Orphan Thoughts

by Doverstar

"Charlie!"

"Yeah! It's me. How ya feelin', kid?"

"Okay. How are you?"

"Well. I've come to say goodbye."

"Where are you going?"

"Uh...just on a little trip. Listen, Squeaker, I want ya t'do somethin' for me, alright?"

"Uh-huh?"

"Want ya to take care of Itchy. Y'know, just while I'm gone. You gotta home now, and he doesn't have anybody."

"Don't worry, Charlie, I will."

"Yeah. Well,--ahem--g'bye, little buddy."

"...Oh Charlie, I'll miss you."

"Miss you too, Squeaker."

"Charlie? Will I ever see you again?"

"W'sure. Sure y'will, kid. You know, goodbyes aren't forever."

"Then...goodbye, Charlie. I love you."

"Yeah. I love you too."

_______________________________________

Anne Marie opened her eyes and yawned. The dream was too real this time. Rubbing wet eyes, the raven-haired 10-year-old pushed the covers back and got out of bed. She stretched and looked down at the rug.

Itchy slept soundly there.

Anne Marie's ability to talk to animals had been fading, only slightly. She could understand Itchy when it really counted, but when he did normal dog things, she only heard barks and whimpers. Maybe it was because she had gotten a little bit older. Whatever it was, she hoped fervently that it wouldn't go away completely.

Anne Marie knew better than to pick up the Dashund. He hated that. Instead she let him sleep and came downstairs.

"Good morning, Anne Marie," greeted Kate, Anne Marie's adopted mother. She was making waffles again.

"Good morning." Anne Marie went to the window next to the kitchen table. "Did you see Charlie outside today?"

Kate glanced at Harold, her husband and Anne Marie's adopted father. They both knew the answer. Their daughter asked every day, after she got home from school and in the mornings, just before she fell asleep. They had to dissapoint her every time. They were beginning to wonder if there ever really had been a Charlie in her life, once.

"No, dear," Kate murmured. "I'm sorry."

Anne Marie's large blue eyes blinked slowly, looking misty. Then she sat down and rested her chin in her hands, sighing.

Harold, still in his bathrobe and wearing slippers, took a sip of coffee. "Would you like some waffles?" he asked kindly.

Anne Marie just shook her head. She got up from the table.

"Where are you going?" Kate smiled.

"To wake up Itchy," Anne Marie lied.

She went upstairs and ran to the window.

She looked at the ground. Up the road. Down the street. At the sidewalk.

No Charlie. She sat on her huge bed and wiped her eyes.

Itchy was awake and at her side almost suddenly. He put a paw on her leg. "Mornin', kid," he yawned.

Anne Marie turned her head away from her little friend so he wouldn't see her cry.

But Itchy was a dog, no matter how unsympathetic he could be sometimes, and he understood instantly what was happening with her. It was the same every day, but this time worse. Today marked the anniversary of the last time she'd seen her best friend.

"Hey," he murmured. "He said he'd be back, didn't 'e?"

Anne Marie sniffled. "So why didn't he come?"

"Uh...maybe," Itchy said hopefully, "maybe he's got sidetracked. Y'know, by a girl--"

"Another one?" Anne Marie turned to stare at him frantically.

Itchy stammered awkwardly. "Not...er, not, y'know, a human girl. Yeah, yeah, a, uh, a dog girl. Y'know, kid, one o' those fancy kinds...."

Anne Marie buried her head in her hands.

Itchy tugged at his green doggie-T-Shirt collar with a paw. "What I mean is--look, don't cry--maybe he's lost. No, no, kid, don't look like that--he ain't lost! He's, uh...he's..."

Itchy gave up. This wasn't helping her anyway.

"He's gone--he's gone forever and I'll never see him again!" Anne Marie sobbed.

Itchy pushed his nose under her arm. "No, no, that ain't it," he whimpered. "Come on, kid, don't cry. He'll be back."

Anne Marie shook her head, still wailing with her face in her hands. "Itchy--Itchy, what if he's dead? What if he's dead and he's never coming?"

Itchy's own eyes were beginning to grow damp. "Nah, he wouldn't...he isn't...look, kid, it'll be okay."

Anne Marie hugged him and rocked the Dashund back and forth. Her best friend who had rescued her countless times, her dog, was gone. The last time she'd seen him--she'd fallen asleep and hadn't watched him go! She couldn't even stay awake for Charlie. No wonder he wasn't coming back. But he promised. Goodbyes aren't forever. Goodbyes aren't forever. He said we'd see each other again.

So why hadn't they?

That bittersweet flashback of a dream she'd had. If only she could relive it, beg him not to go, make him stay. Where had he gone? Could she follow him? No, she had to stay here. She told him she'd take care of Itchy, and she wasn't about to break that promise. But hadn't Charlie broken his? Where was he now? Was he okay? Did he still think about her? Why didn't he visit? She missed him so much! Itchy too. How was she going to continue her new, wonderful life without the dog that had helped her wildest dreams come true? This was all nothing without him. He deserved to be here, here with her and Itchy on the bed, reading Robin Hood again and talking every night away until late hours, just her and her dogs.

Goodbyes aren't forever.