Step Into Forever
Juliana Crespo
 
First, there was this: Claudia cuddling with Diego on the sofa at her mother’s; her massaging his sleek canine form until he arched with pleasure; her cupping his large face between her palms and gazing deep into his cocoa-dusted eyes.  He tried to lean forward to lick her, and she laughed, play-held him in place.  Then she packed her things into the car, readying for the long drive home.  He followed her outside, his tail wagging, a long, golden extension of pleasure.            
 
You’re staying here this time, Claudia whispered, pausing to kiss him on the nose as she led him back inside.   
 
The plan was to leave Diego with her mom.  Since Claudia had started college and work, Diego had been cooped up in her house for hours at a time.  This wasn’t a life for a four-year-old Akita mut, she’d told herself.  Still, he’d been her only companion these last couple of years.  She was accustomed to waking up in the middle of the night with him sleeping beside her, his chest rising up and down like a slow-moving tide.  
 
Before she left, Claudia tucked her face into his fur, the smell of dirt and sweet dog oddly pleasing.  It wasn’t until she got in the car that the premonition flashed before her — lights flashing and blood.  Paranoid, she muttered to herself as she blinked and looked up to find him staring at her through the window, his nose pushed up against the glass.  Still, it would be so easy to grab him right now, call her mom from the road later. 
 
But her mom had been especially lonely lately, and besides, she had so much more time on her hands to take care of Diego.
 
Paranoid, she tried convincing herself once again as she turned on the car.  Just her fear manifesting in its own strangled way.            
 
~        
 
The next morning, the phone’s shrill ring startled Claudia awake.  She’d barely mumbled hello into the phone before the man began speaking quickly.  The words came in and out like a broken song: hit by a car — he’s dead, ma’am — I’m so sorry, ma’am — he just ran right across the freeway like the happiest dog I’d ever seen. 
 
How did you get my number, she whispered, thinking this was a dream.  The man cleared his throat and said, Diego’s collar.  That’s when she knew this was real.  Her hands began to shake, and she bit the tender insides of her cheeks so hard, she tasted blood.  She shook her head again and again, even as she breathed an apology into the phone, not sure why she was saying sorry.  The man said sorry too, mentioned something about having lost a dog this way too.      
 
After their conversation, Claudia called her mom, sobbing.  Honey, he just slipped out, her mom said, her voice barely contained, almost hysterical.  I think he was looking for you, she added, and then she started crying too.               
 
Only after they’d gotten off the phone would Claudia realized that Diego hadn’t done anything surprising, not really.  He’d always run after her, showed up at her friends’ homes after having somehow gotten out of their yard and traced her scent.  She’d never been able to get angry with him.  “You know better,” she’d chastise him, laughing while he tap-danced at the sight of her.  She’d take his paws in her hands and squeeze them, and then they’d go on a walk together, sometimes home, sometimes to the dog park.   
 
Remembering this, Claudia had the sudden instinct to leave.  She threw on her coat and began walking the short distance to the dog park.  The sky hovered between gray and blue like it couldn’t decide what it wanted to be, and the trees were dressed in mahogany and gold.  The park was crowded — people talked in tight clusters while dogs skirted around their legs.      
 
She made her way to the top of a small hill where she could be alone.  She understood now that she’d apologized to the man because she’d known Diego was going to die, and yet she’d done nothing.  At the top of the hill, she stopped and closed her eyes, the grief and guilt pulling her into their melancholic embrace.      
 
When she opened her eyes, she saw the sunlight sluicing through the clouds, and that’s when the memory came to her. She’d been standing right here, holding a mug of sweetened coffee, her sweater wrapped around her like a friend’s warm hug. The sun unapologetically spilled over the grassy plains, the mountains serene in the distance. Diego ran alongside the other dogs, his eyes bright. Every now and then, he danced his way over to her and halted at her feet, his tongue dangling, bubble gum pink. She shooed him, said, “Go, go do what dogs do.” He licked her hand before taking off again, soaring across the park like all he wanted was this moment, splayed open like something precious and free. 

Claudia sighed, her heart still aching. The grief and guilt would remain for a long time, steady companions. But as she turned to walk back down the hill, she couldn’t help but notice the dogs spinning out their tricks — they were flying across the air, chasing their own tails, calling to one another with their happy barks, reminding her that there was only this for them, the forever of now.










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About the Author: Juliana Crespo’s work has appeared or is forthcoming in North American Review, Literary
Orphans, Flash Fiction Magazine, Mothers Always Write, Mud City Journal, Ruminate, Fiction
Southeast, and OTV. She is an English teacher at a high school in Bloomington, Indiana, where
she also lives with her family.

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