Solace (2 page)

A
aron Hayes stood
in front of a house he’d only been to once; a house he hadn’t ever really planned on returning to. He’d done his job. There wasn’t any need for him to be here.

No need but for the customs of society, at least. It was incredibly rude to turn down an invitation to a little boy’s birthday party. Especially when it was hand-written.

Aaron sized up the house for a second time. It looked friendly enough, with light blue paint, pastel yellow window coverings, and a darker blue door. Flowers were planted out front, though he had no idea what kind they were. The lawn was obviously professionally manicured, and a sprinkler dusted water over it at regular intervals.

There was nothing to fear about this house, but fear he did.

“Relax. You’re not walking into a war zone.”

Richard’s voice wasn’t as calming as it should have been. Right now, it just made him cringe. His boss was the one who’d said he should come to this event. His boss was the one who’d pointed out that his name was the one specifically written on the invitation, even if it had been spelled wrong.

Richard hadn’t appreciated his attempt to use that as an excuse not to go.

“Sorry, I just…”

“I know,” Richard said patiently.

Richard was always patient, and he
did
know. He’d given Aaron a chance when no one else would. He’d said they could work on the areas he needed to improve, and in the meantime he’d have a good job he enjoyed. And over the last few years, they had worked on some of those issues.

Just not enough that Aaron felt comfortable entering a house filled to bursting with people he didn’t know.

But it seemed he didn’t have a choice. The door opened, and a woman he recognized greeted them. Aaron had a hard time focusing on her, though. Instead, his gaze fixed on the crowd of people behind her.

“Oh, I’m so glad you could make it! Ethan, Mr. Hayes and Mr. Baker are here!”

A boy in a wheelchair came forward, and Aaron actually smiled. He’d liked working with Ethan and his mother. She’d brought him to the center three times a week, and Aaron had gradually gotten accustomed to them. He’d hoped that familiarity would make it easier to handle a birthday party, but as he heard a crack of laughter from the other room, he knew that wasn’t going to be the case.

They aren’t laughing at you
, he reminded himself. There was no way they could be. And still he wanted to curl in on himself and disappear.

“Happy Birthday, Ethan,” Richard said. “What are you now? Thirty-two?”

“Thirteen,” Ethan said, his voice still that of a child, despite the fact that he’d grown since Aaron had seen him last.

“Close enough.”

“How’s Jack?” He asked.

“He’s really good. I taught him how to bring me anything I need, just like you showed me.”

Aaron’s smile grew at that, and he relaxed a bit. “Yeah? You’ll have to show me sometime.”

“Please come inside, you two. There’s plenty of food, so help yourselves. We’re going to do cake soon, too.”

Aaron followed Richard inside, and as soon as the door was closed, his heart started to race. The crowd of people was in the living room, with a few stragglers in the kitchen. Here in the foyer he was safe; unlikely to be asked to engage in conversation.

But he had a feeling Richard wasn’t going to let him stay in the foyer.

“Can I get you anything to drink?” Ethan’s mother, Maria, asked.

“Diet Coke would be great,” Richard said, nudging Aaron when he didn’t speak up.

“Um, no thank you. I’m fine.”

Unless she had some sort of Potion of Sociability in her fridge. Somehow he doubted that.

“Do you wanna see Jack?”

“Absolutely,” Aaron said, and his nerves untangled just a little bit more.

Ethan led him through the crowded living room, during which Aaron forced a smile and tried to make eye contact, something that was always a conscious effort for him. But when they got over to the far corner of the room, he didn’t have to force anything. A big smile tugged at his lips.

Jack lay on a dog bed, out of the way but alert and ready, just as he’d been taught. His long tail thumped slowly on the floor, but other than that he gave no indication of excitability; also something he’d been taught.

Aaron started to reach out to offer his hand, then remembered where he was and drew it back. Jack wasn’t his dog anymore. He’d never been Aaron’s dog, just his responsibility. And now, he was firmly bonded to Ethan, there to assist him with anything he needed. Richard lectured people frequently on interacting with service dogs and how they shouldn’t be treated as pets. Aaron knew better, and yet he felt a pang of sadness over the relationship he’d lost.

