Short story analysis and narrative techniques

¶ … Puppy Saved my Life

That fall day was cool and crisp; the trees were just beginning to turn into brilliant oranges and golds. Mom and Dad laughed and glowed like teenagers as I drove them to the airport to begin their journey to their second honeymoon. I had to laugh; they were holding hands in the back seat like newlyweds.

They'd been married thirty years, and never taken much time for themselves. After all, they'd always been so busy raising me and making ends meet. Now dad had retired, and they had plenty of time. Dad did a little consulting work, so they even had some extra money to spend on an exotic vacation. Last year they'd paid off the house I'd grown up in, so they'd decided to celebrate with a much put-off vacation.

After collecting a huge pile of brochures and travel pamphlets, they'd picked a resort in Jamaica, just for older couples, and packed their bags. Those brochures made it look so fun and romantic!

When I dropped them off, they looked so happy! Mom couldn't stop smiling, and dad looked so proud. They almost looked like teenagers again. I was so excited for them, it was about time they started enjoying life, and they'd been through some real hard times together. I hugged them both at the gate, and wished them well. Mom kissed me, and dad just about skipped all the way down the jet way to the plane.

After I dropped mom and dad at the airport, I met my girlfriend Jenny, for dinner and a movie. We saw a new comedy with Adam Sandler, and we giggled like schoolgirls all through the show. Afterwards, as I drove back to my apartment, it hit me how lucky I was to have such good friends and such a loving family. I remember settling into bed feeling comfortable and secure.

The horrifying news came to me hours later. I was sound asleep, and when the phone rang, I answered groggily. I thought it was mom, telling me that they had arrived safely. Instead, it was a representative of the airline. It seems the plane my parents were on had run into a terrible tropical storm and had crashed into the ocean, just short of Jamaica. There were no survivors.

I wish I'd known I wasn't ever going to see them again, there's so much more I would have said. I would have told them how much I loved them, and how much their love meant to me. Now, I'd never have that chance.

A hung up the phone paralyzed with shock. I had no idea what to do, or how to do it, or even if I could possibly bring myself to do anything. I sat on the edge of the bed in the dark for a long time. Gradually, I realized it was dawn, and that I'd been sitting on the edge of the bed all night, paralyzed with grief and shock. I finally roused myself enough to call Jenny, and she came right over.

Selinda, I just can't believe it!" She was sobbing, I was sobbing, and we were hugging each other, and crying our hearts out. Jenny had been very close to my parents too. We've been friends since the sixth grade, and she'd spent nearly as much time at my house as she did at her own.

Jenny, what am I going to do?" I wailed. I was an only child, and there was no one else left of mom and dad's family. There was no one to turn to but Jenny for me. I couldn't imagine life without mom and dad, and I couldn't imagine trying to make the arrangements for a funeral. I was too young! I was only twenty-three - I wasn't ready for this! You were supposed to lose your parents when you were an adult, with children of your own. Your husband was supposed to be there with you, and you were supposed to support each other through the hard times. Here I was, barely old enough to know what I wanted to do with my life, and my whole life had been pulled out from under me.

We'll get through it," Jenny said, as she wiped her eyes on her sleeve. "I'll help you Selin, we'll make it."

Jenny made a big pot of coffee, and kept pouring me new cups when the ones she'd poured me before got cold. I just cried and cried while Jenny made phone call after phone call, making all sorts of arrangements. Jenny called the funeral home, Jenny called the florist, Jenny called the newspaper, and had an obituary printed, Jenny called the bank. Jenny did a million things I never would have thought of. I'd almost forgotten that one of her little brothers had died in a car wreck when she was sixteen, so of course, she knew what to do. Her tears dripped down her cheeks and fell onto the mouthpiece as she talked to people, but she knew what to do.

Somehow, I made it through the hellish week that followed. I attended the funeral, dressed all in black. I was pale, and shaking so much I had to lean on Jenny's arm, or fall down flat on my face. I rode in a hearse to the cemetery, and watched the minister say wonderful things about my parents, and then lower the caskets into the ground.

People from all over town came to the funeral and to the house afterward. They gave me their condolences, along with their pies and cakes. Nothing seemed real to me, it was as if I was in a movie, and everything was happening around me. I could see it all, but it was as if it was happening to someone else. Sounds didn't register in my brain, and my responses were automatic and cold. I thanked people for coming, but I didn't see their faces, and afterwards, it was as if the whole thing had been a horrible nightmare. Through it all, Jenny was right there beside me, taking care of the things I forgot - her own eyes red and rimmed with unshed tears.

