Same

Blake Goodwin            

            “He was trying to kiss him,” Ray told the plastic surgeon. “I think that’s what he was trying to do.” The he Ray meant was his son, Jack. The him Ray meant was his Scottish Terrier, Jack Jr. 

            “A clean slice,” the plastic surgeon clicked his tongue. “You can see where the tooth went in.” He lifted Jack’s cheek back to where it should be. Ray watched from the corner of the room. He thought the boy’s cheek looked like a raw chicken breast. “See, if I stitch this, it will scar,” the plastic surgeon said. He leaned back and crossed his arms and looked at Jack from a distance. “Faces are hard to heal,” he shrugged.

            “We can’t have that,” Ray’s wife, Chloe, said. She had Jack in her lap. The black makeup around her eyes was smeared. She looked at Ray for confirmation. “Right?”

            “Well,” the plastic surgeon said, “I could glue it, but that will only work if Jack here can leave it alone for the next six weeks.” The plastic surgeon leaned in close to Jack again, who was sucking his fingers and holding a dish cloth to his cheek. “Can you do that, Jack?”

*

            The dishcloth was the first thing Ray had thought to grab after his wife had started shouting, Ray, get something! When Ray came into the bedroom, Chloe took the dishcloth from him and pressed it tightly to their son’s bleeding face. Ray stood there, frozen, next to Jack Jr. He watched his son cry. Take the dog, Chloe shouted over the wailing. Ray looked down at the dog and the dog looked back up at him. Ray realized that he should be angry. Go, his wife shouted, and Ray grabbed Jack Jr., dragged him through the house and out to the garage. When he got to the garage, Ray lifted the dog into the air by only his collar and let him go out onto the concrete floor. The dog sprawled, rushed to hide behind some old sporting equipment and Christmas decorations. The last Ray had seen of Jack Jr. before closing and locking the door to the garage were his eyes through the spokes of a bicycle’s wheel.

*

            “Ray. What do you think?” Chloe said to Ray’s back.

            Ray stared at a diagram hung on the wall. An illustrated face flayed of its top layer to show the labeled tissue beneath. Its eyes were closed and its lips gently parted. To Ray, the disembodied head looked asleep.

            The plastic surgeon and Chloe stared at Ray.

            Epidermis.

            Dermis.

            Subcutaneous.

            Muscle.

            “Ray.”

            Ray turned from the diagram. He looked at Chloe and at the plastic surgeon. Jack had his forehead pressed to Chloe’s chest. Ray looked at the back of his son’s head. There were specks of blood in the blond. There were specks on Chloe’s white shirt. The plastic surgeon shifted his weight from one leg to the other.

            Ray said, “Whatever you think is best will do.”

*

            The dog had come first. It was Ray’s before he was married. Ray had got it from a friend whose new apartment didn’t allow pets. Before he was married the dog’s name was Jack, but Chloe had liked the name so much that she gave it to their first-born.

            We’ll change the dog’s name to Jack Jr., Chloe insisted. It will be a little confusing. But it fits. It’s right.

*

            A nurse came in to prep Jack for the procedure. She hummed soothingly. She said to Jack, “My, you’re a strong boy. Much stronger than I would be.” Ray’s wife tried to smile as she petted Jack’s leg. “That mean old dog didn’t know who he was messing with,” the nurse said.

            “He tried to kiss the dog on the mouth,” Ray said.

            The nurse and Chloe and Jack all stared at Ray.

            “That dog’s going to get it,” Chloe said.

*

            It was dark out when the plastic surgeon had finished with Jack. Ray pulled the car around to the front of the hospital, and his wife and son got into the backseat. They rode home in silence, with Chloe cradling Jack in her arms and stroking his hair. At stoplights, Ray looked at their reflection in the rearview mirror.

*

            “Easy with him,” Chloe said.

            “I know,” Ray said. He took his sleeping son from Chloe into his arms, and carried him into the house to his bedroom, where he laid Jack down and pulled the covers up to his chin. Ray looked down at Jack lying small in the bed. He stared at the single white bandage keeping the boy’s cheek in place. 

            “Is he okay?” Chloe asked from the bedroom’s doorway. She looked past Ray to Jack.

            Ray turned from the bed. He crossed the room and met Chloe in the doorway. “He’s fine,” Ray said, and closed the door.

            In the hallway, Chloe came close to Ray. It was quiet. She sighed, closed her eyes, and put her forehead to his shoulder. Ray stared blankly down the hall.

            “I’m going to bed now,” Chloe said. She patted the small of Ray’s back. “Come along with me.”

            “I’ll be along soon.”     

            Once his wife had gone Ray went to the kitchen and filled a glass of water from the tap. From where he was standing, Ray could see the door to the garage. Ray finished his water and placed the empty cup on the counter. He stared at the door. He thought that he should just go to bed, but he didn’t. He went to the door and pressed his ear to it. He heard only silence. He thought again that he should just go to bed, but he turned the knob and opened the door. It was dark in the garage because Ray hadn’t thought to turn the light on before shutting and locking the door earlier. He hadn’t thought of it because sunlight had been coming through the three slatted windows in the aluminum door, but now it was only moonlight, darkness. Ray took another step into the garage. He looked around the room but with the light off he couldn’t see Jack Jr. anywhere. “Jack,” Ray said, his voice echoing. Ray bent his knees, sat down on his heels and patted the concrete floor. It took him a long while to see the glimmer of Jack Jr.’s eyes against the moonlight. The dog was crouched behind some gardening equipment and the lawn mower. “Jack,” Ray said again, softer. The dog sank farther into its crouch and pushed itself tight up against the wall. Ray lowered down to his knees. “Jackie,” he said again, this time with a more playful lilt to his voice. The dog stayed still. Ray lowered farther down, so that he was on both his elbows and knees. “Come,” he said. But, again, the dog didn’t move. Ray stayed still for a long while before realizing he needed to go lower still. He tilted his head downward and placed his forehead onto the concrete floor. “Jack,” he said again. And waited.