Page 9 of Rumours and Romance
“Hey. I do not starch my shirts.”
“Could have fooled me.”
When I get to the clinic a little while later, I’m still smiling from my easy conversation with Mila. She’s fun, lighthearted, and our banter today had me laughing more than I have in a long time. When I push open the doors to the clinic, Rosie, our receptionist, looks up at me with panic in her eyes.
“Doctor Holt, thank God. Doctor Morton is out at a foal delivery and I just got a call from Mrs. Wagner that her cat got hit by a car, and we’ve got a full slate of appointments today.”
My eyes widen briefly. An emergency on top of a full caseload is not easy, especially since I’m here with just one technician. As much as I don’t want to, I know what we need to do.
“Okay, Rosie. Call Veronica and see if she can come in to help out. Then send Doctor Morton a text, telling him not to rush back but letting him know what’s happening. And let’s go through the appointments for this morning and see who we can push to the afternoon. When is Mrs. Wagner going to be here?”
Fifteen minutes later, Rosie and I have cleared most of the morning except for some visits that a tech can handle, just as Mrs. Wagner walks in. Tears are streaming down her face and in her arms is a limp, furry body. My heart drops, but I push aside my emotions.
“Let me have Skip, and you sit down with Rosie to give her whatever information you can,” I say gently. Veronica walks through the door, and I give her credit for how quickly she assesses the situation and joins the action.
“I’ll wash up and meet you in the back, Doctor Holt.”
I nod at her brusquely, already heading back with poor Skip. I can feel a faint heartbeat, but one leg is at an odd angle, and he’s not very responsive. Still, I can tell how important this cat is to Mrs. Wagner, so I have to try and see what can be done.
For once, Veronica doesn’t say or do anything inappropriate. We’re all focused on helping Skip. Unfortunately, ultrasound reveals internal bleeding. Combined with his broken leg, and our limited capabilities for surgery, it means there’s nothing we can do. I take a minute alone, stroking the now sedated cat’s fur, trying to gather my composure before telling Mrs. Wagner that her best option is compassionate euthanasia. This is the hardest part of my job, and it never gets easier. Thankfully, although she is clearly devastated, Mrs. Wagner is able to agree that putting Skip down is what’s best. I have our other technician, Martin, help me as he has been comforting Mrs. Wagner in between seeing other patients who we couldn’t reschedule. Together we administer the medication to Skip, offer our condolences to Mrs. Wagner, then give her a moment by herself with her cat.
Out front, the waiting room is thankfully empty. Veronica and Rosie are standing behind the desk, waiting for us.
“Thank you all for your help this morning,” I say quietly. Rosie has tears in her eyes, and we all stand there silently waiting for Mrs. Wagner. When she comes out, I hand her the packet we have prepared for this situation, we all say our condolences and goodbyes. But there’s no time to dwell on the sadness, because our next patient arrives and it’s time to try and catch up from our morning.
I end up staying at the clinic long after it closes, finishing case notes and other tasks that I simply didn’t have time for earlier. When I’m done, the last thing I want to do is go back to an empty motel room. It’s too late to hit the water and go for a paddle, but Martin mentioned he and his partner, who happens to work at Mila’s bakery, would be going out to Hastings, the local bar in town, and invited me along.
So, after stopping at the motel to shower, change, and spend some time with Harley — which feels extra poignant after what happened today — I head out on foot to the bar. When I walk inside, my gaze sweeps the room, looking for Martin and Sebastian. I find them easily enough, and when I see Mila sitting with them, my mood picks up instantly.
“Jackson, hey!” It’s clear she wasn’t expecting me tonight, but I think she’s happy to see me.
“Hi. I didn’t realize you would be here, too,” I reply, settling down into an empty chair beside her.
She slides over a pitcher of beer and an empty glass. “Yeah, well, I don’t have to open the bakery tomorrow, which means I can stay up past nine tonight.” She wiggles her fingers in mock excitement, and I chuckle.
“Living the good life.” It feels natural to tease her, and her laugh eases some of the darkness that had settled in my heart after the day we had. When she leans over and squeezes my arm, I look into her deep brown eyes.
“Martin filled us in on your day. Poor Skip, I’m going to drop off some muffins for Mrs. Wagner tomorrow. Are you okay?”
Her words touch me, and I’m surprised to realize it’s the first time in my career that anyone has bothered to ask me how I am after euthanizing a pet. That shouldn’t be true, but it is. Stefani claimed she “couldn’t bear to think about it,” and I was always the one ensuring other staff were alright.
“I’m okay. It’s always sad, but it’s part of the job.”
Mila looks at me closely for a moment but whatever she sees in my face seems to satisfy her.
“Alright. Then let’s drink some beer, shoot some pool, and have a good night.”
We cheers our glasses of beer together and drink. As the cold beer slides down my throat, I feel the stress of the day start to leave. Whether it’s the drink or the company, I don’t fucking care right now.
“You must be the new vet.” A woman’s voice comes at me from across the table. When I look up I see that it belongs to someone who is vaguely familiar, but I’m sure we haven’t met. “I’m Serena, one of Mila’s best friends.”
I reach my hand over the table to shake hers. “Jackson, nice to meet you. And yes, I’m the new vet.”
“Cool. Welcome to town,” she replies. I give her a nod of thanks and take another sip of my beer, letting the conversations around me happen without really taking part in any of it. Don’t get me wrong, it feels good to be out with some other people my age, hopefully making connections and friends, but I can also feel the emotional weight of not just today, but the last several months threatening to overtake me.
“Hi, Jackson.”
Shit. A hand lands on my shoulder at the same time I hear Veronica’s voice, which sounds way too close to my ear. I didn’t even notice her, much less realize she had gotten so close. I shift my chair ever so slightly toward Mila, who’s on my other side, but Veronica doesn’t back away.