Those days after the funeral, I kept dragging myself out of bed somehow. I was a zombie, someone just going through the motions, but I got up every day, like I had some purpose. I went back to the law firm where I worked as a paralegal. Everyone was kind to me, but it didn't matter. Nothing seemed to matter anymore.

Finally, Jenny urged me to see a doctor.

Selin, I understand, I miss them too. But they wouldn't want you to grieve like this, they'd want you to get on with your life," Jenny told me one night after I'd had another vicious crying bout.

Finally, I went to the doctor, just to keep everybody quiet about it. He prescribed some anti-depressants for me. They seemed to help a little, but I never did get in touch with the "grief counselor" he recommended. I took the pills he'd prescribed automatically. I got up, took a shower, and drank a cup of coffee automatically. I just kept putting one foot in front of the other, and doing what I had to do to make it from one day to the next.

Soon after, I mustered up the courage to clean out my parents' house. That weekend, Jenny and I went to my parents' home and began the monumental task of cleaning things out. I couldn't bear to look at pictures, so Jenny helped me get things together. We cleaned out closets, and scrubbed everything from top to bottom. Somehow, it helped to make sure everything was clean and neat; the way mom had left it.

A still hadn't decided if I wanted to move back into the house I'd grown up in, or sell it. I wasn't sure I could handle all the memories I'd find every time I walked into one of the rooms. In the living room, I could still see mom sitting in her favorite chair, knitting or sewing on her latest project. And every time I walked into the garage, I could still smell the clean smell of sawdust left from dad's last woodworking project. I found it difficult to concentrate on anything for more than a few minutes, and major decisions were nearly impossible. I relied on Jenny for everything.

Little by little, things started to get back to normal. I finally made the decision to move out of my apartment, and back home. I cleared out some of mom and dad's dated furniture, and I even went to a movie with Jenny once or twice.

It seemed like it had only been a few days since mom and dad died, but in reality it had been several months. Life didn't seem normal, but at least it was settling into a pattern. Then the unthinkable happened. Jenny met a man, fell in love, and got married and moved away.

The last few times we'd gone out, Jenny had been different, but I'd been too wrapped up in my own problems to notice. She'd been happier, lighter somehow, and her face had a certain happy glow.

She'd been telling me about a new man she had met over the past few months, but I really hadn't paid much attention. I'd met him once, his name was Robert, and he seemed nice enough. I hoped that Jenny would be happy, but happiness was a concept I just couldn't grasp any more.

The wedding was planned in a hurry, because Robert had been offered a job in Indiana with a big company. Jenny didn't want to stay behind, so they decided to marry before they left. I was Jenny's maid-of-honor, but for the life of me, I can't remember anything about the wedding or the reception. I do remember that Jenny was glowing with happiness, the same way my mother looked that day I took her to the airport.

I went through my maid-of-honor duties as best I could, and tried to smile happily in all the wedding pictures. I didn't stay at the reception long, I just couldn't. Jenny wanted me to stay until she tossed the bouquet, but that was beyond me. I didn't want to catch her bouquet; I didn't want her to go!

When I got home, I stripped off my fancy maid-of-honor dress and took a long, hot shower, where I cried and cried until there weren't any tears left inside me. I wanted Jenny to be happy, but I was selfish enough to wonder how I was ever going to get along without her. She was my rock, and now I felt adrift, alone in the world with no one to love or care for me.

A wrapped myself in my robe and stumbled out to the living room. I threw myself down on the couch and sobbed. I wanted to die. There was no reason to go on, my parents were gone, and my best friend was moving away. I couldn't take it any more, I just wanted to curl up in a little ball, and go to sleep, and not wake up again.

I was sobbing so loud it took me a while to hear the whimpering. I looked around and saw a very big basket on the floor near the back door. Jenny must have dropped it off on her way to the airport; she still had a key to the house. In that basket was the most adorable little Cocker Spaniel puppy I'd ever seen, and she was wearing a big, floppy pink bow. The little puppy climbed clumsily out of the basket and wobbled toward me, crying, and whimpering. She stopped by my hand and licked me tentatively, then looked up at me with the most beautiful deep brown eyes I've ever seen. I scooped her up into my arms, and she covered my face with wet, sloppy puppy kisses. Her tongue was warm, and her face was so sweet and happy, I couldn't help but stop crying.

She jumped back down and wobbled around some more on those fat little puppy legs. Then she grabbed hold of the corner of my robe and tugged, growling and trying to sound mean. She was adorable, and I picked her up again and hugged her close. Suddenly I noticed I was smiling, and even laughing a bit at this little bundle of energy and fur.