Page 123 of Last Letters to Ara
I’d asked her to hold off for now, until I figured some things out, like how much to charge, for starters. Ivy only paid for the material, being my first, and she offered full permission to use her content once I was ready. What I would do with it I had no idea.
Lou helped me change my Instagram handle to AraDesigns and that’s about all we’ve come up with since. She’s been working double shifts at the café for the past few months, trying to reach her savings goal to open her own place. I haven’t seen her much, but I know that I’ll get to visit her whenever I want next year, in herowncafe.
Theo brings me back to the moment, reminding me of how this started, “I’m not doubting yourability, I’m just asking if youwantthat level of commitment.”
“If I find the right one, I think I will.”
• • •
For someone who arguably lacks the qualifications to adopt one pet, I’m not sure how I’ll make it out of this place without taking all of them with me. I took one look down the dog hallway and started crying. Thankfully, Theo was fast acting and pushed me in the other direction before my emotions got really out of control and ruined the day.
We come up to a young, smiling volunteer holding a cute little orange tabby kitten.
“Oh, hello!” I’m not sure what voice comes out of me, but it’s high pitched, squealy, and embarrassing. I’m not particularly social with strangers on the usual, but hopefully she doesn’t get offended that I’m speaking directly to the little one in her hands.
Thankfully, it seems par for the course when she responds with, “Hi!!” in a little voice, giving the little dude a bob as if he’s the one saying it back. I give his head a little scratch and keep walking.
“What about that one?” Theo asks, gesturing to the little guy we just met.
In our pre-mission briefing, I’d told Theo his position in this is one thing and one thing only: damage control. It includes (but is not limited to):
Make sure Ara cries as little as possible, preferably under ten times. If Ara sees a sad animal and begins the descent into depression, point out one that looks happy. If there isn’t a happy one, it’s “Code Red.” Exit the premises immediately.
Do not let Ara adopt anything that is high maintenance, needs potty training, or anything besides food and water.
Do not let Ara bring home more than one furry friend. Don’t listen to anything that comes out of Ara’s mouth to convince you otherwise, and especially don’t let her tempt you with sex.
If there is talk about not being able to leave something fuzzy behind, it’s time to go home.
If there is ugly sobbing, it’s time to go home.
Theo knows it’s in both of our best interest to get in and out of this place as quickly as possible, hence his question as to why I’m not picking the first kitten I laid my eyes on.
I shrug. “Keeping my options open.”
Theo mutters a prayer and snakes a hand around my waist. Most would think it’s a cute gesture, but I know he’s taking his role seriously and is preparing for a very possible Code Red.
We come up to another young, cheery volunteer standing in front of a door to the cutest room to ever exist. “Hi, are you interested in adopting one of our kittens today?”
