Rusty

The chill of the air outside appeared as frost on the glass on my window. The crystallization formed mazes in each pane that I mentally tried to find my way through. I hit a dead end each time, forcing myself back to the page of math equations in front of me. The fractions and decimal points sprawled across the paper looked so uninviting compared to the winter scene unfolding outside my window. I sighed, and wrote my name in the best print I could muster, Emilia K.

I never met another girl named Emilia, but I always signed my last initial just in case, like all the Ashleys and Johns did in class. I was Emilia K., and I’m sure there is an Emilia C. or Emilia R. out there somewhere, and maybe someday they would attend Daniel Memorial Elementary School. I really wanted to meet another Emilia, but I doubt that Emilia would really be like me.

My chest pressed uncomfortably up against the desk, forcing me to roll my wheelchair back against the edge of the shag rug on the floor. After adjusting my posture, I grasped my pencil and set to work on my math problems as best I could. The addition and subtraction problems were no match for me; I could do those since the second grade. This paper had multiplication and division, and I always forget when you’re supposed to use the reciprocal. I would ask Mrs. Delaney first thing Monday morning. She never forgot anything about fractions. I guessed at answers more than Grammy would have liked, but she didn’t know when to use the reciprocal either.

I found myself gazing outside again, now past the frost on the window directly at the tree by Grammy’s driveway. All the leaves had fallen and left with autumn, exposing the bare branches and birds’ nests. The grass in Grammy’s yard died for the season, leaving behind a mat of prickly blades, except around the base of the tree. There you could still see the barren dirt, and somewhere, a yellow stepping stone with a paw print on the surface lay out of my sight.

The pawprint belonged to Rusty, the best friend I ever had. Rusty’s coat was thick and shaggy, composed of a mosaic of brown and red swirls of fur. His nose was always cold and wet when he nuzzled my face and if any dog could smile, Rusty could. Daddy always told me he was a puny mutt, but he was just big enough to reach over the sides of my chair with his paws and nudge my arm. This was our secret sign, letting me know it was time for fetch, or digging or whatever adventure he planned for us that day. Rusty barked at squirrels and mailmen like my dad every time they hustled down our driveway. He chased his own tail no matter how many times I told him he would never catch it, and he slept in my bed every night. I wish I never had my accident, but I’m glad it gave me Rusty.

I don’t recall much about my accident. I remember waking up that morning, and being so excited because the training wheels were coming off my bike as soon as Daddy got home from his mail route. That morning dark clouds loomed on the skyline, and I got to wear my rain boots to school for the first time that year. They were new, and squeaked across the kitchen floor as I made my way out to Mom’s old sedan. And that’s it. That’s all I remember about that day. I know what happened now, but not because of my own memories.

My mom said we drove to school like any other day, and listened to the funny show on the radio we both liked. Really, it was for grown-ups, but I promised not to tell Daddy. She said my rain boots rubbed blisters on the back of my heels, and I whined about it the whole car ride. When we were almost to school, she told me to quit complaining and loosen the straps on the sides of my boots. I stretched down, but couldn’t reach past my knees, so I unfastened my seatbelt and fiddled with the clasps. The plastic was new and wouldn’t bend as I yanked on the straps in frustration. I was happy when Mom threw those rain boots away, they really were terrible.

Something went wrong with my Mom’s brakes, and she told me over and over again that she tried to stop the car but she could not. I believed her, because she always stopped at red lights and never tried to speed through the yellow ones. Our car screeched into the middle of the intersection, where another car hit us at full speed, sending us straight into a tree on the side of the road. Emergency workers found my mom inside the car, tangled in the airbag. They found me on the ground outside, laying in the pieces of broken windshield in front of the car.

My mom told me I laid in the hospital for almost a week before I woke up. I never realized someone could sleep that long, but after the nurse told me what happened, I understood why I needed so much rest. When I crashed through the windshield, my back cracked squarely across the hood of the car, snapping some of my vertebrates along the way. I hit my head on the ground, fracturing my skull. I’m grateful I cannot remember any of this.

