FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

In the morning, it was water instead of beer. A handful of peanuts had become a handful of pills. Immunosuppressants. Anxiolytics. Anticonvulsants, benzodiazepines, painkillers, and blood thinners, just to name a few. They sat on his tongue like little, bitter pebbles until a wave of cool, clear water washed them down his dry throat.

Kelvin's letter was the bitterest of pills to swallow. He'd opened it again and read it like a breakup text, from beginning to end, four or five times over at least before putting it away. Hunger struck, so he whipped some eggs in a bowl and scrambled them over the stove. He didn't usually make breakfasts like that.

Was this what normal life felt like?

Sighing, Reid stared at the steaming plate and thought about how the Shiba Inu used to cook for them. But Kelvin was water under the bridge, and in time, his memory would be swept out to sea, joining the poignant and long gone, but not forgotten.

It didn't bother him - a fact he found perplexing. He could only assume that all the loss and heartbreak he'd dealt with in life had finally conditioned him to the point of immunity. Somehow, he thought, he'd made his peace that morning, and so Kelvin's letter stayed tucked away for the rest of the day; a day that would turn into weeks, and those weeks into months.

Brushing the thoughts from his mind, he focused on breakfast. From then on, he decided, he would live for the moment.

And he would savor every one.

***

One bright and sunny morning at San Quentin State Prison, a broken and battered body was placed into an opaque, black bag and loaded on a gurney for transport to the morgue.

William Kendrick 'Billy' Washington hadn't banked on Aiden O'Flynn having any friends in the system. The pit bull lay curled in the fetal position on his bunk, the ibuprofen doing little to quell the pain of the anal trauma he'd received in the shower from friends of his victim. Billy was placed in protective custody following a trip to the infirmary and the filing of an incident report by unenthusiastic prison staff, but both he and his assailants knew that he couldn't stay there forever.

Ears low, he whimpered and whined like a scolded pup, the coppery taste of blood still lingering in his mouth, along with that of his attackers' semen. No matter how many times he brushed his teeth, the mental scar of the taste still psychosomatically rekindled it on his tongue.

One week later, on the night of his return to gen-pop, Billy took flight from the top tier of cells in the prison, the thud of his body, the stiff crack of his skull against the concrete four stories below resounding through the prison walls and disturbing not a single soul.

***

Three Months Later

_ _ "Vance, toss me that socket, will you?"

The cattle dog caught the wrench deftly in his hand and snapped a 10mm deep socket onto the end of it, pushing it onto a bolt head and wrenching it down with quick, calculated movements.

Three months later, Reid was a new man. Everything about him shined, and it showed in a way that made him look at least five years younger. His hair gleamed with a luster it hadn't had in years, and his eyes shone as bright as they did during his teenage years in Mr. Wojtkiewicz's garage.

Best of all perhaps was his health, no longer a lack thereof. In spite of the medication he required to stay alive, Reid had converted to a health nut. The cessation of drinking, spurred on by his stint in the hospital had caused him to deflate, a once rounded beer belly replaced by a flat stomach that looked good in clothes he hadn't worn since his early twenties.

Most importantly, he'd sworn off alcohol forever.

Sometimes, he thought about what Kelvin had said that day. More often than that, he thought of Aiden, and the gift he'd given him. It had been the first time in years he'd actually been happy, and while that too had been taken from him; something better had been left in its place, a gift from the lab he loved - the gift of life.

Paul was right. It was his second chance. His new start. And it all began with making some big changes.

"I'm moving out of my apartment next weekend." Reid mused, waist-deep in the engine bay.

"Oh yeah? Where to?"

"Found a nice little townhome up in Burbank. It'll be a little bit more of a commute, but I don't mind it."

"Sounds pricey."

"Yeah well, not too much more than what I've been paying, though. Nicer area, too." Reid grunted a little as he stood up, "I just had to get out of the place I was in. Too many bad memories in there."

Vance just nodded.

"I was wondering if you and the guys wouldn't mind helping me with the move."

"Nah, not at all, man."

***

The white U-Haul truck, Reid's rust-red Chevy pickup, and Paul's Raptor were parked just outside Reid's apartment. With his knee, Paul was unable to help with the move, but he'd loaned out his truck to Vance with the warning that if it came back scratched or otherwise damaged, the pit bull would receive treatment in kind. The Ford and the Chevy were loaded down with what could fit in their beds, and the U-Haul picked up the slack, waiting patiently while Reid and Vance tried comically to maneuver the queen-sized bed down the stairs.

