Fate

1

Trini didn’t need to run anymore; her svelte body couldn’t have more than five percent body fat now, if that. But she grabbed the leash anyways, sparking Fate’s stirring on the linoleum floor where he lay with a full belly having just wolfed down his breakfast.

Matt had got her the black lab puppy for their first anniversary. She’d fallen in love with him immediately. The dog, that is, although it hadn’t taken long with Matt either. They’d decided to name him Fate since it‘s what brought them together; both Trini and Matt, and they and the dog.

The young lovers had been out to lunch that day, celebrating their exquisite year long honeymoon during the two week vacation they‘d taken for the special occasion, when a rogue mutt with her puppies in tow had wandered into the open-air sidewalk café in the quaint little town nestled snugly in the Vermont mountains.

The owner, distraught at trying to catch them all, had needed assistance and Matt had always been both a Good Samaritan and an animal lover. They’d managed to round up the friendly girl and her litter before the rambunctious octet caused too much grief in the old guy’s establishment. Unbeknownst to Trini, Matt had asked his newfound wrangling buddy what he thought about them keeping one of the mangy, yet adorable pups. The man had not only agreed, he’d been thrilled with the idea.

“One less puppy making its way to the pound, where the possibility of death after a dose of permanent sleeping juice awaits unadopted pets? Need you ask? Hell, that could only be a good thing, dontcha think?” the curmudgeonly old man had opined to Matt.

“A great thing, indeed!” Matt had affirmed exuberantly. “You have no idea what this will mean to her.“ And with a handshake, the deal was sealed.

She’d gotten the puppy she’d always wanted from the man she’d always wanted. “It’s fate,” Matt had said, with that same gleam in his eye, as he told her she could pick one.

She chose the runt of the litter, of course, and cradled the new addition into her ample bosom. “It’s fate,” she’d repeated.

“Well, hey there, Fate. How you doin’ there, little guy? Meet your momma,” Matt had crooned. And she’d just stood there crying, overwhelmed with joy.

The name had stuck.

2

He circled her legs in near hysteria now, knocking over the opened bottle of Poland Springs water she’d just grabbed from the fridge. It‘d been perched precariously on the edge and was no match for his muscular, coffee table clearing tail.

“My bad, Fate. Momma forgot to put the lid on.”

It seemed her thirst had been unquenchable since Matt left.

“Fetch my sneaks, boy,” she groaned, still half asleep.

Fate understood. He plopped down the first sneaker in front of her chair, waited for the obligatory “Good boy, where’s the other one?” remark, coupled with a quick scratch behind the ears for good measure, and bounded over to find its match from the assembly of shoes littering the corner.

A pair of heels for her stuffy profession. Her comfy half-chewed slippers. Her Sox flip flops for quick excursions to let Fate do his business. Plus the one remaining Reebok waiting for the retriever to complete his mission.

And Matt’s Reeboks still sat there.

So many choices, but such a smart dog. He’d learned quickly however, and knew the difference between his and hers.

Sit had been his first trick, of course, mastered easily after one day and a whole box of Meaty Bones. All the usual commands followed over the weeks to come, with the help of various doggie delicacies. Stay. Sit pretty. Lay down. Roll over. Stand up. Speak. Fetch.

He’d seemed particularly pleased with himself for mastering that last one. “Come!” was the only command he didn’t seem to comprehend. Or maybe he did and just loved his freedom too much; he was, after all, a damn smart dog.

She laced up the spoils of Fate’s labors like she’d done the last eighty-three mornings. It almost seemed like that movie “Groundhog Day” with Bill Murray in it. Same thing, over and over, no difference in the routine.

Five a.m., alarm goes off. Roll over. Realize Matt still isn’t there. It’s Fate’s breathing she hears upon waking now. Get up. Let the dog out to drain the night’s gatherings. Drain her own. Fill water bowl with tomorrow morning‘s evacuation. Fill dog dish with two cups of Iams puppy food. Throw on shorts, a Sox tee, her Sox baseball hat, and grab a bottle of water. Have Fate fetch the Reeboks. And then run.

It helped to take her mind off of Matt. And it was her penance.

3

She hadn’t always been this fit. The morning excursions had taken her down from a hefty two hundred pounds to her now slim physique of a buck twenty-five. She’d dropped seventy-five pounds already, in just about three months. Miraculous, really.

Matt would be proud of her, although he’d never complained about her weight. “I love you no matter what your size, baby!” he’d always said. She’d been heavy when they met, no thanks to her affinity for Ben & Jerry’s pints, but he’d fallen in love with her anyways. Hard to believe considering he was the epitome of good health.