I was sore when I woke up, but not my legs. Not my feet and not my hips. I could see my feet, but when I shut my eyes, they disappeared. I still feel that way every morning when I wake up, as though part of me tip toed out of my room and vanished over night while I was dreaming.

I felt empty, when I thought about my legs. They hung from my torso like spaghetti noodles, limp and heavy against the rest of my body. I learned how to get along without them, thanks mostly to Grammy, and Rusty could always help me out. He even knew how to get soda pop out of the fridge, but I could still do that myself, with some fancy maneuvering of my chair.

“Emilia, are you doing your homework?”

I turned around to see Grammy standing in the doorframe, wearing her worn moccasins, and a lengthy topaz night gown that hugged her middle tightly. Her glasses were falling so far down her nose that it seemed they were bolting from her face. Her expression was stern, and the wrinkles on her face seemed hardened as she stared over my shoulder at my mostly empty math sheet.

I looked up at her with the sweetest face I could muster. “Grammy, do you know when to use the reciprocal?”

“Oh Emilia,” she laughed, and a smile cracked away the toughness of her face. “Unless you’re asking me questions about how to make a garden grow, you know Grammy won’t have the answer.”

“Maybe mom or dad will know when they get home from work… I’ll try my hardest until then , but…”

“Emilia.” Grammy cooed, “I bet if you ask Mrs. Delaney Monday morning, she’ll be able to tell you better than any of us. Your homework can wait until then.”

I nodded to Grammy, and looked back outside the window. The wind rustled the dead grass as it gained speed, and the sky was stark white, preparing to burst with snowflakes at any second.

“Are you looking at Rusty, hon? “

“Yes. I imagine Rusty is really cold out there, he’s never been left out in the snow before…” I looked down at my feet, trying my best not to let Grammy know how little pins and needles poked at my heart everytime I said Rusty’s name.

I felt my chair roll back, and one of Grammy’s hand pressed gently against my shoulder. She pushed me over the fabric of the rug and out of my bedroom, and down our narrow hallway. She stopped in the living room, where a fire below the mantle crackled and smelled just like winter should. Grammy’s moccasins clicked against the old green tiles on the floor as she went to the closet and got a blanket I hadn’t seen in months from the very top shelf, where not even Rusty could have reached.

I never remembered how coarse the fabric was, almost like burlap, until Grammy wrapped the blanket securely around my shoulders. Tiny dog bones of all different colors formed a mosaic on the blanket, and in the very middle I had written Rusty in big, black letters, so he would always know which blanket was his.

Tears welled up in my eyes, and I said nothing to Grammy as she wheeled me out the door, and beneath all the barren trees. I knew where she was taking me, and I shut my eyes tightly, afraid of what I may see.

“Sometimes dogs die for no good reason, Emilia. Sometimes sweet little girls are in horrible car accidents for no reason,” Grammy’s voice cracked, but she continued on. “Sometimes, bad things happen to the best people… or dogs, and you can’t explain it. I sure can’t explain it.”

Grammy wrapped her arms around me from behind, and even though the snowflakes started falling down from the sky, I felt the warmest I had felt in a very long time. Now safely in Grammy’s embrace, I felt confident enough to peek out of the corner of my eye. There, right in front of me, was Rusty’s bright yellow stepping stone. His paw print was so close to me I could almost feel him jump up on my arm like he used to, and I imagined the sound of his tail beating happily against my chair. The snowflakes began to fill the indentation of his paw, as the snow thickened.

“Rusty isn’t cold, Emilia. Beneath that stepping stone is a pile of bones, and that’s it. Rusty is somewhere else, somewhere dogs like to be… somewhere with mailmen to chase and lots of holes to dig in gardens. Something bad happened to Rusty, but Rusty was a very good dog, Emilia, and God watches out for those of us who are good.”

I smiled to myself, as I thought of Rusty playing somewhere he could be happy. Grammy may not know much about reciprocals like Mrs. Delaney did, but she knew all about the important stuff.

“Do you think it would be ok, if I put Rusty’s blanket on my bed?” I was so scared Grammy would say no, say that Rusty’s blanket had to stay in the darkness of the closet forever, where I could never reach it when I needed it.

“I don’t see why not. I think Rusty would want you to have it more than anyone else, Emilia.”