Taking up his new role of leader of the gang took a little adjustment, but Dodger found himself happy with the change. Now that he'd garnered some respect from Francis, he actually had a good deal of influence. More than anything, they just had fun together, and any urges Dodger previously had to strike out on his own had dissipated; the challenge of making Francis and Tito into capable street dogs was keeping him busy, and their relationships getting ever closer. Tito idolised Dodger, following him around wherever he went, seemingly hoping to pick up some of the older dog's talent for attracting girls. Once Tito got his head around the basics and was no longer driving away young ladies whom Dodger was trying to chat up, the young mutt was happy to have an accomplice.
Come late afternoon, Rita took off with Scout, as per the routine she'd got herself into. Dodger would take this as his cue that work was over and that it was time to enjoy himself- not that his work day was ever particularly strenuous to begin with. It seemed to him that for someone who was having doubts, Rita was very determined to keep the romance going, and he wondered if there was something more to it. Dodger didn't, however, worry himself with it all; Rita could handle herself perfectly fine and he had his own fun to be had.
This evening, Dodger was on his own. Tito had dashed off home to lay claim to control over the television set before Francis did- which wasn't much of a challenge as the bulldog was still getting the hang of car surfing and always took a while to get home, especially as he had a tendency to get lost. As much as he was enjoying his new larger family, having the space to just be on his own was welcome for Dodger. He headed down to the docks, past the turn he'd usually take to go home to the barge. There was an old disused warehouse down there which was gradually becoming a place for social gatherings of street dogs. A shaggy brown mutt had been the first to claim the space, and he happily hosted visiting canines from all walks of life. The result was that there was almost always dogs around to hang out with- and the steady stream of dogs moving through the place meant that it was the perfect spot to pick up girls.
For a long while, Dodger busied himself with chatting up a pretty young mixed-breed, who seemed quite taken with him. Interested though the bitch was, she was rather slow in moving forward with it all. She did allow Dodger a lick to her cheek and an invitation to meet up with him again the next day, but that was the extent of it. Quitting while he was ahead, Dodger sauntered out around the back, where loud voices signalled that there was fun to be had. He scanned the crowd hopefully, and his eyes fell on another female who was laughing as two young males fawned over her.
Dodger froze. That face was familiar… stirring up the faintest of memories. She was wiry haired, squarely built, her ears folding over at the top, and her eyes bright and hard. If she wasn't a pure fox terrier than it was certainly the main contributor to her appearance. Suddenly Dodger's mouth was very dry. He knew who it was, he'd seen her in stained, creased photographs. It was his mother; the mother who'd walked out on him when he was little over a month old. It wasn't possible, it couldn't be. Einstein had always said that Dodger's mother had left because she desperately needed to get back home to her master, but there was no master here. She wasn't even wearing a collar. Had it all been a lie? Feeling as if he was going to be sick, Dodger moved closer, unable to take his eyes off her. Surely he was dreaming… this couldn't be real.
The bitch looked around and saw the young dog staring. She smiled, liking what she saw and approached. "Hi there," she said, continuing to look the newcomer over- much to the apparent annoyance of the two dogs who had been enjoying her attention.
A scent hit Dodger, a final confirmation that he was seeing what he thought he was seeing. Somehow a scent that had been so comforting to him, a promise of his mother close by, now repulsed him. It simply didn't make sense.
"You come around here often, sweetheart?" she was saying, though Dodger could barely hear.
Dodger pulled himself from his trance. Something wasn't right, it didn't feel as though she knew him. With a jolt, he realised that she was making a move on him. He pulled away abruptly as his mother moved close, brushing up against him.
"What are you doin' here?" Dodger finally managed to stammer out. "You went to your master- what are you…?"
For a moment the mother looked perplexed. Then her expression changed, and she laughed. "Oh, it's you. I didn't recognise you, you're all grown up. I knew you didn't need a mother around. What did I call you, kid?"
Dodger couldn't speak. He couldn't take it in… she was here, and she barely knew him.
