Elizabeth hadnโt had a pet before and she wasnโt sure she had one now. Six-Thirty wasnโt human, but he seemed to possess a humanity that far surpassed what sheโd found in most people.
Thatโs why she didnโt buy him a leashโit seemed wrong. Insulting, even. He rarely strayed far from her side, never crossed the street without looking, didnโt chase cats. In fact, the only time heโd ever bolted was on the Fourth of July when a firecracker exploded right in front of him. After hours of worried searching, she and Calvin finally found him tucked behind some trash cans in an alleyway, shaking in shame.
But when the city passed its very first leash law, she found herself reconsidering the idea, although for more complicated reasons. As her attachment to the dog grew, so too grew the idea of attaching the dog to her.
So she bought a leash and hung it on the coatrack in their hallway and waited for Calvin to notice. But after a week, he still hadnโt.
โI got Six-Thirty a leash,โ she finally announced. โWhy?โ Calvin asked.
โItโs the law,โ she explained. โWhat law?โ
She described the new law and he laughed. โOhโthat. Well, that doesnโt apply to us. Itโs for people who donโt have a dog like Six-Thirty.โ
โNo, itโs for everyone. Itโs new. Iโm pretty sure they mean business.โ
He smiled. โDonโt worry. Six-Thirty and I pass the precinct almost every day. The police know us.โ
โBut thatโs about to change,โ she insisted. โProbably because thereโs been a surge in pet deaths. A lot more dogs and cats are getting hit by cars.โ She didnโt know if this was factually true, but it seemed like it certainly could be. โAnyway, yesterday I took Six-Thirty out on a walk and used the leash. He liked it.โ
โI canโt run with a leash,โ Calvin said, glancing up. โI hate feeling tethered. Besides, he always stays right with me.โ
โSomething could happen.โ โWhat could happen?โ
โHe could run out into the street. He could get hit. Remember the firecracker? Itโs not you Iโm worried about,โ she said. โItโs him.โ
Calvin smiled to himself. It was a side of Elizabeth heโd never seen before: a mothering instinct.
โBy the way,โ he said, โthereโs lightning in the forecast. Dr. Mason calledโrowingโs been canceled the rest of the week.โ
โOh, thatโs too bad,โ she said, trying not to sound relieved. Sheโd rowed in the menโs eight four times now, and each time it had left her more exhausted than she cared to admit. โDid he say anything else?โ She didnโt want to sound like she was fishing for a compliment, but she was. Dr. Mason seemed like a decent man; he always spoke to her as an equal. Calvin had mentioned he was an obstetrician.
โHe mentioned weโre in the lineup for next week,โ Calvin said. โAnd that heโd like us to consider a regatta in the spring.โ
โYou mean a race?โ
โYouโll love it. Itโs fun.โ
Actually, Calvin was pretty sure she might not love it. Racing was stressful. The fear of losing was bad enough, but there was also that knowledge that the row itself was going to hurt, that once the word โAttention!โ was called, the rower would risk heart attack, cracked ribs, lung donationโwhatever it tookโjust to earn that dime-store medal at the end. Coming in second? Please. It wasnโt called first loser for nothing.
โSounds interesting,โ she lied. โIt really is,โ he lied back.
โ
โRowing was canceled, remember?โ Calvin said two days later, surprised to sense Elizabeth getting dressed in the dark. He reached for his alarm clock. โItโs four a.m. Come back to bed.โ
โI canโt sleep,โ she said. โI think Iโll go into work early.โ
โNo,โ he begged. โStay with me.โ He pulled at the covers and motioned her back in.
โIโll put that potato dish in the oven on low,โ she said, slipping on some shoes. โItโll make a good breakfast for you.โ
โLook, if youโre going, Iโm going,โ he said, yawning. โJust give me a few minutes.โ
โNo, no,โ she said. โYou sleep.โ
He woke an hour later to find himself alone. โElizabeth?โ he called.
