Maggie's hearing wasn't quite as good as it used to be. But Jean's call received no response.
Brow furrowed, Jean dropped her book bag in the foyer and trekked through the house searching for Maggie. In the kitchen, she found her mother sitting at the table with her traditional glass of white wine, flipping casually through a home decor magazine. Jean rolled her eyes at Elaine's mundane predictability.
"Where's Maggie? I can't find her," Jean asked, picking an apple out of the fruit bowl and taking a bite.
"Maggie's gone."
The young girl stopped chewing, staring at her mother without comprehension. "What do you mean gone?"
Elaine sighed. "You know Maggie was getting old, Jean. This morning I took her to the vet and had her put down."
"No," Jean choked, tears pricking her eyes. "No, you didn't. You couldn't! You wouldn't just do something like that without telling me!"
"Your father and I thought it would be easier for you this way. So I'm sorry, Jean, but it's done. She's gone," her mother confirmed, holding something out to her daughter.
It was Maggie's collar.
Jean's body went numb with shock, and for several long seconds her brain refused to process what she'd just been told. When the truth sank in, the pain was intolerable. "I hate you!" Jean screamed at her mother, dropping the forgotten apple and snatching the collar before fleeing. Neither mother nor daughter realized that the collar had actually flown to Jean's hand before she could touch it.
Jean ran upstairs to her bedroom, slamming the door behind her. Devastated, she threw herself onto her bed, sobbing uncontrollably.
When her father came home, he and her mother tried to talk to Jean, explaining that it had needed to be done. Sitting on the bed next to Jean, her father stroked her hair to soothe her. "She was just a dog, sweetheart," he said, trying to be kind. "We can get another one in a few weeks if that's what you and your sister want."
Jean refused to look at her father, instead staring at the faded blue nylon collar she still grasped. She hated her parents more in that moment than she'd ever thought possible.
Her mother finally lost her patience, throwing her hands up in the air in frustration. "Why can't you be more like your sister? Sara's not hysterical over this. It was a dog, Jean, not a person. There's no need for the theatrics."
Jean's temper flared, and she lost control. "Maggie wasn't just a dog! She was my friend! She was part of the family! I thought you loved her!" The last was said with such venomous contempt that Elaine and John physically recoiled from the girl's accusation.
"We did love Maggie, honey," John tried to placate her, but Jean would have none of it.
"Then how could you let her do it?" Jean spat, glaring at her mother before collapsing face-first onto the bed and being consumed by sobs.
Her father was at a loss. "Sweetie -"
"Leave me alone," came her muffled reply. And, thankfully, they did.
She was just a dog.
Jean kept repeating those words over and over in her head, until they lost all meaning.
Hours after the encounter with her parents, Jean had eventually stopped crying. She was curled up on her window seat, peering at the backyard below. The cool glass of the window pressed against her forehead as she let her head drop to the side. In the fading daylight, she could still see some of Maggie's toys lying haphazard around the yard - her favorite tennis ball, grimy and (she knew but couldn't see) dotted with puncture marks from countless games of fetch; the Frisbee Jean and Maggie would spend hours playing with together; the pull-rope for tug-o-war, or for carting Sara and Jean around on a sled in the winter. Jean turned away from the abandoned toys as fresh tears collected and threatened to spill over.
She was just a dog.
Jean had often felt like Maggie was the only one in the family who truly understood her. Perhaps it was that they'd grown up together, Maggie having been brought into the Grey family just a few months after Jean was born. The big blond Bouvier would spend hours sitting with her young mistress, listening patiently as Jean shared all her worries and dreams. Maggie was infinitely patient with Jean when she'd been a baby, and was exceptionally tuned into Jean's emotions as she got older; Maggie would without fail seek the girl out when she was upset and offer her silent comfort and unconditional love.
A knot lodged in Jean's throat as she suddenly realized she would be sleeping alone tonight. For the first time ever, Maggie wouldn't be curled up beside her offering warmth and silent, familiar comfort. Jean wouldn't come home tomorrow to Maggie's excited barking and sloppy kisses that conveyed to Jean just how much the dog loved and missed her.
She was just a dog.
Maggie would never be just a dog to her. She never had been, and she certainly would not be relegated to that status in death - Jean refused to betray her memory like that. Jean hugged her tattered old rag doll to her chest with one hand, and cradled Maggie's now-ownerless collar with the other, and once again gave in to the tears. Alone in her room, Jean mourned the loss of her best friend.
~END~
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