He drank nothing but bottled water. He ran daily, training for the five and ten K marathons he enjoyed participating in throughout the year. He avoided trips to fast food outlets, although he’d accompany her when she went to get a Double Quarter Pounder meal, replete with a bigger butt in a cup, better known to the masses as a strawberry milkshake. He ate his bland salads with no dressing and never said a word. He didn’t even grimace if she devoured half a large Bacon and Pineapple pizza and then plopped her fat *** in front of the television to watch the ballgame. Flicking the remote to NESN to catch the game at seven sharp most nights had been her idea of athleticism, but he never complained. Not once during their entire courtship.

She’d been astounded when he asked her out after their final Psychology class. At first, she thought it must be some kind of senior graduation prank. She kept thinking Ashton Kutcher would be jumping out from the nearby garbage can to inform her she’d just been Punk‘d. But she didn’t have any friends that would punk her. In fact, she didn’t really have any friends, period. She was a loner. Her best friends were Ben & Jerry.

Matt had caught her eye on the first day of college, but he was a star jock, incredibly handsome, and she was sure he would be way out of her league. He’d date cheerleader types, or girls from one of the various University of Vermont sports teams; someone that shared his love of fitness, not a fat chick that couldn’t run to save her life. She’d never even considered that he’d be interested in somebody like her.

But apparently, it hadn’t been a joke. He’d approached her after class with a small porcelain figure in his hand. “Here. For you,” he said, holding out the memento. It was a tiny black lab dangling from a red string.

“A Christmas ornament? In May? What kind of drugs is he on?” she’d thought, and just stared dumbfounded at the trinket.

“It’s a lab,” he’d said, as if she must be a moron.

She could see that much. She wanted to know why he was giving it to her. She’d just gaped, open-mouthed, ready to catch any passing flies. She couldn’t even speak.

“Take it, Trini.”

He knew her name. How? Why? And what was the deal with this gift? If she’d been a cat, she’d be dead; curiosity about a porcelain dog would have done her in on the spot.

“Thank you, Matt,” she’d managed to utter, and held out her pudgy hand.

He’d placed the tiny dog in her upturned palm and smiled wide. “You’re more than welcome. It’s a token of my appreciation, and hopefully a bribe to get you to say yes to dinner with me this Friday.”

She’d had no idea what was happening. He’d obviously just asked the fat chick out on a date, but she couldn’t possibly fathom why. What had she done to garner appreciation in him? She hadn’t a clue.

4

She wasn’t a people person. In fact, she was about as inept in social situations as an elephant in a china shop. Writing was one thing. Oral communication was an entirely different animal.

If she’d been in her preferred environment, she’d have time to think of what to say, but in this instance, she’d been caught completely off guard.

“Okay,” was the only thing she’d managed to spit out.

She’d never been very good at spitting things out. Eating had become a passion. Hell, she’d be a gold medalist if there were an Olympic event for Ben & Jerry’s inhalation. But talking to guys, especially guys like Matt? Well, that came about as naturally as rocket science. In fact, she could probably handle rocket science far easier than this scenario.

“Great. That was way easier than I expected. You won’t be sorry Trini. I’ll meet you right here, in two days. 7:00 pm. I won’t be late, and neither will you. I gotta run to my next class. I’ll see you then. I promise, this is real. I’ll explain the gift. And don’t worry. You’re not being punked.”

He’d disappeared down the path, running between the Psych department and the Math Lab, and she’d stood there like a statue with the tiny lab perched on her palm, wondering how he could have possibly read her mind like that. She’d been stunned into silence, but all that had changed after the date.

They’d talked for hours, both on the date itself and over the course of the following year. How many more hours had they enjoyed each other’s conversation? Far too few was the obvious answer.

She’d been apprehensive about the whole thing. She’d barely slept a wink that night, and spent most of it on the computer, per usual, doing the same old things, but her curiosity was killing her. She’d set the tiny lab on the top of the computer stand and tried the best she could to not think about the date. No sense in worrying herself to death. What’s the worst that could happen? It’d be a joke, or he’d be mean to her? It’s not like the state of misery was an unfamiliar territory. “What the hell have you got to lose, woman!?” had been the logic she used to convince herself to show up. Plus, she might not have been a cat, but she wasn’t taking any chances. Curiosity could kill ya!

And so she’d gone, prepared for the worst.

5

Matt had arrived at 7:00 sharp with roses, white, her favorite. Only two. The first of many.

She’d taken them with slightly more grace than the tiny dog, at least smiling this time while saying thank you. She’d chosen to take the blunt approach, something she’d decided on while not thinking about the upcoming date.

