The Blessings of the Animals: A Novel - By Katrina Kittle Page 0,11
me he was selling the restaurant.
Before the sirens, I had no idea what to do. I watched the red numbers of the digital clock across the guest room change for seventeen minutes. I didn’t cry. I didn’t rage or break things. Other than feeling chilled to my bones, I was numb.
When the sirens went off, there were things I needed to do. And that was a relief.
MY LEG HAD GROWN STIFF FROM MY FALL IN THE TRAILER, and my feet were so cold they ached. I limped down the hall to our bedroom, Max limping beside me.
Rain released from the sky with a screech, as if someone had turned on a faucet. I needed to get to the barn.
I opened the dresser drawer for the wool socks.
The drawer was empty.
My heart clutched.
I opened the drawer above it, which housed Bobby’s underwear and T-shirts.
Empty.
I opened the third drawer down—his jeans and sweat pants. Empty.
I flung open and slammed shut drawers. Empty. Empty. Empty.
I opened his closet and stared at the bare rod.
He’d packed his car. He must have gotten up when I left and started packing. When I reached over to kiss him before I left this morning, he knew he was leaving me.
The erratic ping of hail began.
“I KNOW I’VE BEEN HARD TO LIVE WITH LATELY.” HE ALWAYS had been, with his operatic moods. He’d been miserable to live with lately, but I’d never once thought, “Oh, he’s hard to live with, let’s end our marriage.” I’d only thought I should do all I could to get him through his crisis.
THE LAUNDRY. I BET THERE WAS A PAIR OF WOOL SOCKS IN the laundry. I opened the hamper. Four pairs of my own panties lay curled in one corner. He’d even taken his dirty laundry.
The hail sounded like someone pouring gravel on the roof.
INSIDE THE BARN, I DASHED INTO EACH STALL TO CLOSE the back doors and slide the thick Plexiglas panels into the windows, clenching my teeth against the pain in my arm. Of course the kicker refused to come inside, huddling instead in the corner of his paddock. He turned his butt to me when I called him. I didn’t blame him since he’d been held prisoner in a stall for more than a month, but I felt horrible as I closed his door, shutting him outside.
I caught my breath until it hit me: Bobby just left. That really happened.
Was he caught on the road in the storm? Or had he reached wherever he was staying? Was he thinking of me, wondering if I was safe? Would he call Gabriella? Please, please, let Gabriella be safe, still far from here in Lexington and not on a bus yet. I dialed her cell, but my call went straight to voice mail. “Call me when you can, babe. We’re getting a tornado here and I want you to stay safely put somewhere until it’s over.”
Something hit the barn door hard enough to knock down the pitchfork hanging on the wall. A hideous metallic screeching came from one corner of the barn, and I hoped the roof held.
Zeppelin, the pony, appeared to be sleeping, but his eyes were shut too tight and his tail swished. Perhaps it was denial or just his Zen way of waiting out the storm.
I opened Biscuit’s stall. My daughter’s horse was bombproof, never one to shy at invisible “goblins” on windy days. The storm didn’t seem to faze him at all. Muriel, the goat, lay near Biscuit’s hairy hooves, legs tucked under her. I didn’t bother putting her back in her own stall.
A blur of motion caught my peripheral vision and I turned but saw nothing. I hoped it was that orange cat I’d been spotting on the property. A huge but scrawny feral creature abandoned when the neighbors to the north were arrested for the meth lab they operated deep in their wooded acres. It struck me I hadn’t seen the cat for days. How many?
Bobby left.
That reality hit me behind the knees, sinking me to the floor. I leaned against Biscuit’s stall, my knees to my chest, hugging my right arm. I ached all over.
Bobby made me a latte yesterday morning. He’d driven Gabby to school, with her suitcase for the tournament, and brought back my favorite orange-and-cranberry scones. He’d come into my office as I sat researching an iguana’s skin condition. He’d kissed my neck before he left for the restaurant. He did all that when he knew he was leaving?