looks up at us and smiles. “You’re Lily, and this is the kitty you found.”
The girl speaks with a slight accent. No wrinkles, but her eyes look old. Pulled back into a tight ponytail, each strand of hair is exactly the same shade of solid yellow.
“Your earrings are vintage,” Lily says.
The girl touches her right ear. “They’re begonias. My sister found them at a garage sale for two dollars.”
“They’re worth about fifty.”
“Then she got a good deal!”
“She did.” Lily glances at her watch. “So I’ll leave the cat with you?”
“You have to see the doctor.”
“But—”
“Please fill this out.” As the girl stands to hand Lily a clipboard, I glimpse her large belly. She’s about to pop a litter; actually, only one.
Lily’s face has gone pale, a strange look in her eyes—the look that people get when they’re either wishing for something or regretting some decision. “I don’t have time to fill out a form—”
“Just do the best you can.”
Lily sighs and looks at the girl’s name tag. “I’ll try. Thank you, Vanya.” She turns away, puts me on a chair,and sits next to me. She stares at the paper on the clipboard, screwing up her eyebrows. “I don’t know your age, sex, or medical history. How am I supposed to answer all these questions?”
She jots a few cryptic notes, then gets up and returns the form, and Vanya slips the page into a file folder and leads us down the hall and into a small room. “Dr. Cole will be with you soon. Make yourself at home.”
She waddles out and shuts the door.
“Make myself at home?” Lily says, rubbing her arms. “I can barely breathe in here.”
Likewise. She goes on babbling while I press my eye to the biggest hole and take in my surroundings. To fight a successful battle, one must know the enemy. Jars of cotton balls and spray bottles are lined up on a narrow countertop next to the sink. The tub of treats is designed to fool unsuspecting victims. A dog might fall for that one, but not me. Worse, a morbid drawing of a cat hangs on the wall, the skin cut away, showing a side view with labeled arrows pointing to various internal organs. I’m shivering all over, not liking the smells in here.
Footsteps approach in the hall and the doctor bursts in frowning, like a storm cloud, his dark hair mussed. His white lab coat flaps over faded blue jeans. He washed up but he can’t mask the traces of blood and sickness, allmixed in with soap and sweat and the scrambled eggs he ate for breakfast. He looks nothing like his offspring, Bish. She has a delicate nose and fragile skin sprinkled with freckles. She has not inherited his blocky features or square jaw.
And she has not inherited his terrible discontent, his slow heartbeat full of bitterness. His loss is not like Lily’s, not full of wistfulness and happy memories. No, his heart is brooding, angry, and trapped, and he doesn’t see any way out of the darkness.
Chapter Eleven
Lily
The doctor took so long, Lily thought she might grow old and die while she waited, shriveling to dust before he even arrived. She pictured her shop sitting empty and dark, the sign swinging in the wind, customers pressing their noses to the window, then walking away.
How many opportunities had she missed in the last hour? Maybe only a few, but the point was, she wasn’t in her boutique. She was here in a stinky, noisy animal clinic in a room as small as a closet, trying to ignore the danksmell of wet dog and the distant mewling of distressed cats.
Now the vet breezed inside, his head bent over the cat’s open file folder. No apology, no acknowledgment of Lily’s presence. When he finally glanced up at her, she thought he looked vaguely familiar. She’d seen him in Jasmine’s Bookstore, only he’d looked relaxed. Now he was all business in a white lab coat, and if he recognized her from their brief encounter, he showed no sign. He looked distracted, disheveled, and full of his own
The girl speaks with a slight accent. No wrinkles, but her eyes look old. Pulled back into a tight ponytail, each strand of hair is exactly the same shade of solid yellow.
“Your earrings are vintage,” Lily says.
The girl touches her right ear. “They’re begonias. My sister found them at a garage sale for two dollars.”
“They’re worth about fifty.”
“Then she got a good deal!”
“She did.” Lily glances at her watch. “So I’ll leave the cat with you?”
“You have to see the doctor.”
“But—”
“Please fill this out.” As the girl stands to hand Lily a clipboard, I glimpse her large belly. She’s about to pop a litter; actually, only one.
Lily’s face has gone pale, a strange look in her eyes—the look that people get when they’re either wishing for something or regretting some decision. “I don’t have time to fill out a form—”
“Just do the best you can.”
Lily sighs and looks at the girl’s name tag. “I’ll try. Thank you, Vanya.” She turns away, puts me on a chair,and sits next to me. She stares at the paper on the clipboard, screwing up her eyebrows. “I don’t know your age, sex, or medical history. How am I supposed to answer all these questions?”
She jots a few cryptic notes, then gets up and returns the form, and Vanya slips the page into a file folder and leads us down the hall and into a small room. “Dr. Cole will be with you soon. Make yourself at home.”
She waddles out and shuts the door.
“Make myself at home?” Lily says, rubbing her arms. “I can barely breathe in here.”
Likewise. She goes on babbling while I press my eye to the biggest hole and take in my surroundings. To fight a successful battle, one must know the enemy. Jars of cotton balls and spray bottles are lined up on a narrow countertop next to the sink. The tub of treats is designed to fool unsuspecting victims. A dog might fall for that one, but not me. Worse, a morbid drawing of a cat hangs on the wall, the skin cut away, showing a side view with labeled arrows pointing to various internal organs. I’m shivering all over, not liking the smells in here.
Footsteps approach in the hall and the doctor bursts in frowning, like a storm cloud, his dark hair mussed. His white lab coat flaps over faded blue jeans. He washed up but he can’t mask the traces of blood and sickness, allmixed in with soap and sweat and the scrambled eggs he ate for breakfast. He looks nothing like his offspring, Bish. She has a delicate nose and fragile skin sprinkled with freckles. She has not inherited his blocky features or square jaw.
And she has not inherited his terrible discontent, his slow heartbeat full of bitterness. His loss is not like Lily’s, not full of wistfulness and happy memories. No, his heart is brooding, angry, and trapped, and he doesn’t see any way out of the darkness.
Chapter Eleven
Lily
The doctor took so long, Lily thought she might grow old and die while she waited, shriveling to dust before he even arrived. She pictured her shop sitting empty and dark, the sign swinging in the wind, customers pressing their noses to the window, then walking away.
How many opportunities had she missed in the last hour? Maybe only a few, but the point was, she wasn’t in her boutique. She was here in a stinky, noisy animal clinic in a room as small as a closet, trying to ignore the danksmell of wet dog and the distant mewling of distressed cats.
Now the vet breezed inside, his head bent over the cat’s open file folder. No apology, no acknowledgment of Lily’s presence. When he finally glanced up at her, she thought he looked vaguely familiar. She’d seen him in Jasmine’s Bookstore, only he’d looked relaxed. Now he was all business in a white lab coat, and if he recognized her from their brief encounter, he showed no sign. He looked distracted, disheveled, and full of his own
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