Page 31 of Insta [FAM]
In anticipation of my parents’ visit, I opted to only work half-days. In the mornings, I’m at the clinic, and by the time I get home, Mum and Dad have fetched Aroha. Nyree pops in for dinner, but is enjoying the extra time with Gabe, and preparing for her exams. It’s a slight change in our routine, but I don’t know when I’m going to get the opportunity to see my parents again, which is why I make as many concessions as possible. Aroha loves having them here, and while I try not to spoil her too much, my parents do the opposite. And I allow it because she’s the only grandchild, and because my mother won’t take no for an answer. It’s just for three weeks, which I doubt will do any long-term damage to my daughter’s humility or inflate her sense of entitlement. Dion texts me twice — once on Wednesday, and again on Thursday — and when Nyree tries to show me Dion’s newest InstaFam video over dinner, I choose not to look at it. And I also leave Dion’s texts unanswered. Do I wish we could make a plan for a play date? Yes. But not before I’m sure we can survive a family affair. On Saturday morning, Dad and I go for a run, like we have every day since he arrived, and by the time we get back, breakfast is ready, and Mum, Aroha and Nyree are all dressed. Mum’s been faffing since yesterday about what we need for the barbecue (starting in t-minus six hours), and her and Nyree went so far as to plan a menu. Christ. It’s just a fucking barbecue, not a High Tea with the Queen of England. I’m fresh out of the shower when my phone vibrates from next to my bed. A text from Dion (ignore), and a missed call from Josie. My brows furrow. I’m not scheduled to be at the shelter today, which means it can only be an emergency. I call her back, and as soon as she picks up, I know she’s been crying.
“Josie, what’s going on?”
“M-Mika,” she cries, “It’s the s-shelter, there was a f-fire, and half the building is ash.” Shit. I hurry to grab my jeans, a t-shirt, and my sneakers.
“I’m on my way,” I tell her. “Is the fire department there?”
“Y-yes, and we have a f-few volunteers helping with the animals w-who survived the f-fire.”
I squeeze my eyes shut. Damnit. “Okay, I’m on my way. Have you called Shane, Elliot and Brooke?”
“They’re all on their way,” she sniffles. “It’s just awful.”
“I’m leaving now, Josie, it’ll all be okay, yeah?”
Once I’m dressed, I rush down the stairs, and when my family asks what happened, I give them an abbreviated version for Aroha’s sake. She loves animals, and if I tell her that not all of them survived, she’ll be devastated. And it’ll certainly put a damper on her excitement for today’s play date with Holly-Anna.
“I’m coming with,” Dad tells me, tying his sneakers. I nod, and we’re out the door within five minutes. The shelter is in Tarrytown, a short drive from me, and it’s absolute chaos by the time we get there. It’s not even mid-morning, and the property is teeming with firefighters, police officers, volunteers, and all available clinic and veterinary staff. One group is taking care of the animals who survived the fire — it looks like it started in the clinic, and spread out towards the kennels — and another group that’s pretty much collected dead bodies. Josie is speaking to the police, and once she notices me, she all but breaks down. Dad takes initiative, and helps the team looking for bodies, since he has no veterinary background, and when I’m able to calm Josie down, I join the team trying to save the animals who have been hurt. It’s frenetic, and aside from the animals that died, we lose a few more that succumb to their wounds because of the fire, and their own attempts to escape from it. We also lose a few of the animals that go into shock from the trauma, and while trying to manage it all — someone must take charge, and Josie is in no condition to do it — I switch off the part of me that cares about, and loves animals, simply because it’s a heavy weight to carry in the middle of a disaster. What feels like forever, is a mere two hours, and I’m busy bandaging up a dog who broke its leg trying to escape when I hear, “Mika!” I’m in the make-shift clinic on the far side of the property that really only consists of a tent, and the medical supplies brought over by my colleagues. “Mika!”
I stop what I’m doing, and glance around, spotting Dion in the fray of firefighters, staff, and volunteers.
She spots me, and runs over, her blonde hair askew in its bun, and her jeans and t-shirt already covered in soot. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” she exhales. “Amelia saw what happened on the news, and I wanted to help.”
I’m too angry to be surprised, too focused to be grateful, and already too tired to bother asking why she even showed up. I glare at her, for no good reason I might add, but that doesn’t deter her. “How can I help?”
I contemplate asking her to leave, but fuck, she’s here to help me, and I’d be a complete asshole if I didn’t acknowledge the fact. Oddly enough, I don’t want her in the proverbial trenches with Dad, he’s made of sturdy stuff and can handle the carnage, but I also can’t have Dion assisting me without any experience or medical qualification. When she sees I’m struggling to accept her help, she steps closer, and places her hand on my arm. “Please, let me help.”
