Tribute Ch. 04

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The rain won't stop falling...
4.7k words
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Part 4 of the 5 part series

Updated 09/22/2022
Created 03/26/2013
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Note: It has been a while since I last thought about this story. This new piece may not be within the same tone as the other parts were, because life has changed a bit for me—and as such, my mood has too.

*

But above all, hopefully this will be a pleasurable read for those who have been looking forward to it.

And no, there are no parts with sex, yet. I'm working up to it. Patience is a virtue...and so is trying to write a credible plot.

I barely saw my breath disperse quickly as I ran.

The weather was colder now. Summer was slipping away.

Esquivo was right next to me, taking the easy jogging pace we often ran at. He had begun growing in his short, thick plushy coat. I was also finding those soft plushy hairs all over the furniture too—no matter how pretty they were.

Either way, he seemed somewhat satisfied as we ran. The only thing that could make this better for him is if the lead I was holding was not on him, and if a chicken ran by.

For a small moment I was lost in my run. My thoughts jumped frequently as I jogged onward. I guess that is probably why I never get bored of running, I think to myself. I can always find something to think about.

And soon I was back to thinking about my housemate.

Since my dream (or more precisely, dreams), I had tried to be politely professional with Beauregard.

It helped that he had a girlfriend already.

Beauregard had introduced me to her one of the nights I had off. He had been kind enough to have her come over when I was around for the first visit—to be sure Esquivo would be okay with her.

Esquivo was indifferent to her, just as she was to him.

Her name was Angela. She was the type of girl I could see Beauregard with: long wavy blonde hair, brown eyes, average height, and slight parts to her curvy body. Essentially she was what one could call the fraternity/sisterhood model.

I was not entirely sure about her brains yet. I didn't try to engage her in conversation. I just wasn't interested, and it was very clear that she felt the same way about me—if not a little more so. I couldn't tell if I had stepped on her toes already by not being friendlier. I wasn't even sure how to ask if I had.

Beauregard seems excited about her, and that is great for him. Apparently they met through his friends. She decided that she wanted to learn ASL.

Now she is here quite often. First it was once a week. Now it was almost every day.

I did my best to not be the third wheel.

I'm a home body. So, to give the two of them space to work on ASL (or whatever it was that they wanted to do), I began spending my free time helping the Jameson's.

Today I would be working on that huge pile of trash that has been sitting on this property since they moved here.

My aspirations are high, I know.

Even the small things I can do are a little helpful, and that is an unappealing job just waiting for a third wheel to take on.

I gradually eased my pace until I was walking. Esquivo took his liberties with every tree, post, bush, and grassy stem that looked like a viable marker for his territory.

With a quick stop at the house I grabbed one of Esquivo's long lines and switched him to it. He impatiently wait for me outside as I grabbed garbage bags and plastic gloves from under the sink, switched out my running shoes on the porch so I could watch the antsy-plotting canine, and soon walked over the half acre to the Jameson's house.

Mrs. Jameson, who was quick to tell me that everyone called her by her first name, Marian, would not probably be out quite yet. She was bordering on the frail side, and the cooler mornings were heckling her joints.

I tied Esquivo's lead to a tree near me as I eyed my foe.

The trash pile had been contained by rusty wire fencing. Its height was around six feet. All sorts of items lurked in its rotting depths.

I pulled on my gloves with a squeak that had Esquivo tilting his head, his tail patting the ground softly.

Before I start I pulled my cell phone from the rear pocket of my jeans (yes, I run in my jeans) to get some music going.

As I worked the music went through all sorts of genres. Classical, Soundtracks, Country, Soft Rock, and even some Pop. Mostly it was an array of music that kept me from giving up on this task.

I had filled around ten bags of trash when I saw Marian walking towards me. I could tell from here that it was definitely an inside day for her today.

I yanked my hand free from a glove to turn off my music.

"I can see that you've kept busy this morning," Marian commented as she eyed the garbage bags.

"Yep," I replied as I looked at all that was left of the trash—which didn't look as though I had even touched it yet. "It is a day I can spend outside with Esquivo while doing something."

"I think you've done plenty," Marian said, "how do you feel about a cup of hot tea?"

"That sounds good," I said before adding, "after a lot of soap and water."

"Ah, that is true. I'll give you some time to wash up first. I will get the tea kettle on."

