Numbered by Charley Willerton-McKee

Numbered Charley Willerton-McKee

Another pretty boring day at work. I mean, I like my work and it gets me paid, but it’s nothing really to brag about. I sit at a desk and look at numbers all day.

I read them, I count them, I recount them, I organize them. I like numbers, they make sense to me. There aren’t any innuendos or hidden meanings, just facts and statistics put into simple, straightforward, numerical form. There’s order, there’s function. Everything I wish the rest of the world had.

However, my day does not stay uneventful. I open my door and lean down instinctively to pet Oliver. He always comes running when I get home, but he doesn’t come. I call out to him, wondering where he could be, but there’s no response. Walking to the kitchen, I nearly step on some vomit in the living room. Gross. Oliver must not be feeling well; at least we have wood floors.

In the kitchen, I see him lying on the floor asleep.

Gently, I lean to pet him, but get no response.

I shake him

and I get no response.

Oliver? I ask, my voice is quivering slightly.

Oliver does not respond.

The vet runs some tests and says I need to wait

business days

for the lab results.

It’s a Friday.

A lab result for a lab.

Monday comes and the vet calls. The numbers are nice to look at. Uniform with a nice flow.

I almost miss the call admiring them.

The results came early, she says, as if there is good news. Oliver seemed to have ingested something called glycol ethers. What the fuck is glycol ethers? The vet explains it’s a compound usually found in carpet cleaners. Dogs don’t normally get into that kind of thing,

did Oliver ever show symptoms of pica?

What the fuck is pica? Sometimes dogs who are anxious, maybe when their owner is at work, will eat things they shouldn’t to subdue stress.

Is she really trying to blame me? Oliver was my best friend. I would know if my best friend was stressed.

It’s been a week since Oliver passed. Our weekly dinner at Grace’s house is tonight. I tried to postpone, but Abby insisted. Her mother is an interesting person.

In numbers, she’s a She is nice to me sometimes and cooks well, that’s how she earned the 4. Other times not so much

—that vet was definitely a She gave me the information I needed but I deducted 8 for her insinuation that I didn’t pay enough attention to Oliver to notice his stress.

Oliver was not stressed. I miss Oliver.

Oliver is absolutely a He loved me and was there for me most of my life.

Abby is a She’s beautiful and kind and pushes me to be better. If I could rate her higher than 10 I would, but she’s no Oliver.

My mom doesn’t hate you, she says, but it’s not helping that every week you try to find some new reason to miss out on dinner. I mean, I think my best friend’s death is a reasonable excuse, but I tell her okay.

Her mom makes a beautiful dinner as usual.

plates, with serving dishes, of sides and Delicious and constant.

main

Grace’s face as I started serving is not. I stopped serving. Grace’s face. Grace’s face.

A nice rhythm.

I forgot we need to say grace at Grace’s place to make Grace’s face of disgrace replaced.

I like to keep my mind busy as Grace dramatically opens her bible to drone on with whatever this week’s passage is.

The food is delicious, Abby tells her mom. Thank you, I chime in. I was sorry to hear about Oliver, Grace replies. Thanks for reminding me. Abby pokes me under the table. Sorry, it’s a touchy subject. Winnie waddles in and licks my knee. Winnie waddles. That’ll be fun for next week. Grace tells us that the vet just told her Winnie is pregnant. Apparently, the shelter lied about her being spayed and Grace never bothered to check. Sounds like her fault, I thought. How do you not pay attention to your pet?

Winnie is a Point deducted because of Grace obviously. Winnie earns a half point for looking so cute while round and plump, but loses one for her nipples starting droop downwards.

I’ll round her to an 8 for now, it’ll be hard to keep track without my spreadsheet and with the wine.

I excuse myself to the restroom as Abby and Grace start to talk about puppies and vets.

A touchy subject right now.

I walk through Grace’s house and see she cleaned her carpet today. Grace’s house is old and full of beige-maybe-once-white carpet. Maybe Oliver got into her carpet cleaner on one of his and Winnie’s playdates. Grace has just left the machine charging in the study.

They haven’t really had a playdate recently though. I make a mental note alongside my numbers to check if our cleaners have that glycol whatever in them. Dinner continues per usual. Boring conversations, snide remarks, pleasantries, and falsehoods until we finally go home.

I’m about to leave for work when I decide to grab the trash to take it out on the way. I mention this because as I grabbed the bag from the bathroom I saw that scary little blue plastic stick hiding under a few tissues as I grab the bag. Abby is pregnant.

Are her nipples drooping? Do they do that? Why didn’t Abby tell me? Maybe she didn’t wait long enough and assumed the test was negative. Or maybe it’s been so long the test became faulty. Is that possible?

I take out the trash. I’ll ask Abby after work.

In the breakroom, the other accountants and salesmen are talking about going for drinks after work for Taco Tuesday. James! You should come with. We never get to see you outside of work, one of the accountants claim. Sorry, I decline.

