Gunslinger: The B Sides

I tapped my foot anxiously against the soft gym floor as I stared up at the stage. My eyes focused on Ryan, of course, who was dressed up in a little button up shirt and black pants. On impulse, I looked back toward the doors to the gymnasium though it was dimly lit, searching for Brian again. Sure enough I watched his familiar figure swagger up the aisle between the two sections of seats, and I raised my hand discreetly to show him where I was. He nodded at me, and awkwardly shuffled down the row of seats, past other parents. I watched him all the while, eyes trained on his flushed face. His cheeks were red, under his eyes a little raw, so I knew the news couldn't be good. I squirmed in my seat as he sat down next to me. He didn't even look over at me, just stared up at the singing children on the stage.
"Brian." I whispered, my voice rife with desperation as I grabbed his tattooed hand. His head snapped to me, as if I had startled him. Those warm brown eyes of his looked bloodshot. I squeezed slightly, urging him to say more.
"They uh....couldn't.....He's um....." He murmured, as he blinked and his eyes met mine. My eyebrows knit in the middle, and I clapped a hand over my mouth. Tears flooded my eyes immediately, while Brian pulled his hand from mine so he could reach his arm around my shoulders. I let him pull me into his side a little, as I swallowed back a sob and withdrew my hand from my mouth as we looked up at Ryan. Though he should have been singing, he waved at us. Brian waved back, and I attempted to smile.
I didn't know how to tell our son that Duke wouldn't be there when we got home. As far as Great Danes went, he'd had a pretty good life up until a couple weeks ago. Brian and I noticed when our nearly ten year old dog wouldn't jump up onto our bed, like he did almost every other night. Brian helped him, but Duke just didn't seem right, instead he seemed like he was in pain. It happened again the next night, and Duke just gave up and slept on his bed in the corner of our room. Then the whole next day, Brian was home from the studio and said that Duke didn't move at all, not for food or treats. So we scheduled an appointment with my dad, for the next day.
Apparently it hadn't gone well. At the end of the concert, a few parents flagged us down for some small talk as we waited for our kids. Brian stayed mostly quiet, looking around absently as he held my hand in his, our fingers twined. Once a couple had walked away from us, I turned to Brian and asked what had happened. He shook his head.
"They said it could be something with his hip, y'know so I talked to your dad and he was like 'Well we could go ahead and put him under to scope it out yadda yadda'," He rolled his hand in a circle as he spoke, "And I said alright do it 'n'......" His head bowed, so he looked at our shoes, then he shrugged and shook his head, "They knocked him out and he didn't wake up." Brian finally looked back up at me when he said that, his lips pressed together, "It's my fault, Deziree, I sho-"
"No, Brian, don't..." I shook my head rapidly, cutting him off in his wrong assumption, "I would've done the same exact thing." I whispered, and stepped in quickly to wrap my arms around his torso. He let out a deep sigh as he embraced me in return, his hand rubbing gently against my back.
"What are we going to tell Ryan?" He murmured against my hair. I inhaled deeply, and pulled away, running a hand over my forehead as I shrugged.
"I don't know." I answered earnestly, turning around when I heard some distinctly childish voices. The crowd of kids that sang in the little thrown-together choir all paraded out into the lobby, and as everybody clapped, they dispersed to find their parents. Brian set his hands on my shoulders as I moved between a few people so Ryan could see us better. Moments later, he ran toward us, and Brian stepped up next to me. Ryan ran right to him, and Brian swept him up in his arms.
"Good job buddy, you woulda made your uncle Matt proud." Brian grinned, genuinely it seemed, as he held Ryan in his arms. Ryan smiled too, glad to hear that apparently. He had been telling everyone about the concert all last week, and when we stopped by the studio, Ryan insisted on telling Matt all about it. He even asked if Matt would go to see him sing, because he knew Matt was a singer of some sort, and wanted to impress him. It was adorable, of course.
"Did he come?" Ryan asked hopefully as Brian set him back down, keeping his tattooed hands on his son's shoulders. I bent down to kiss him on the head, and ruffle his hair before the three of us began to move towards the doors in the crowd.
