The Blessings of the Animals: A Novel - By Katrina Kittle Page 0,81
with his missing leg), happy to notice Max and Muriel playing a game of head-butt tag. I saw so many things I hadn’t seen before.
It was with this new vision and with my eyes wide open that I accepted Vijay’s invitation for a weekend in New York.
“Someone should be having fun,” Davy said.
VIJAY WAS WORKING LATE WHEN I ARRIVED AT LA GUARDIA. An apologetic voice mail waited for me when I landed. I took a cab to the Outbreak studio to collect the keys, and Vijay kissed me in front of his coworkers—a kiss that made my head swirl. I almost walked into a wall as he ushered me back to the street. A second kiss, longer, followed when he tucked me into another cab.
When I unlocked Vijay’s brownstone—yes, the whole brownstone—on the Upper West Side, I couldn’t help but think, “This could be my house.” Right inside—beside a giant slanting pile of mail, as if he hadn’t been home in days—I slipped off my shoes and lined them next to his.
As I wandered from room to room, I learned that Vijay had a prescription for Ambien and that his fridge was empty, save for an old take-out container. I learned that he sent his clothing out to be laundered and that he slept on only one side of his bed, the other side piled high with clothes.
I looked at that bed and knew Vijay had been too busy to prepare for my visit. He’d had a tough week, apparently. Well, I could certainly understand long hours.
He called around 7:50. “A couple more hours,” he promised.
I decided to walk through the neighborhood. I noted a good Italian grocery store Bobby would’ve liked. My nose and growling stomach took me to a small Middle Eastern place, where I dined alone on lamb so succulent I hardly had to chew.
Back at Vijay’s house, it felt odd to be in a home with no other beings—not even plants, I realized. I watched TV until 11 p.m., then chose to sleep on the sofa rather than move his mountain of clothes from the bed.
LIPS BRUSHED MY CHEEK. VIJAY KNELT BESIDE THE COUCH. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered. His eyes were bloodshot. “This just came up. A huge MRSA outbreak. We’re trying to finish a new episode to squeeze it in out of order. I’m sorry. After we planned for you to come—”
I pressed my fingers to his lips. He kissed them. My entire body yearned for this man kneeling beside me. Sleep had relaxed me; I felt open, fluid. But Vijay’s skin seemed gray, every line on his face etched deeper. “Oh, Vij. Go. Sleep. We have tomorrow.”
His forehead crinkled. “I have to go in tomorrow.”
Disappointment pushed me deeper into the couch, but I remembered Bobby’s poutiness when I’d left on rescues or other work emergencies. I convinced Vijay to go down to his bedroom and sleep. I loved this city. I’d go exploring. When he came home the next day, then we’d play.
It was 2:07 a.m., but I heard the musical chord of his computer coming on in his office below me and the quick clicks of keystrokes. I padded downstairs and stood in the doorway. Pictures of methicillin-resistant Staphylococcus aureus showed up on his computer screen, and he furiously typed notes. I tiptoed away and went back to sleep on the couch.
I WOKE UP TO THE SHOWER RUNNING. SEVEN-THIRTY. UGH. How did he function?
“I’m sorry, Cam,” Vijay said, coming into the kitchen, where I’d made him coffee. “I didn’t even get the house cleaned. You slept on the couch! I feel like a total shit.”
“Please. Stuff happens.”
My heart soared as he kissed me with careful, undivided attention. I kissed back, with fervor, and just as I was hoping I might be able to delay his departure for the office, he pulled away. “I have to go,” he said, in a strangled voice. “God. I don’t want to, but I have to.”
He swayed, his eyes vague, as if drugged. “I’ll be home around four. Maybe earlier.” He made a move as if to kiss me good-bye, then stepped back, realizing the danger.
When he left, I wanted to claw my own skin off. I crawled into his bed and smoothed my hands over some of those silky black hairs left on his sheets, as if a sleek panther had slept there.
I WANTED TO MAKE A FABULOUS, SEXY MEAL FOR VIJAY.
I decided on carbonara. When Bobby and I traveled in Italy, I’d ordered it at