Epilogue for Where Are You Going, Where Have You Been?
The deucedly hot sun glared down on the sleepy town, tucked away in the desolate corner of America. The large, looming oaks were all too big for the settlement’s compacted population. The shade the trees provided served as relaxation points for the stray mongrels roaming the area deliriously, foaming at the mouth in the summer heat. The worn-out roads connecting one unpretentious neighborhood to another were, for the most part, unoccupied except for the rare occurrence of a Buggy or Hudson Hornet wheezing down the road. Just down the road was Tim’s Burger-and-Fries mini-raunt, a sort of play on a ‘restaurant’ by the local schoolboy called Timothy Carmine. Most of Charlie’s peers swung by there on Friday evenings such as the one in July 1972, the coolness of the air and the irrevocably “daringness” of going to the hottest spot in town lured them. Charlie, with her pin-straight brown hair and dull blue eyes, found herself strolling down the block in the opposite direction of Tim’s rip-off hot spot at precisely 9 pm with Lucy’s leash in one hand. She was an exceptionally remarkable dog. Her big brown eyes bore all the curiosity the world could offer. Her silky fur was Charlie’s favorite thing to sleep on, warmth always radiating from her pelt. Many commented on Lucy’s beauty, teasing that they should enter her in a dog show for extra change. The German Sheppard tugged on the leash relentlessly, throwing herself forward as if she had no other purpose in life but that. Charlie scoffed in response, her gaze tearing away from the charming fellow she’d made eye contact with moments before.
“Christ, Lucy! We ain’t goin’ anywhere crazy, just ’round the block.” Charlie scolded, yanking back on the leash with a newfound ferocity. Lucy shoved her face towards the ground and began sniffing repugnantly, her wide nostrils inhaling the crisp night air as she guided her owner towards the splintering fencing of a nearby estate. As if being commanded by the slight breeze passing through, Lucy sat down and tilted her head towards the direction of the house in front of them.
“Erm… OK. You’re a bizarre dog.” Charlie laughed uncertainty as she tugged Lucy’s leash, her gaze fixated on the house in front of them. Most residents of the uneventful town knew this house to be just another deserted residence that no one cared enough for to invest in. Charlie’s older sister, Betty, had been friends with the girl that had lived here before she took off eleven years ago. Her name was Connie, formally known as Constance. Run-aways in Charlie’s sleepy little town weren’t unusual. It happened often, and no one drew much concern to it.
“Did you know the Carmichael’s boy took off with that Pettishire girl?” Charlie’s mother said to her one morning while slicing cheese with her knife.
“No kidding! Jimmy and Alice?” Charlie had replied, taking a starved bite out of her apple as she settled down on the stool. It was forgotten about five minutes later.
Charlie recalled Betty being wistful whenever her childhood friend was brought up. Maybe the runaways weren’t always forgotten. “All right, Lucy, it’s time to go home!” She decided after a moment of synchronized staring at the house with her dog, flushing and hoping nobody had seen her snooping. What a stalker she’d make! Lucy let out a whimper of protest as she was pulled away from the house, looking at it with a certain longing in her eyes. Charlie, growing impatient, dropped the leash and threw her hands up. “All right, you dumb dog, what is it?” Lucy bolted towards the fence and through the open gate, howling madly. Home, home at last! thought Lucy as she did circles around the yard, absorbing the scenery. The overgrown, lush grass tickled her pelt as she went along. The smell of decaying wood flooded her canine senses, something she wasn’t used to smelling before. What had happened to this house in the years it’d been abandoned?
“Enough,” Charlie cried, running after Lucy and picking up the leash again. “You’ll draw attention, you old dog!” She hissed, directing them both back towards the sidewalk and down the block. Lucy’s ears flattened as she was taken away, padding beside her owner and watching the house disappear from view. When they got home and Charlie told her mother of the funny thing their dog did, they couldn’t have known Lucy, the normally unspirited and tired old hound, had been riled up by the fact she was coming home to the place she’d lived in twelve years ago with her sister, Jude. The place she’d lived in with her snobby mother, always comparing and contrasting her to the bore of a sibling she had. The place she’d lived in with her drunk father, always downing beers and wasting away into a shell of himself at work. The place she’d lived in when she’d been Constance, the beautiful girl with the untellable fate.