The Blessings of the Animals: A Novel - By Katrina Kittle Page 0,65

while” would become forever.

I closed my eyes. Why couldn’t these painkillers knock me out?

“Could you all give us a minute?” Bobby asked.

Mimi and Tyler left quickly, but Gabriella stared at us for a moment before walking out.

“You’re going to need help,” Bobby said. His voice was kind.

I kept my voice kind as well. “You don’t get to help me, sweetie. Not anymore.” I returned to that prayerful calm of Gerald’s purring. “I can’t go from you packing your car and leaving to allowing you to care for me while I’m injured. The leap from A to B is too big. It asks me to act like A never happened. I can’t make that leap. I . . . I’m really surprised that you can.”

Bobby nodded, and when Vijay returned with the discharge nurse, Bobby quietly left.

ONCE HOME, THE INJURY GAVE ME THE PERMISSION I hadn’t given myself to just unravel. I slept, usually at ten- to twelve-hour stretches at a time. I’d wake up with Gerald cuddled up to me. When I was awake, he’d work himself under my hands; the “self-petting cat,” I came to call him.

I ran my hands over his shoulder, where the new coat growth pleased my fingertips like velvet. We’d done a good job on that surgery.

Gerald hadn’t stressed himself out pretending he still had all four legs, acting maniacally like his amputation had never happened. He’d acknowledged that he’d lost something and then set about learning how to move on without it.

Vijay stayed at the farm for three days before he had to return to New York. When he presented saag from his mother, I ate every last bite.

“Did you ask Bobby?” Vijay asked. “About working to fix things?”

I nodded.

“What did he say?”

I shook my head.

Instead of saying, “I told you so,” or railing at Bobby, Vijay just said, “I’m sorry.” He knew what I needed, he knew how much it hurt. Even if it was the right thing, he knew how horrifically it hurt.

My mother did laundry, helped me wash, and kept the pantry stocked.

The Davids came over daily, Davy on his way to school each morning. Big David stopped by on his way home from the bakery, bringing scones and watering plants.

Olive and Nick brought dinner and movies.

Hank made more mac ’n’ cheese and called from work each day to entertain me.

Aurora handled Animal Kind on her own without complaint, and even though I knew the schedule had to slam her, she still found time to visit me almost daily.

Gabriella and Helen took care of the feeding and stalls.

Gabriella came in one evening odd and aloof. I was desperate for conversation, but she was monosyllabic in her responses. She sat on the couch, distractedly petting Max. “The crew okay?” I asked. I missed Moonshot.

She nodded.

I waited, and when she offered nothing else, I said, “You wanna eat with me?”

“I ate already.” She looked only at Max. “Dad brought me some veal marsala.”

Before I could think of a response, she said, with a defensive edge, “I invited him.”

“You two could have eaten in the house, you know. He’s allowed inside.” It didn’t trouble me so much that she’d invited him but that she hadn’t told me, that neither of them had included me.

“Is he?” she said, her voice icy.

Keep breathing. “Gabriella, anytime you want to see your father, he’s welcome here.”

Her face contorted as she fought not to cry. “Why did you say no?” she wailed.

When I looked confused, she said, “At the hospital! He was going to move back in!”

Oh.

“You said no! We could’ve all gone back to normal.”

I breathed as deeply as my ribs allowed. “Gabby, when your dad said he’d stay here, he meant temporarily, to help out while I recover.”

“How do you know? If he were here, who knows what would happen?”

How much should I tell her? Would it help her? Hurt her? I felt like I walked a tightrope. “Did your dad tell you that he and I met for a talk the morning I fell?”

She shook her head.

I told her about our conversation. I tried to speak neutrally, just reporting the facts. I didn’t tell her Zayna had been there.

My daughter studied my face. “Really? You would’ve let him come back and tried to fix it?”

I nodded. “I think we could have, but to be fair to your dad, I’m not sure that would’ve been right, for any of us. When you said we could go back to ‘normal’ . . . well, now that I’ve had