He padded his way to the kitchen, where a pair of oven mitts sat on the counter.ย Enjoy the potatoes,ย sheโd written.ย See you soon xoxoxo E.
โ
โLetโs run to work this morning,โ he called to Six-Thirty. He didnโt actually feel like going on a run, but that way they could all ride home together in one car. It wasnโt because he cared about saving gas; it was because he couldnโt stand the thought of Elizabeth driving home alone. There were trees out there. And trains.
Sheโd hate it if she knew how much he worried and fussed, so he kept it to himself. But how could he not fuss over the person he loved more than anything, more than seemed even possible? Besides, she fussed over him tooโmaking sure he ate, constantly suggesting he run indoors with Jack, buying a leash, of all things.
Out of the corner of his eye he spied some bills and made a mental note to file the latest crop of flimflam correspondence. Heโd gotten yet another letter from the woman claiming to be his motherโThey told me youโd died,
she always wrote. Heโd also gotten one from an illiterate who claimed Calvin had stolen all his ideas, and another from a so-called long-lost brother who wanted money. Oddly, no one had ever written pretending to be his father. Maybe because his father was still out there, pretending heโd never had a son.
Since heโd left the boys home, the only other person, besides the bishop, to whom heโd ever admitted his father grudge, wasโof all peopleโ a pen pal. Heโd never met the man but theyโd managed to establish a strong friendship. Maybe because, like confession, they both found it easier to talk to someone they couldnโt see. But when the subject of fathers came upโ this was after a year of steady no-holds-barred correspondenceโeverything changed. Calvin had let it drop that he hoped his father was dead, and his pen pal, apparently shocked, reacted in a way Calvin hadnโt expected. He stopped writing back.
Calvin assumed heโd crossed a lineโthe man was religious and he was not; maybe hoping your father was dead wasnโt something one admitted in ecclesiastical circles. But whatever the reason, their tรชte-ร -tรชte was over. He felt depressed for months.
Thatโs why heโd decided not to mention the fact of his undead father to Elizabeth. He deeply worried that sheโd either react like his ex-friend had and drop him, or suddenly wake up to what the bishop had once described as his fatal flaw: an innate unlovability. Calvin Evans, ugly both inside and out. Sheย hadย turned down his marriage proposal.
Anyway, if he told her now, she might question why he hadnโt told her before. And that was dangerous because she might ask herself whatย elseย had he left out?
No, some things were better left unsaid. Besides, sheโd kept her work troubles to herself, hadnโt she? Having a few secrets in a close relationship was normal.
He pulled on his old track pants, then rummaged in their shared sock drawer, his mood lifting as he caught a whiff of her perfume. Heโd never been one for self-improvementโnever even gotten through Dale Carnegieโs book about making friends and influencing people because ten pages in he
realized he didnโt care what anyone else thought. But that was before Elizabethโbefore he realized that making her happy made him happy. Which, he thought, as he grabbed his tennis shoes, had to be the very definition of love. To actuallyย wantย to change for someone else.
As he bent down to tie his laces, his chest filled with something new. Was it gratitude? He, the early orphaned, never-before-loved, unattractive Calvin Evans, had, by hook or by crook, found this woman, this dog, this research, this row, this run, Jack. It was all so much more than heโd ever expected, so much more than he ever deserved.
He looked at his watch: 5:18 a.m. Elizabeth was sitting on a stool, her centrifuges on full spin. He whistled for Six-Thirty to come meet him at the front door. It was a little over five miles to work, and running together, they could be there in forty-two minutes. But as he opened the door, Six-Thirty hesitated. It was dark and drizzly.
โCome on, boy,โ Calvin said. โWhatโs wrong?โ
Then he remembered. He turned back, grabbed the leash, bent down, and clipped it to Six-Thirtyโs collar. Securely connected to the dog for the very first time, Calvin turned and locked the door behind him.
He was dead thirty-seven minutes later.