I nodded in appreciation as I closed the garbage pen back up. Esquivo was ready for me to stop being such a drag and do something different now, so it was easy to wrap his lead across my shoulders so I could carry the trash to the area where the bins sat.

It took me three trips, the last being just the two bags (which was a relief to my arms). Esquivo couldn't believe I had tricked him into walking with me for such a dull chore.

The (almost) dreaded walk to my house left me almost in a prayer.

Please let there be no sight of fondling, clothes without people, or orgasmic groans coming from any part of the house as I quickly escape to the upper floor, I thought to myself.

I unraveled the lead from around myself as I ascended the stairs to the porch. Esquivo licked the door in his usual friendly way, as if licking the door would make it open faster.

Once we were both inside I tossed the gloves, ran upstairs, took that shower, changed clothes, and was back downstairs in less than half an hour.

"Okay Esquivo," I said quietly. He launched himself from the couch as a giggle erupted from a room downstairs.

I was beginning to feel like that cat.

You know the one I'm talking about. The one that has eyes like an owl, walks around like thumb tacks have been layered across the floor, and jumps at every noise. All because I was trying to desperately avoid a run-in with my crush and his girlfriend.

I was fumbling with Esquivo's lead clip like the man in Titanic with the keys to open the gate when I heard a louder burst of girlish laughter, which then abruptly dwindled off.

I gave that obligatory wave as I was leaving since Beauregard was waving kindly at me. Angela just stared at me, so I decided to not wave or say anything. She was utterly unimpressed that I was alive and living here in this house.

Without a look back at the door, I head over to the Jameson's. Marian was sitting out on the porch with a tea kettle set. It was so kind of her to have our visit outside, knowing that I had my ward to care for.

"That was quick," Marian said.

"Yes," I sighed, a little too heavily.

"Something the matter?" Marian asked. I could tell by the look on her face that it wasn't so much a question, as it was an observation—and she wanted to talk.

"Well..." I hem-hawed as I tied Esquivo's lead around my thigh; no way was he going to be missed this way. "I'm a quiet person, as you know."

"Yes, I know," Marian said pointedly while pouring two cups of tea, "and I can imagine Angela doesn't know what to make of you."

I nod as I reached for my cup of tea, to hold the heat of the cup in my hands.

"I can't believe he brought home a girl like that," she added in a disparaging tone.

"She hasn't done anything destructive to the house or anything," I said, in case Marian was worried.

"Hmm, as far as you know. You've only been in there to sleep lately—"

"—and shower. Sometimes I eat inside too," I add with a smile. She smiled too, which made me a little happier. I wanted our tea time to be a mellow moment.

Since the subject of Angela seemed to bother her, I kept throwing out other conversation pieces out there. But apparently the idea of Angela was clinging to her thoughts, because along the thread of re-shingling the roof of the barn, the subject Angela came up again.

"I mean, she just isn't marriage material," Marian said gruffly.

My eyebrows were raised high as I plot for a way to escape while I took a sip from the mug of tea I held. When I'd swallowed I said, "He is probably not planning on getting married to her. I mean, he is probably just dating her."

"Oh, I hope so, because I wouldn't want to break the news to his Mother, my daughter-in-law."

Wow. I was starting to feel a little sorry for the verbal beating Marian was giving about Angela. I hadn't spoken to the girl, but she was still human. Maybe Marian was just catching the girl at off moments.

I almost thanked God aloud when I saw the bottom of my cup. This had been one of the most stressful tea times I had ever had—despite my prodding about crocheting (which was a passion for the both of us) which could usually put us both as ease.

With Esquivo leading I waved a goodbye to Marian, wishing her a good day and good night, before heading back to the house.

Once inside I dished out a tablespoon of peanut butter for Esquivo. That was the closest version of ice cream that boy got. And after that meeting, he needed a good scoop. Heck, I needed a good scoop.

Instead I settled for a large cup of milk. Then with a good back rub for Esquivo, I head up to my room for an email check and then a nap.

Esquivo followed me, not so much out of loyalty, but to steal the best spot on the bed.

There were no important emails to reply to and the cup of milk was ingested quickly. I took some time to do some stretches before I sprawled atop my bed, eventually squiggling under the covers.