“Look, I don’t mean to be rude, Matt. But what’s the deal here? You asked me out and I said okay because I was in shock. You’d just given me a gift for no reason. I’m a tad bit confused. I mean, you gotta admit, I’m not really your type.”

“Ah, but you are. And I’m yours. Am I not?” he said, with a gleam in his eye.

“Well, I don’t know you. How could I possibly know that?” she’d retaliated, not harshly, but more with a tone of cynicism and sarcasm.

“Yet!” he’d emphasized. “But I know you, Trini. Or should I call you Lost?” he’d queried in response.

And he’d been right, on the yet thing, and knowing her.

She understood everything at that moment. The two white roses, the tiny lab, the punked comment. It came into perfect clarity. Her plans flew out the window. She was again stunned into silence, except this time she held the roses instead of the lab.

He‘d expected this, continuing on, “You always wanted a lab. I couldn’t exactly bring you a live one, but I figured it was a good opening offer. Maybe someday we’ll get you a real dog. For tonight, I just want to take you out and let you get to know me. Talk to you, in real life. I feel like I know you already, but I have so many questions. I know this has gotta be overwhelming for you, but trust me, okay? I promise I have no ill intentions, no pressure. You never know, Lost. Maybe this is fate. What do you say? Let‘s go grab something to eat and talk. Please, Trini.”

What could she say? She was a sucker for a guy with manners, and he knew it. He knew her inner most thoughts and feelings. She didn’t think anybody had been paying attention, but she’d been wrong.

She’d joined the dating site with no intentions of finding a date. It merely passed the time, which she had plenty of before Matt came along. She used the medium to express herself, posting different profiles every few weeks about what kind of a guy she wanted, and describing her life to those that cared to know. She’d been honest and straightforward, something she couldn’t say about some of the people on those types of sites, but she didn’t see any reason to be dishonest. She was who she was, and while she didn’t believe that “THE ONE” actually existed, she’d fantasized about what it would be like to find him.

She’d done this in a public forum with the screen name Lost.

She’d posted her picture, so it hadn’t been hard for Matt to figure out who she was when he saw her on campus. She didn’t have the same luxury, as she didn’t know he’d been reading her stuff. They have this stealth mode thing, though she’d only tried it once. It made her feel like a peeping Tom, and ‘perving‘, as it was commonly referred to in this online world, wasn’t really her thing.

Sure, she checked out the profiles of the hot guys. She was, after all, still a woman. But she didn’t email them. The league thing came into play whether in real life or in a virtual world. She’d gotten a few messages, but generally, they were from men with strange names from foreign countries she’d never heard of.

That wasn’t what she was looking for. Mr. Perfect would be…well, she’d elaborated over the years in various forums depending on the topic at hand. You could really get to know someone by examining the things they said over time.

6

Her last entry on the Tuesday night before Matt asked her out, coincidentally the same night Matt signed up and found her profile in the local section, had been to a topic entitled ‘What will you do when Mr. Right comes along?’. Trini had replied that she’d think she was being punked, making Matt laugh.

Matt had learned about Trini by reading everything she’d ever wrote, and he’d admired her as a person. The fact that she had a few extra pounds hadn’t turned him off in the least. She was exactly the type of girl he wanted in his life. He was sick of the bimbos and arm candy. Sick of the shallow, unthinking, typical drama queens. Sick of the dating games and the dance.

He’d joined the site to try something new and different. Maybe if he could get to know someone online first, he could build the foundation for a solid relationship. Remove the physical part and what have you got left? “The important part,” he’d thought.

He’d checked the local users and found her profile. After exploring the site and discovering the forums, he’d been impressed after reading her previous posts. The girl was in his Psyche class for God’s sake, and he’d never thought twice to try to get to know her. There were tons of girls at college he never really thought twice about.

But here she was, on this site, and he’d been captivated by her words. He knew he had to ask her out on the final day of class. He’d come up with the perfect plan of giving her the trinket after seeing it in the window of a little gift shop he’d run by each morning. She’d posted ‘A black lab, for love and loyalty!’, in response to a topic entitled, ‘What do you really want? And why?’.

That answer had blown Matt away. Other respondents had listed material things; houses, cars, all the money in the world. Some listed altruistic things, like peace, end to war and famine, happiness. Many replied with a description of their perfect mate. Trini’s response spoke volumes in it’s simplicity. Lost, as she’d called herself online, just wanted to be found, and loved. Matt had known he’d been the man for the job.