He knew it was silly. Jack had been a huge triumph for him. He was a good dog, but stubborn and far more energetic than the dogs he normally trained. But because he’d been on the list for euthanasia at the shelter, Aaron had taken a chance on him.

And now Jack looked like the perfect service dog.

“So he’s learned to distinguish between return commands?”

That was the one thing he hadn’t been able to teach Jack completely. It sometimes took him two or three tries before he brought the right item. With a caregiver there for Ethan full-time, it hadn’t been as much of an issue, but he was curious to see if things had improved.

“Yeah!” Ethan said excitedly. “He’s up to ten different things now. Wanna see?”

“Sure,” Aaron said with a smile.

“Jack, go get my blue bag.”

Aaron watched as Jack very calmly got up from his dog bed, moved at a steady clip through the house, nudged open the door to Ethan’s bedroom with his nose, and then emerged with a small blue bag, bringing it straight to Ethan without getting distracted by the partygoers.

“Good boy, Jack,” Ethan said, scratching the dog behind the ears.

“That’s awesome. I’m really glad you were able to teach him that. I bet it makes things a lot easier on you and your mom.”

“Yeah. She doesn’t have to do as much for me now. Jack does a lot.”

And with any luck, Jack would help Ethan years from now, too, giving him the freedom to live out his life on his terms. He might be able to get his own place, go to college, and have an independent existence he wouldn’t have had if not for Jack’s support.

As much as Aaron loved saving dogs, this was what made the whole thing worth it. Seeing the staggering effect a trained service dog could have on a person’s life.

“You must be the dog trainer,” a woman said from behind him, interrupting his train of thought. “I’m Connie, Ethan’s aunt.”

“Nice to meet you,” Aaron said, uncertain if he should extend a hand or not.

“We must have you to thank for Ethan’s transformation. He talks about you all the time.”

Something felt off about her smile. It seemed just on the edge of being flirtatious.

“Ethan’s the one who made this happen. I just helped him learn to work with Jack.”

“So modest!” She exclaimed, touching his arm.

Apparently he hadn’t imagined that flirtatiousness, since even Ethan seemed to find the conversation awkward.

“Aaron’s a good teacher.”

“You know, when I first saw the dog you chose, I was worried for poor Ethan. I mean, he’s a rottweiler, isn’t he? That can’t be good for a child.”

Aaron drew in a breath. He’d had this talk too many times to count, and it always got to him.

“Rottweilers aren’t bad dogs.”
They just have bad owners
. “Jack has a good temperament and he took to training really well. His breed really didn’t make a difference.”

Ethan reached out and put an arm around his dog. “Jack wouldn’t hurt anyone, Aunt Connie.”

“Oh of course, sweetheart. Jack is a sweet dog. You must have rubbed off on him.”

Aaron opened his mouth to say something, but closed it just as fast. It wasn’t worth it.

“Is it hard to train a dog?” She asked, touching him again. “I can’t get my Chelsea to do anything I ask! But she’s just so cute I give her the treat anyway.”

Aaron wanted to roll his eyes, but instead he fixed a smile into place and forced himself to make eye contact.

Sometimes he wished this came easily to him. He wished he could be charming and charismatic, and that he wasn’t constantly thinking about how stupid he sounded, or what others were thinking when he spoke.

Even with this woman, he felt that way, and he shouldn’t care what she thought.

But he did his best to pretend, and talking about dogs helped. He’d always been good with dogs, and dogs had always been good with him. They didn’t care about his “quirks,” as his mother once called them. They were simple and straightforward, never saying one thing to his face and then something else entirely behind his back.

Dogs were inherently good. Aaron had his doubts about humans.

So he talked about the process of training Jack, and it became easier. His words flowed instead of feeling like they were going to trip him at any moment. And when he hit a lull in his speech, he noticed Richard was watching him with a look of approval.

“I’ve fielded a few questions about the process. Maybe you can answer some more?” Richard asked.

Then he noticed it wasn’t just Richard watching him. Nearly everyone who’d previously been mingling in the living room was looking at him, waiting for him to say something.

Waiting for him to screw up.