Esquivo was there for a while, lying over my pillow until he decided to hop off the bed and go downstairs.

In my sleepy state I figured he heard Beauregard moving about and decided he wanted to spend time with him for a while. With a few yawns I eventually drift off into sleep.

--------------------------------

The sky had been pretty much gray all day long, I thought as I began waking up.

That nap had been great—especially because I hadn't dreamt a thing.

Once I was on my feet I pulled out a thick hoodie for me to wear over the sweater I was already wearing. It felt a bit colder in the house, and I was planning to head outside to walk Esquivo around.

Thus is the schedule of the day off.

I felt that happy blah after sleep. No strong emotions; just refreshed.

"Ready for your walk Esquivo?" I asked as I grabbed his leash off the wall hook when I had made my way downstairs. I picked up a squeaky toy from the floor to play with Esquivo while outside.

Nothing.

"Esquivo?" I called again, a little louder.

Still nothing.

I pulled open the door and looked outside.

He wasn't on his yard chain.

"Esquivo?!" I called a little bit more anxiously.

"I let your dog out."

I turned to Beauregard's girlfriend. She wasn't looking at me as she text on her phone.

How long had she been around? Four to six weeks? Nearly every other day—right?

When she looked up at me, apparently my eyes were burning with some kind of hell fire, because she stepped back as though I was going to lunge at her.

It was amazing how quickly that sleepy feeling could go away.

"Did you put him on his lead?" I had an idea of what her answer was going to be.

"No"

I gave a laugh with sarcastic aggression cracking into my haze of red. "I'd better not see you when I get back," I mumbled, mostly to myself.

By the look in her eyes, I figured I would either be homeless when I got back—or that she would burn all of my things in the front yard. I didn't care which it would be.

Running outside, I stare across the fields for that pale coat. Nothing.

I ran towards the Jameson's barn, praying Esquivo wasn't getting into anything there either.

"Esquivo?"

My mind blurred into all the questions I asked myself, all the ones I could not answer.

-----------------------------

I turned towards the bounce on the bed. Angela's face contorts as she tries to become understood by me. With slightly bleary eyes I sit up. I could feel the tenseness of her arms as I put my hands on her upper shoulders for comfort and reassurance. I then moved to grasp a pad of paper from the nightstand for her to write in.

She scribbled furiously before turning it back to me.

"I let out the dog and your roommate is pissed at me. She's acting like I did something unspeakable."

My forehead fell as her words sunk in.

No. Oh God, I pray nothing bad happens. I wrote back that Angela had to leave.

"Wait. Why can't I stay?" Angela asked aloud. I wasn't going to get into this with her now. I ushered Angela out of my room, across the house, and out the front door. I picked up my cell and shook it in front of the window to let her know we could text later. She smiled and left.

I ran back to my room and dressed quickly. It wasn't until I was down the porch steps that I tied my shoes. After that I ran the path that Natasha jogged with Esquivo regularly.

----------------------------

I breathed deeply.

I was in the middle of some field that wasn't fenced. I'd passed through the small crop of forest bordering the Jameson's property, and was half-way through this field when I decided to stop.

Esquivo always came back. Working farms with farmers bordered this place though, and I wouldn't blame anyone for shooting (what looked to be) a wolf for chasing or killing cattle, chickens, sheep, or goats.

The former thought being the reason why I tried my best to keep him near. Mistakes happen, but I tried my best to prevent it from happening that way.

I let the swish of my jeans against the tall browned grasses fill my ears, and hopefully my mind. I don't know how much time had passed. The sky showed it was probably later in the day. I must have hiked a few miles out, I thought as I swung Esquivo's leash behind my neck to rest there while I trudged home.

I made a slight detour to the Jameson's house. I warned them about Esquivo. I also remind Mr. Jameson that if his livestock was at risk, that he could intervene. Mr. Jameson knew the farmers nearby well enough to be able to call and warn them too.

This was a small town. The only humane society was in another town. Since this was agriculture land it was nearly useless to post lost ads anywhere—unless some farmer was willing to hop off his combine to take a look at a small paper poster on an electricity pole.

I'm pretty sure that is the only time I'd ever had him rest his hand on my shoulder. He nods while watching my eyes. He knows that Esquivo is a friend of mine, and that this was no small conversation for me.

I left with no lighter a heart.

