Short Story: “Dear Dusty…” (December 2020)

(boop)

---

Dear Dusty…

I know this is the kind of letter I should be saying to your face. But I wanted to thank you for Megumi. She’s not the Christmas gift I wanted, but the one I needed the most. She and Snicker and Doodle get along great even though they used to bark at each other all the time. And I wish we had them visit more before this.

There are a lot of things I should thank you for, huh? I guess those thanks may already have been said too, just with a nod and a hug. And it came up so rarely. It was hard living across state lines from you and not having a car.

But if you remembered anything, I want it to be the night we met, when my girlfriend broke up with me and it was the anniversary of my dad’s death anyways. The last of my paycheck went towards renting a cottage on the coast for a week and it was failing miserably. I wouldn’t be back in the mail room for another month.

I never told you the full story. I let you believe I was a shivering hobo in the dead of winter and take it from there. Only later did you post about getting evicted and I somehow thought it was time to talk about the mail room.

The house concert could be heard from three streets down. Who was even out this late at night besides me? You were smoking a cigarette outside, and I didn’t smoke, but in that moment I wanted to join. You were the only person who looked into my eyes from across the street.

“Hey, ever listen to Missionary Zeal?” You said it slowly as you drew out a line of smoke. I actually had discovered their Bandcamp two weeks before. It was an empty place that I thought no one had been to before. But you owned their vinyl. I was never that happy to see a superfan of anything.

I’m always gonna be sorry that I didn’t hear what you said most of the time there. I’m cherishing every word now and many of those are missing. Hell, I was lucky to get your name and Instagram handle. That moment felt like it changed my life.

What I like the most is that whenever we met again, it was spent in moments where we could forget about the world. And it was usually winter, when the mailroom closed and you always took vacation time. Our lives online weren’t an escape. Half my messages were complaining about my job and asthma. The other half was trauma and memes. We shared that half and it was hard reading it from you so I often didn’t. But it disappeared quickly when we lay in the snow and somehow didn’t feel it. We could always change the subject.

Of course, there was last year when I got the SnickerDoodle twins and you got Megumi. And it was hard taking a train to see the two of you, but I loved every trip. Especially our last one with the dogs. Maybe it was therapy, or avoiding the inevitable.

Your roommate was more distraught than you might have thought. He was always so cold when we met. When the news had to spread through three circles of friends before it got to me.

If you want to know what I was doing, I was about to leave for winter break and no one yarn-bombed the statue in the quad. I always shared pictures of that, and you always to learn how to knit. I was excited to show you.

Part of me was furious that you never called for help. The other half felt too small in all this, or like a moron. Like I changed the subject too much when your life got far less difficult than this. I can’t comfort myself by blaming your cousin or your roommate either. There is no use getting man about the dead.

Christmas was ruined well before that anyways. Winters were always going to be sad once we said our goodbyes for the season. If I was lost without my Dusty, then everyone else was. You knew plenty of people. That chapter of my life closing instead of remaining open like a gash to the belly should have been an upside. But I still have trouble with it.

I could barely pick up the phone when your dad called.

“The PD released Dusty’s last messages and will to us. They wanted us to have closure, and you to take Megumi…”

I could tell he was sad to see Megumi go. But in the end, you had your reasons. Sometimes I wondered if I was unique to you at all, and now I know the common thread: it’s a long strand of shih-tzu fur.

Your death has brought me sadness, and Megumi brings me more joy than anyone now.

They all love to chase each other at the campus, one dog behind the next behind the next. If I spent a lot of time thinking about how we could have been closer, I think the dogs did too about their once-fleeting friend. They feel in a way that we do. I’d move heaven and earth to lay on the cold beach with you and let the dogs run around. I’d even buy the beer this time.

Thank you, Dusty. Megumi makes this easier, in some way, especially on the long trip back home. I love petting her silky ears. The memories make it harder, but I wish I could thank you more for them.

Yours truly, and Happy Solstice. I hope you can see the snow where you are.

Ximena

---