7

It had been fate that they met. They’d joined a dating site and found each other. Well, actually, Matt had found Trini, but they’d found love, eventually. They’d become friends first, and then lovers, and then husband and wife. And then they’d celebrated their one-year anniversary and gotten Fate. And then eighty-three days ago, fate had intervened in the cruelest of ways.

They’d moved into a small house on a backcountry road after the wedding. Life was good. They smiled, and laughed, and loved each other. They played with the dog and teased each other relentlessly. It’d been perfect.

Matt had been getting ready to go to work, having just finished his morning run with Fate by his side. It was six thirty a.m. on a Friday. He’d thrown the Reeboks in the corner, taken his shower, gotten ready to go, grabbed his bottle of Poland Springs, and put on his work shoes like he did every morning. She’d gone to the door like she did every morning when he left, kissing him and telling him she loved him. And she had, with all her heart.

She missed him as soon as he was gone. She loved him that much.

She watched him start walking to the car, and then Fate had sneaked through her legs and bounded after him. He wanted to say one final good-bye to Daddy apparently. She’d smiled at that thought and followed him out, pointlessly saying “Fate, come. Fate, come.”

And fate had come.

A squirrel took off from a nearby tree, sparking Fate’s canine instinct. He’d bolted like lightening and the chase was on. They’d headed towards the road, past Matt, and at first, it was funny. But then she’d seen the pick-up coming. She’d screamed “Fate, NO! COME!” but he wasn’t listening.

She’d loved the dog from the day they got him. Matt had given him to her. Matt had given himself to her. And she didn’t know what she’d do without either one of them. It was instinct and instinct alone that made her yell the words she’d regret for the rest of her life.

“Matt, the truck…Fate. Run. Get him. I can’t run fast enough,” she’d bellowed, as her feet were trying to prove her wrong.

And he had.

He’d run like he’d never run before. He didn’t have his Reeboks on though. He had those damn slippery work shoes donning his fleet feet. He couldn’t gain ground very well, but he’d run nevertheless, yelling “Fate, COME!”, to no avail.

It happened in slow motion. Fate stopped just at the edge of the road. The squirrel booked across just in time. The trucker saw the creatures bounding towards his path out of the corner of his eye and he’d tried to hit the brakes in hopes of stopping in time. He’d skidded ferociously, the sound forever etched in her memory.

Matt had just reached Fate at the edge of the lawn, but he’d been wearing those stupid shoes, and not the Reeboks. He slid when he tried to stop.

He’d been running hard. Running hard for Fate. Running hard for her.

When she’d finally gotten to him, one of those damn shoes had gone MIA. His tattered body lay broken in the street, blood pouring from his head and multiple other sites. He hadn’t stayed conscious long enough, but he’d whispered her name.

“Lost…”

At least he knew she was here with him at the end.

She’d held him in her arms, cradled against her bosom like Fate had been that day so long ago, and the tears rolled once again. Their dog licked his hand and Matt had made the effort to pat him.

“It’s okay… Fate…” were his last words. He’d been staring into her eyes.

8

She’d wanted to die right then. The trucker had to pull her from his body. Fate had howled in grief. The police had come. A tragic accident. They’d offered condolences that didn’t help.

Running did.

She’d done it the next morning when she didn’t know what else to do and Fate had been standing beside the door after his breakfast. He‘d expected Matt to take him running, but Matt wasn‘t here. His sneakers sat in the corner still, but he wouldn’t need them anymore.

She’d been Lost when Matt found her and fell in love with her, and she was lost now. She didn’t know what to do. And then it’d struck her. It was simple really.

Run.

So she had. Everyday for the past eighty-three days.

It’d been hard that first morning. She’d thought she’d die of a heart attack. Almost wished it, actually, so she could be with Matt. But what would happen to Fate if she left?

She’d stop when she couldn’t breathe anymore, slowing to a walk with Fate pulling her along. The pain of losing Matt would come and she would start running again, the sweat pouring from her body. Physical pain was bearable, emotional pain wasn’t.

In the beginning, eighty-three days ago.

Both got easier with time.

Fate became her everything, and the miles running the roads with him gave her time to think of Matt. Of all they’d shared. Of all they could have shared. He’d have wanted her to go on living, and so she had. He had accepted her for who she was and loved her with all his heart. For this, she could only be grateful.

She had been lucky. Fate had smiled at her, before it had taken back its precious gift. Fate, the dog, sometimes smiled at her too. Like now.

“C’mon, boy. Time to run.”

An excellent read -- you have real talent!



Keep up the good work!

Very nice write

Thanks Lex.

I'm working on the anthology...



Thank you kindly.