The two dogs that flanked the mother sniggered. "I didn't think you were the maternal type, Layla?" the larger of the two asked snidely.
The mother turned her attention back to her suitors. "Oh, I really am not. This was an accident, guess I got a little too careless," she laughed, "You know, I don't even know who the father was, although…" she looked over Dodger, "I think I can narrow it down."
Dodger could feel sick rising up from his stomach. He couldn't stand it- she looked at him as though he was nothing; worse than nothing, some embarrassing mistake she'd once made. He looked at her, trying to forge some sort of a connection, but she just kept looking straight through him. "Your master… you went to your master?"
"There was no one. Listen, kid, do you think I could have lived my life the way I wanted with some whiny pup in tow?" she laughed. "I never intended getting knocked up in the first place. You had that dopey Dane wanting to keep you, so all I had to do was make up an excuse and get outta there. I could just forget it ever happened. And you know what, sugar? That's exactly what I've been doing." Seemingly bored, she turned away and rubbed up against one of her suitors. "I didn't have to stick around as long as I did, you should be grateful."
Unable to take it anymore, Dodger waited until his mother looked away from him and then he ran. He stumbled and fell against a wall and then finally couldn't stop himself from being sick any longer. He was shaking, the words still echoing in his ears even over the sounds of his distressed breathing. His mother didn't want him, she'd never wanted him. It was though he'd stumbled into his worst nightmare, the fears that had haunted him since he was just a pup; the ones he'd kept to himself, never telling a soul. And now it was real, no way to escape, no waking from the horror. Memories of that dreadful morning; a pup of just a month old waking excitedly and rushing to greet the mother he'd loved- whom he'd always assumed had loved him back. But she was gone, leaving Einstein to impart on the tiny child what he could never accept; that his own mother loved some human more than she did him. Even that had been nothing but a cruel lie; the truth was that the only person his mother loved was herself, and as long as she was happy it simply didn't matter that her child would spend the next week crying himself to sleep.
Barely able to see where he was going through the tears that he desperately tried to keep from falling, Dodger ran on, going home to the only security he could rely on. He came down into the barge and collapsed in despair, sobbing as the weight of it all came crashing down. He couldn't handle it, it was too much; everything flooded back to him but with the added dreadful knowledge that even his own mother couldn't love him. What, then, did that make Dodger?
At first Rita thought she was imagining it, but the sounds grew louder as she came to the stairs. It sounded as though someone was crying- sobbing. Very quickly she was filled with concern- what was going on? To her knowledge, everyone was out for the day, she'd headed home relatively early. Quietly coming down the stairs, she listened, worried.
"Dodge?" She called out gently, not believing it. Dodger didn't cry. Never. "Is that you?"
The mutt was shaking, biting at his forelegs as he sobbed, apparently void of any control. He did not appear to have even noticed that she was there, almost as if in a trance. Had it been anyone else, Rita would have been concerned enough had it been any of the others- but Dodger quite simply didn't put on a show of his emotions. Something was seriously, horribly wrong, and Rita instantly became fearful.
"Dodgie!" Rita approached cautiously, having no idea how he'd react to her being there, but knew she couldn't let him keep hurting himself like that. He still didn't look at her, caught up in the grief that had left him spiralling out of control. Trusting her instincts, Rita draped herself around him and placed her head under his, preventing him from biting. For a moment he struggled, pulling away, but then gave in pressed himself up against her, and cried into her neck. Rita was stunned, and realised that she herself was shaking. "Dodge, what happened?" No response.
Finally calming down, it dawned on Dodger that the barge was not the most discreet place to let it all out; he had to get out of there before anyone else saw him. What had he been thinking? "I gotta get outta here, Rita, I gotta go." He panted, out of breath after a fit of hyperventilating. Getting to his feet, he was light-headed, but moved quickly toward the door.
Rita made to follow, but stopped herself, not wanting to make anything worse. "Do you want me to come with you?"