His stomach felt like a lead weight. He looked from person to person, and his pulse hammered behind his temple, creating a pressure point that flared outward, pushing against his skull in a staccato rhythm.

“Uh, sure,” he said, reaching up to touch the back of his neck.

The questions flew, and because they were about dog training, Aaron was able to answer a few of them. But by the time the fifth question came, his brain was completely fixed on the fact that everyone was watching him.

Aaron drew in a breath, but it was short and quick and he gasped afterward, his throat feeling raw, his lungs burning.

He wasn’t going to hyperventilate over a few questions. He wasn’t.

And so he decided to make sure he didn’t.

“I have to… I need some air. Just a few minutes. Mr. Baker is a great trainer, I’m sure he can answer…”

The sentence faded, and Aaron didn’t look at anyone as he bolted for the sliding glass door. He couldn’t look at anyone, especially not Richard. This wasn’t the first time he’d done this and it wouldn’t be the last. Eventually Richard wasn’t going to put up with it anymore.

But Aaron couldn’t stay in that room. As soon as he shut the door behind him, the world opened up. He gulped down a lungful of air and closed his eyes, willing his heart rate to slow to an acceptable level.

Spotting a bench nearby, he sat down and gripped the cool edges of the stone.

He’d been working with Paws For Hope for years. He’d been a complete wreck when he started; someone Richard had to basically keep in the back twenty-four seven, lest he trip over himself and drive away anyone who was looking for a service dog.

It was fucking ridiculous. He was a grown man. He shouldn’t have these problems. It made it seem like he’d been raised by wolves.

Aaron sighed, running a hand through his thick hair. He had to apologize, but he wasn’t sure what to say.
Sorry I can’t function like a normal human being? Maybe next time?

The glass door slid open, and Aaron didn’t even have to look to know it was Richard.

“You okay?”

Richard sat beside him, giving Aaron the chance to just stare at the privacy fence that surrounded the back yard.

“Yeah. I just… got overwhelmed.” Richard’s silence felt like a hundred-pound weight on his chest. “I hope no one gave you any trouble about it.”

“Everyone went back to what they were doing, the same as always.”

It was Richard’s way of saying “this is all in your head.” And maybe it was. He couldn’t fault Richard for the “tough love” approach, even if he hated it sometimes.

The tatters of their conversation fell into silence again. A mockingbird called in a nearby tree, and the leaves rustled on a breeze.

“Aaron…”

Nothing good could follow that. His mind conjured at least three different possibilities in a matter of seconds.
Aaron, you’re fired. Aaron, you need help. Aaron, how did you even survive into adulthood?

“You’re an amazing trainer. The best I’ve ever seen. You can take a dog that has no hope, no prospects, and turn it into the perfect service animal. But you and I both know that’s not the whole job.”

Aaron braced himself, holding on to the edge of the bench as if the world was suddenly going to spin off its axis.

“Gloria keeps badgering me to help her fix up the house and sell it for a smaller place now that the kids are gone. Wants to go on a cruise, too.”

It was an abrupt change of subject, but Aaron looked at Richard, waiting.

“She says I’d have a lot more time if I retired, and I’m starting to agree. I’ve spent over twenty years building up this organization to what it is now.”

Aaron’s brow creased. He still didn’t understand.

“I want you to take the reins when I go.”

His thoughts came to an abrupt halt, and he said the first thing that came to mind.

“Anyone else would be better at it than me.”

“From a social standpoint? Maybe. But no one else cares about this organization as much as you do. You’re the only one I’d feel comfortable leaving it with. But I need to know you can handle
all
of the job.”

He couldn’t. He already knew he couldn’t. He looked away, swallowing hard.

“I’m supposed to give a talk at the VA next week. I want you to give it instead.”

“I can’t,” he said automatically.

“I have notes, and the presentation’s already set up. You’ll have one of our dogs with you.”

Aaron’s mind raced. A room full of veterans? How was that going to be any better than this?

“You can do this, Aaron. I know you can. I wouldn’t trust you with it otherwise.”

The weight of that felt heavy on his shoulders. So many things were pushing down on him, even when he knew Richard was trying to lift him up.