 PUPPY DOGS' TAILS
by Deirdre Maultsaid
We looked at our tires, a
calendar and our cheque-book. Maybe we could make it to Ontario in three days, visit my
husband's sick father, see the job situation and be back before the next unemployment stub
was due. In the rush, we forgot Josh's stuffed dog so Josh whined which pushed Ryan to
burst out that he hated all the toys piled between them in the back seat. The boys were
finally pacified with juice boxes, then restaurant pancakes in Golden, then extra
sweatshirts.
Travelling in a car sometimes,
protected, together, suspended in time and in between places, our hearts can suddenly
sing. Secrets and dreams wake up and can be spoken out loud. If only Josh and Ryan would
sleep forever, my husband and I could really talk! Instead, as streamers of mist rose up
the gloomy, darkening mountains beside us, as the heater blasted over our feet and as the
boys' eyes closed, we started picturing scary events. What if we saw a car crash? Get to
the police. If we drove over a cliff? Grab a kid and jump out. Would that really work?
As we climbed through the Rockies and into the night,
my husband's fantasies got more sleazy. He asked the questions. I answered. If you were
the prisoner of a psychopath? Talk him down. If he buried you alive in a box? Dig my way
out. If he raped the kids? I don't know.
"Think about it," my husband demanded.
"I don't have to."
He turned to me, "Don't worry. I would save you
all."
"Whatever you say."
We were silent then. I handed him a cup of coffee from
the thermos. Deep sleep made the faces of the boys yellowish and still in the lights of
oncoming cars. We kept floating forward.
It was late, somewhere outside Calgary, our car alone
on a stretch of highway, when all at once a glossy black dog ran out in front of us. We
hit it. The dog crawled and wormed out further in front of the car. Its terrible
shuddering made it impossible for the dog to stand up. Did I see blood splashing when it
shook its head? My husband opened his door and half leaned out of the running car. I
looked back at the sleeping boys.
"Just go, " I said.
"What are you talking about?" he asked.
"Go!"
He shut the door quickly, then put his foot down on
the gas pedal. I felt the thud. We went up and we went over. We kept going, floating east
in the night.
Much later, we whispered in the motel bathroom while
the kids slept in the next room. We considered how many more kilometres we could go
tomorrow. Together we drained the melting ice water from the cooler. From the way he kept
clearing his throat then, I think my husband was nearly ready to say something important.
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Fiction