Earnest by Kristin von Kreisler Page A

answers to life’s most crucial questions: Why am I on earth? What’s the meaning of my existence? What’s going to happen when I die?
    In her peripheral vision, however, Anna saw every blue inch of Jeff’s car move into the street. She was as aware of him as a compass needle is of north. But she wouldn’t let him hurt her any more than he already had. She turned into the parking lot and left him in a cloud of dust.

    Anna had expected Earnest to look downtrodden after inhaling smoke and burning his dear paw. But the sight of him in an ICU cage, too sick to get up and greet her, went beyond her expectation and made her feel desolate.
    Though Dr. Nilsen had said he was giving Earnest IV fluids, she was not prepared for the dreadful IV bag and tube or the blue bandage over his catheter and shaved leg. For fear of alarming him, she tried not to shrink back at the white plastic cone fastened around his neck to keep him from chewing off the gauze around his paw. She might as well have been looking at his face through the large end of a megaphone—and Earnest’s face was stricken.
    He didn’t seem stricken only for himself, though surely pain was mixed into his expression. His face also seemed stricken for her. His glazed eyes spoke frankly of his worry and distress: If I’m stuck in this blasted cage, I can’t protect you. I’m not living up to my responsibilities. I’m sorry . As if to underscore his regret, Earnest flopped over, and his cone banged against the cage wall.
    â€œOh, Earnest. It’s okay.” Anna sank to her knees and reached inside to pet him. When he tried to lick her hand, his cone hit her wrist.
    This cone is a satanic invention, said his dark look.
    â€œDon’t worry, Sweetie. You won’t have to wear it forever.” Anna stroked Earnest’s shoulder. “And you don’t have to worry about me. I’m fine. Honest.” Her first lie to her beloved dog.
    Anna usually kissed Earnest’s forehead, but the cone made that impossible, so she kissed her fingertips and pressed them on his front paw. As she patted it, an arresting thought occurred to her. Maybe Earnest was also stricken because she had not come to visit him with Jeff. Earnest would have expected them together. He’d want to see his family. Maybe he was as worried about that as about her.
    I don’t understand, said his crinkled forehead.
    How could Anna explain?
    She dared not trouble Earnest with her distress, which was probably seeping out of her in ill-smelling scarlet waves. She couldn’t tell him that she and Jeff had not come here together because he’d shocked her to the core. Nor could she point out that she was worried sick about the house. The fire was not its only trouble. So was the threat of demolition.
    Anna bit her lip. She would never burden Earnest. In order to heal, he needed peace, not strife. Yet surely he sensed that something highly disagreeable was happening. He was too smart not to read the signals.
    â€œEverything’s going to be fine. You’ll see,” Anna said.
    The troubled cast in Earnest’s eyes said he was not so sure.
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    In the waiting room, Dr. Nilsen’s fish were zipping around, showing off their vigor. But the doctor looked tired. Stubble shadowed his cheeks, and the edges of his eyes seemed blurry—surely he’d seen too much injury and illness for one day. His shoulders looked stiff from lifting and cajoling dogs. He curled his fingers around his stethoscope’s chestpiece and he leaned against the wall.
    â€œYour boy’s doing pretty well,” he said. “He’s a good patient.”
    â€œHe looked sad,” Anna said.
    â€œThat’s because he doesn’t want to be here. He’ll perk up if he goes home.”
    â€œIf?” The word fluttered in Anna’s throat like a frightened wren.
    â€œHe’s still not out of the woods. We’ll watch him through