Hector, Chris, and Frank finished loading some nightstands into the moving van, and the two men passed the mattress off to them, returning to the apartment for the rest.

"Let's get this next." Vance suggested, pulling a large dresser out from the wall a little bit, "Pull out the drawers, it'll make it lighter and easier to grab hold of."

Reid pulled out the bottom drawer - one he rarely used - only to freeze once he saw an envelope with his name on it. Vance looked up once he noticed Reid had stopped moving, and watched while the cattle dog removed the envelope and pulled out a thrice-folded letter, opening it and scanning its contents.

He didn't need to. Kelvin's prose had been burned into his memory, and he could recite it by heart if called upon. Several seconds passed before he finally folded it back up and stuck it back in the envelope.

"You okay?"

"Yeah. Here, give me a hand."

Together, they hauled the last of the furniture out of the apartment. Reid walked back up the stairs just to make sure they hadn't forgotten anything.

Four years of memories were packed into the tiny apartment, but those of the last one were arguably the most vivid of all. That was where the kitchen table once sat, where he and Kelvin shared many a meal together when the Shiba Inu lived there. That was where the couch was, where he and Aiden had spent many a night cuddling together and watching TV.

Reid exited with a sigh and shut the door behind him for the last time, leaving nothing behind but memories and the ice cube trays.

"Go ahead and take Hector with you in the Raptor. I need to make a phone call." Vance nodded. Reid popped the door open on his Chevy with a creak and slid onto the bench seat. He pulled out his phone and opened his contacts.

Four hundred miles north in San Francisco, a phone rang.

"Hello?"

"Kelvin?"

"Yes?"

"It's me...Reid."

An anxious pause followed, populated only by road noise.

"Reid?"

"Yeah."

"Jeez...I didn't even recognize your voice."

"Yeah, well, you probably wouldn't recognize me if you saw me." The heeler said with an airy chuckle.

"Likewise. Lot's changed in the last few months."

"I hear that. Where'd you go?"

"San Francisco."

"Huh. Enjoying it up there?"

"Oh, yeah. So much better than Los Angeles."

Reid sacked up. If there was any time to say what he needed to say, it was during the awkward silence that currently persisted between them.

"Listen, Kel, I owe you an apology."

"Save it. It's okay. I'm not holding anything against you, I know you were hurting because of Aiden, but looking back, I don't think it would have worked out anyway. You know what; I think that if we had tried...it would have just hurt us both even more in the long run."

He could only grin and bear it.

"I guess this means you won't be coming back to Doghouse then?"

"Sorry, Reid. It's just not where I'm at. You understand, right?"

"I thought you had a passion for this?"

"I do. Trust me; I still get a little giddy every time I open it up on a long stretch of road, but maybe I was naïve for thinking that I could have a viable career in working on them." In San Francisco, Kelvin looked down at himself and his tailored-fit, grey suit and pink gingham shirt with a black, polka-dotted tie, "I belong in Prada and air conditioning, not Dickies and summer heat." He laughed. Reid chuckled a little bit.

"I'm sorry to let you down. I'm just...happier up here."

"Don't apologize. I can't blame you for that one bit. I'd rather you be up there and happy than down here and miserable. I'm just glad to hear you've got your life on track."

"Thanks, Reid. Listen, I have to get going. Stay in touch and take care of yourself, okay?"

"Yeah, you too, Kel. Be seeing you." With that, the call was ended.

Interstate 5 had become a highway of memories for Reid. Over the fifteen minutes it took him to reach Burbank, all he'd loved and lost played on endless loop. Jeff, and all the good times they'd had at the shop. Kelvin, for the same, and more. And Aiden. Aiden, who by some bizarre stroke of the universe had managed to save the life of someone who once believed life was no longer worth living.

Fate was a powerful thing, Reid decided. An invisible force powerful enough to break hearts or build them up. To kill, or to prolong life. For all the pain, he chose to believe that the powers that be had turned in his favor, enough so that he was given a new shot at life. Thirty-six wasn't so old, he thought as the townhome came into view.

He had another thirty-six years to go, he figured, and to Reid Travis, those were the only ones that mattered.

~FIN~