By the time I got back, Beauregard was sitting on the porch.

"I'm sorry—"He signed, but I raised a hand and nodded while continuing up the steps. I kept my gaze ahead of where I walked. I opened the door but stayed outside, tossing Esquivo's leash inside on the floor before closing the door. I turned around and walked to sit at the top of the porch steps.

Beauregard made the motions of saying sorry again. I turned to look at him.

"It's okay," I signed. I rest my elbows on my legs, and cupped my chin.

"No, it is not," he replied.

"I know it isn't. But, what's done is done. It's a fifty-fifty shot," I then crossed my arms before resting my upper body on them. I felt Beauregard rub my back with a free hand.

I sat back up, "I'm going back inside. Is Angela still around?" Inwardly I never wanted to see the idiot again, but if Beauregard was serious about her, I'd have to leave for Angela's own self safety.

It was amazing how my thoughts had also changed from silently defending her earlier to...this.

"No," Beauregard said. He looked angry at the mention of his girlfriend, but I didn't ask. Lovers quarrels weren't my kind of thing.

At least I could stay inside and not run into her though.

--------------------------

I went about making dinner for myself. I asked Beauregard if he wanted to eat with me, but he said he wasn't hungry.

I grabbed several types of fresh fruit to dice and eat for tonight. I left a small bowl full for myself and stored the rest in the fridge. I stood with my food in the place where the living room meets the kitchen. I could play Sudoku while snacking. I could watch Law and Order episodes.

My eyes steadied on the piano.

I set the bowl down on the bench next to me as I lift the lid. It folds and slides back until the top falls into its small groove beyond the keys.

I needed a pick me up.

With no particular order, or care to keep the songs separated, I began playing songs from Billy Joel, to Classical, to Disney, to anything that made me smile.

I was somewhere in the middle of "Les Poissons" when I glanced up to see Beauregard stepping outside. He didn't mention he was leaving, but I didn't take much notice of it. If he had wanted me to keep an eye or ear out for anything, he didn't tell me to.

In between songs, when my cubed fruit dinner was gone and I was putting the dish in the sink I heard Mr. Jameson's old truck in the driveway.

Kind of an unusual time for him to be leaving, I thought. I hope nothing bad happened to him or Marian. It was late in the day.

I slipped on my shoes to go take a peek, just to be sure. I saw that Mr. Jameson had backed his truck up onto the grass in between both the houses. Beauregard was digging a hole.

The air was cold as I breathed it in sharply while I sprint across the yard. Mr. Jameson put his hands up to stop me. "You don't want to see this Natasha."

"I can handle this Mr. Jameson," I replied. In truth I could. This wasn't the first time I had lost a pet to old age. Although in this case, it was an unnatural death, and it was going to hurt. But I needed the closure.

Mr. Jameson still held his hands up as though to block me.

"I'll be fine," I said. My tone was soft. Hurt.

"I'm sorry," Mr. Jameson replied.

"Are there any damages I should—"

"Don't you worry about that," Mr. Jameson said.

"He was my responsibility, and I—"

Mr. Jameson turned away while shaking his head. He really wasn't going to let me take care of whatever Esquivo had done.

I looked in the back of the truck through where the tailgate was down.

Esquivo's body lay sprawled across the bed. A pool of blood had trickled away from his body towards the cab and then later over the bumper. His back was towards me, so I couldn't see where the shot had been made, until I walked alongside the truck for a better look. A simple gunshot to the chest. Esquivo was most likely running when it had happened.

Beauregard was still shoveling, oblivious to me and Mr. Jameson's discussion.

I moved within sight of him, waving, "hey".

He stopped shoveling and propped the handle against his shoulder. "What are you doing out here?"

"I'm here to take care of my dog," I signed. In life or death I was going to do my best for Esquivo. I put a hand out towards the shovel, signifying that I would take on the shoveling now.

Beauregard stared at me for a few seconds, to the point that I mentally played back through my signs to know I hadn't screwed up what I was trying to say. Then he slowly hand me the shovel.

I worked on deepening the grave.

As I worked the sky continued to darken. It was dusk now, and this hole was not anywhere near completion.

But I kept at it. Beauregard just stood by, waiting around in case I wanted a break.

The skin on my palms burned with tenderness after however long I have been digging. My hands would be quite tender by tomorrow.

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