Reluctantly, Dodger nodded. It was too late to hide this from her, and if he was honest with himself, he really did want her there to lean on. Her presence seemed to be helping, just a little.
The young dogs found a quiet spot, out of the way so they wouldn't be disturbed. Dodger lay down and looked out at the water, his mind still screaming at him. Any hope that it was all just a terrible nightmare had faded, and he could see no way out from the torment that raged inside him. He jumped as he felt Rita's tongue against his leg. Seeing that she was tending to the small wounds left behind from his lapse of self-control, he settled down and watched her in silence. Every time he went to swallow it caught in his throat, and it was all that he could do to keep himself from starting to cry all over again. The shame of it was hard to take; he had never wanted Rita to see him like this. Still he said nothing. He couldn't and he wouldn't.
Rita had managed to stop shaking, and was left feeling confusion and a deep sadness. She was at a loss as to what to do for her friend, with no idea of what could have sent him into such a state. Gently, rested her head on top of Dodger's, hoping that her being near would at least be of some comfort to him. For a long while they sat in silence. He seemed to be gradually calming down.
"You don't mind stayin' out with me tonight, do ya? I can't face goin' home right now." Dodger spoke quietly, embarrassed and hurting.
"Whatever you need, hon. Just let me know if there's anything else I can do."
Dodger rested his head down. "This is enough."
Rita fought the urge to probe him for an explanation. It was clear that he didn't want to talk about whatever it was that had caused him such distress. As she lay down her head next to Dodger's, it dawned on her that she'd missed meeting up with Scout as they'd arranged. She knew that he would not have been thrilled to be stood up, but it seemed unimportant in that moment. If Dodger needed her, then by her friend's side was where she would stay.
Dodger awoke the next day with Rita still huddled up beside him. It had been a great comfort to have her there, giving him that little bit of reassurance that he was not, entirely, unwanted. Still, it had been a great dent to his pride, and he wondered what Rita must think of him now- he'd shown himself to be weak, a victim to his own emotions. He was determined that the damage to his reputation would end at that, no one else was to know anything. Hurting though he was, Dodger knew he'd have to hide it all; this was his burden to carry and his alone.
Rita stirred. "How're you feeling, Dodge?" she asked sleepily, gazing at her friend through tired eyes.
"I'm fine," Dodger forced a smile, hoping that he could talk down the previous night's meltdown. "It was nothin', really. Just somethin' I had to get outta my system I s'ppose." He could tell by her expression that she wasn't convinced, but there was no way he could let on what the problem was- he could very well lose control over himself a second time. "Anyway, I'm over it."
"You think I'm stupid?" Rita sat up, bristling instantly, "That was not nothing! Whatever the problem is, it's obviously hurt you bad. You can't just force yourself to cover it all up, you'll make yourself sick."
"Last night…" Dodger's voice wobbled, and for a moment he feared that he'd lose control all over again, "Last night was a mess; I'm not going through that again. It's all over, Rita. Don't try and make me talk about it." Scared of finding himself back in that dark place, he got to his feet and made to walk off. He had to force the thoughts of his mother out of his mind; he had to get away from Rita's attempts to help. "Not a word to anyone else, got it?" It came out harsher than he intended, and he could tell from the look on her face that he'd hurt her feelings, but in that moment he really didn't care- he just had to get away.
Rita stared after him as he stormed off. "Dodge…" The feeling of being completely powerless to help was hard to take. Seeing Dodger in such a bad way the night before had shaken Rita deeply- he'd always been so together, never one to get down. More than anything she wanted to be there for him; as he had always been there for her, but she knew she couldn't force the matter. She let him go, and feeling miserable, got to her feet to head out into the city streets. There was little to do except to try and carry on as normal; she couldn't let on to anyone else that there was a problem, not without making the situation ten times worse. It occurred to Rita that she'd better find Scout to make up for letting him down the night before, but she didn't want to face him. If she was honest, she didn't really care about his petty concerns that she was being a poor girlfriend, and she was in no mood to be lectured… her mind was on Dodger. Why wouldn't he let her be there for him?