The Blessings of the Animals: A Novel - By Katrina Kittle Page 0,29
into its rash.
Bobby said something to Zayna, then he stood and came toward us.
I forgot how to walk. My coat was still half-on, half-off, cuffing my arms behind me.
He reached our frozen cluster. No one spoke until Gabby said, “I hate you,” then walked out.
Davy said, “I’ll follow her.”
Helen followed Davy out the door, Big David and Hank two steps behind her, leaving me standing there alone with Bobby, hopelessly mired in my coat sleeves.
“Here,” he said, reaching out to help me, sliding the coat up my arms. He turned me to face him, leaving his hands on my shoulders. I stepped back, almost recoiling, making him drop his hands. He held them awkwardly at his sides and I saw he wasn’t wearing his wedding band. Two days and he’d already taken it off! I wanted to hurl my ring at his head. I wanted the diamond to embed itself in his eye and blind him.
“So,” I said, “looks like you took care of those issues pretty quickly.”
He frowned. “What?”
“Those issues you said were going to keep you from ‘ever being with anyone ever again.’ ”
He stepped closer to me, lowering his voice. “It’s not how it looks.”
I barked a bitter, one-note sound. “Why didn’t you just tell me the truth?”
He looked over his shoulder, and when I realized he didn’t want other diners to overhear us, I felt a dangerous urge to cause a scene. “Why didn’t you tell me that you rented an apartment?”
Zayna took two steps toward us but saw my expression and stopped. Don’t you dare fucking talk to me. Don’t you say one word.
I looked from her to Bobby, then turned for the door. “I need to see to our daughter.”
I thought he might follow me, if not to talk to me then at least to comfort Gabriella.
But he didn’t.
IN MY BEDROOM, I LOOKED AT OUR WEDDING PHOTO ON THE bed stand. In it, Bobby held my left hand in both of his, and I reached up with my right to keep my veil from flying away in the wind. I kicked the table. The frame fell flat. The lamp wobbled but righted itself.
Max, who’d been asleep on the bed, sat up.
Well. That was not at all satisfying.
I kicked the stand again, harder, and tipped the whole table. The lamp wrenched its cord from the socket and fell to the floor. The frame fell but didn’t break. God damn it! I flung the picture against the wall. The glass finally shattered and sprinkled the hardwood floor. There. I kicked the wall. Pain shot through my toes and up my leg. Max whined.
I clutched my aching foot, cursing, but in a weird way, the pain felt good.
I thought of the biter sulking down in his paddock. Ah, my friend, I thought. I’m on to you.
THE NEXT DAYS BLURRED TOGETHER IN THE TOO-BRIGHT, headache-y cocktail of heartbreak, sleep deprivation, and hunger.
I buried my ring in my lingerie drawer. My thumb continually sought the ring, to spin it, startling me each time it touched only pale flesh, causing a zip of I lost it . . . then I’d remember.
Zayna quit at the clinic, “for personal reasons,” which forced me to finally gather my nine employees and tell them the news.
Aurora was outraged. “Is she even legal?” Her nose diamond flashed as she shook her head. “Classic midlife crisis. Idiot man makes ass of himself. Cami, I’m so sorry this is happening to you.” She asked if I needed some time off. But even if the clinic could afford that, what would I do with myself if I stayed home? I needed this place of emergencies and decisions. I needed the constant focus, assessment, and reaction the job required.
I caught myself doing things more characteristic of Big David’s mother, Ava: I left my keys in the car, I put my stethoscope in the refrigerator at work, and I was confused to pull a half-sandwich from my pocket when I needed to hear a puppy’s heartbeat. I found a bowl of Hank’s macaroni and cheese in the microwave a whole day after I’d put it there.
I had no appetite. Stay busy, stay busy, a frosty voice whispered in my head. I would show everyone just how strong and together I was. I’d put on a brave face for my desolate daughter.
I let the three-legged cat—who could not be called Champagne Toast—loose in our office during our lunch break, so he could try out his new moves. It never ceased