"Nah, he's wrapping up some stuff at work," Brian replied, looking over everyone else's heads. Ryan knew Brian's 'work' was making music, and that was about it, "Next time though, little man." For a moment, I forgot that we'd have to explain to him when we got home that our dog had passed away.
In the dark quiet of the car, though, I couldn't think of anything else. That dog, while I had got him for Brian, had been through a lot with me. To Boston and Back. He had been great when Ryan was born, he even started sleeping in the boy's room for a while. He was never really too spastic or violent or anything, but he did like to bark at a lot of stuff, which made him a decent guard dog. My last thought was that I didn't even get to say goodbye.
Luckily, Ryan was sitting behind me, or he would have seen me clamp a hand over my mouth as a few tears seeped out of my eyes. Brian glanced over at me, took one hand off the wheel to take one of mine, squeezing hard. I just looked out the windsheild as the stop light turned green and Brian hit the gas.
At home the house was silent. The kitchen light was on, and that was it, and that would be it because after we sent Ryan up to bed, we went back downstairs and I cracked open a bottle of wine. I got out a wineglass for myself, that had a considerably large bowl. Filling it nearly to the brim with pinot noir, I glanced over at Brian as he walked into the kitchen, running a hand over his hair.
"Did he ask?" I kept my voice down as if Ryan could still hear us, and set down the bottle of red wine. Brian raised his eyebrows as he approached me at the counter, taking the bottle in his hand.
"He asked where Duke was," He mumbled, before taking a generous swig, "And I told him he was gone for a while....I don't even know what the fuck I even said. Mostly bullshit." He shook his head, but I stayed quiet and took gulps of my wine. Just inside of my peripherie, Duke's bowls sat on the floor at the end of the island. Tears rose in my eyes again, and I brought the wine glass to my lips.
"Can you take his stuff out tonight?" I murmured, looking up at him furtively. Brian sighed, his eyebrows knitting as he looked at my glassy eyes. He stepped near me, so we were nearly pressed together, and lay a hand against the back of my head.
"Of course baby," He whispered, kissing my forehead, "I'm sorry this happened." He murmured, lips still pressed into my skin. I just leaned into him, wine balanced carefully in my hand.
"Don't be. He was getting old, this shit happens I guess...." My voice was broken and watery at the end, but I couldn't help it.
Brian just kissed my forehead again before I pulled away from him to take another drink of my red.
"Um....." Brian turned back to the island, then, running his fingers over his mouth, "I wanted to keep this......" He pulled out one of the drawers; the utility one that we kept screwdrivers and tape in, and took something out of it. What, I couldn't see, because his broad back faced me. But I heard a tell-tale familiar jingle, and sighed. He'd saved Duke's collar. I set my wine glass down on the counter as Brian turned back around, the leather collar in his hands.
"Oh god..." I sighed, feeling helpless as he handed it over to me, the tags clinking. I looked at the shiniest one. It wasn't that new, maybe a year or so old. He used to have tag with my name, number, and Boston address on it, and only a little while ago did we change it. Even then it was only for the address. I ran my fingers over the leather, then looked at the tag
DUKE
66 SATSUMA BLVD.
(657)396-2439
"Thank you." I muttered quietly, and set that to the side, picking up my wine glass in it's place. I took a long drink, then set that to the side as well as I looked up at Brian, "I'm gunna miss him." I nodded, my voice now normal, level, though their were still unshed tears in my eyes.
"I am too." The corner of Brian's mouth quirked up in a half smile, and I wondered what could possibly be making him smile.
"What?" I asked, almost snapped, but not quite. Brian shook his head, running his fingers through his hair.
"Nothing, just thinkin about how much I'll miss waking up to the chews he'd bury in the comforter." His smile grew a little, and I chuckled at the fond memory. Duke would paw and paw and paw the covers back and nose at them till he got them up so he could essentially 'bury' his rawhides. Then we'd wake up in the morning with the chews at our feet.
I nodded my agreement.
"He was good." I nodded again, and looked at the tile as I took yet another drink of my wine.
That night we stayed up well into the morning, watching videos we had taken with Duke right after Brian's birthday. There was a lot of laughter, a lot of tears on my end.