I want to get home early to make Abby’s dinner. I’m not much of a socialite. I’m always ready to just go home and eat dinner and watch TV with Abby and Oliver on the couch. Abby is the same. It’s usually just us, or just us and her mother.

Plus, today I’m extra anxious to get home to ask Abby about the test I found. Weird that she didn’t say anything. Weird to think she may be pregnant. We hadn’t really talked about having kids. It’s not something I’m entirely for or against, just hadn’t added up yet. I know Abby is not super interested in having one either, she has some nasty history with her parents,

but we would be different, I think.

I’m not sure what to think. I’m not sure I could scale a baby, I don’t have much history with them, how would rating go? I usually take demeanor and relationship into account, but how do you measure the attitude of something that hasn’t formed their character yet? This would disturb my whole system. That’s one for the cons column.

I’m making Abby’s favorite for dinner. Chicken Alfredo. I spill some of the sauce and remember my mental note to check the cleaners we have. I get everything ready to stay warm. Abby should be home soon, she usually is here about 6:30, she gets off work a little later than me.

I go to the closet.

Wow, I’ve never noticed they don’t list ingredients in cleaners. I guess it makes sense, I wouldn’t really know what they are anyways. Abby always insists on the organic-y, healthier ones but maybe I’ll research a little later. They all have names like pure and good so I can’t imagine they want to kill dogs. None of the jugs seem to be damaged or leaking either. They all have those safety lids for babies.

I wonder when Abby is getting home.

What if glycol ethers gets to the baby?

Is there a baby? Glycol ethers is a Poor Oliver.

It’s

and Abby isn’t home yet. That’s odd. She hasn’t called or anything so she’s probably stuck at work or in traffic again.

I’ll do some research now to see if dog poison is in any of our cleaners. I can just stop and come back if Abby gets home.

I go down my list.

Abby’s home! I greet her at the door like Oliver used to.

It’s now. It took a while to figure out those ingredients.

Companies are sneaky. I set up dinner and we eat. Abby asks if it’s a special occasion as I made alfredo. No, just wanted to surprise you. Like you’re going to surprise me. That’s sweet.

We finish dinner and she didn’t bring it up.

—Abby? Yes? Earlier I took out the trash and saw the pregnancy test. Oh.

Are you pregnant?

I think so. I have to go to the doctor to know for sure. What do you want to do? What do you mean?

Do you want the baby? Do you not want the baby? I wanted to know what you thought. This interaction is not going well.

The fuck do you mean 0 out of 10? Oh shit. I said that aloud.

Yeah you fucking did. Can you please just tell me what you’re thinking?

I DON’T KNOW WHAT I’M THINKING. CAN’T YOU TELL THAT?

No, but now I know. Abby stormed off.

I lied, I don’t know what she’s thinking at all.

I know saying that aloud was not good, but I’m not sure why she’s so upset.

I hate lying. It makes me feel gross, especially to Abby.

I’m going to do some sudoku and talk to her in a little. She’s not very happy with me.

I walk to our bedroom. Slower than I’ll admit.

Abby? What. Do you want to talk?

Not really,

but I’m sorry I yelled at you. I’m stressed. I don’t know if I want the baby or not. I’m worried how my mom will react, with everything that happened you know.

Abby’s father was not a good man. Grace was pregnant with Abby’s siblings 5 times. Abby was the only one who made it to birth. Mainly because Grace ran to a shelter. Abby didn’t know this for a long time. Her father was in her earliest memories and he was always gentle and kind to her. Grace too. She had trouble believing her mother when she told her one drunken night accidentally, until she saw the records. Saw that her father wasn’t on her birth certificate.

I know, but your mother wanted you, didn’t she? She ran away to have you. Yeah, but she was being so weird talking about Winnie being pregnant. She said some very strange things. She thinks Oliver got Winnie pregnant. How long ago did you take the test? A few hours before dinner. I was going to tell both of you at the same time, but she was upset about Winnie and you both were not being nice to each other again.

Why didn’t you tell me? I’m really confused. This is not my Abby. Since when does she keep secrets from me? I don’t know. I’ve been confused and stressed.

What did Grace say about Winnie? I don’t want to talk about that now. We’re having a different discussion.

Abby’s father died when she was eight. She hasn’t told me much, except he had been ill for a while and getting sicker. He was the type that didn’t want to go to the doctor unless it was dire. One day she found him in the kitchen face-down. I guess it was dire and he didn’t realize. I didn’t ask her more after that. She doesn’t like to talk about it.

Have you made an appointment with the doctor? Abby goes to the doctor as often as possible now. Understandable. Not to our insurance, whose numbers just get higher, but understandable. Not yet, I’m calling tomorrow. They’re closed today.

Makes sense. Can I come with you?

No. I need to think this through. I promise to tell you after though.

Okay. Will you tell me what Grace said about Oliver? I think it’ll just make you upset. I want to know. She said she was angry he got Winnie pregnant.

That’s it?

Why?

I’m just wondering. It’s just going to make you hate her more. I don’t hate her.

She said it served him right to have died. I hate her.