The Honest Truth

To Mark’s surprise, he discovers that he shares a common experience with the pestering young girl on the bus. Shelby feels betrayed by her father and is determined to let anger drive her interactions with him. When Shelby expresses her bitterness, Mark doesn’t respond with encouragement, as readers might expect from someone familiar with justified anger. At first, he doesn’t reprimand her either—he sympathizes with her emotion too much to take a condescending tone—opting instead to change the subject. However, Mark later gently suggests that she shouldn’t be angry with her father. When Shelby asks why, Mark says, “I don’t know. I think it’s just better not to be” (83). The story thus far shows the brash and sometimes cruel choices Mark makes when overcome by hot flashes of anger. Listening to Shelby’s situation, he regrets the pain he caused his own parents by leaving. Though he empathizes with her anger, he doesn’t presently feel it himself. This is the first moment where Mark can consider the implications of anger objectively, and he can guide Shelby toward a better path that he likely wouldn’t take if he were in the throes of that emotion. Mark will undergo more character development before he fully understands his anger, but this interaction allows him to begin processing his pain productively.

During Mark and Shelby’s conversation, she asks about two of his important interests: photography and haikus. Even though the hobbies are very different, they serve a similar symbolic purpose, particularly based on how he describes each. Mark values photography because, anticipating his short lifespan, he wants to leave proof of his existence after he is gone. Moments are important to him—whether the memories are joyful, bittersweet, or awe-inspiring—and he’s frustrated by fleeting time. Time can absorb those important moments if Mark doesn’t preserve them on film. Mark doesn’t draw direct connections between photography and haikus, but haikus serve a similar function to Mark. Haikus are short, three-line poems of five, seven, and five syllables, respectively. They can be understood as the “snapshot” form of poetry; similar to photography, haikus can only contain the essence of one idea at a time. For example, Jessie—who always begins and ends her half-chapters in haiku—concludes Chapter 5 ½ with this poem: “What should a friend do? / How to help, when helping and / hurting are the same?” (90). The haiku captures Jessie’s dilemma, but layers of events and relationship dynamics inform the profound question she asks. Similarly, Mark captures meaningful moments on film—such as the young red-headed girl on a bus—which conveys the presence of a story, though the photo itself only serves to capture an essence.

Mark struggles to find peace while his mind constantly ruminates around death. Mark remembers a day when his mom tried to console him, citing Beau as his protector and companion against all the bad. Though Mark believes in Beau’s pure heart, he quietly responds, “But…dogs die, Mom. Dogs die” (99). His fear extends beyond his own mortality, and he reasons that if everyone dies—especially those he holds most dear—then ultimately, life only brings heartache. Mark’s mom considers his response, then she thoughtfully replies, “Dogs die. But dogs live, too. Right up until they die, they live. They live brave, beautiful lives. […] And they don’t waste time being afraid of tomorrow” (99). Mark’s journey shows him embracing the first half of his mom’s wisdom; he is determined to live the life he dreams, even if he must squeeze ten years of experience into a few days. However, regardless of his bravado marching to his death, he still feels anxious about the end. Nonetheless, Mark’s mom’s observation of Beau remains true throughout the story: Especially when jumping to Mark’s aid, he worries less about potential consequences and focuses on how he can help in the present moment. Beau’s disposition also applies to the times between dangerous episodes; when they sit together on the bus or in a diner, Mark only ever sees joy and contentment in Beau’s eyes. Beau must sense that they’re many miles from home, but his love for Mark diminishes that tension. Mark has yet to learn everything his dog has to teach him.