Truly, Madly, Like Me - Jo Watson Page 0,52

cute photos of; do you know how many likes teacup poodles get, or French bulldogs? I once saw this video of a French bulldog in a bowtie, it went viral. That’s the kind of dog I would love, not Cujo!” I slumped onto the table again, overcome by my very inconvenient feelings.

It occurred to me, right there and then, that Cujo was the first creature that I’d cared this much about in a very long time. I didn’t even care this much when @TheKyleWhite101 had gone in for his pec implants. He’d threatened me with death if I ever told anyone about them. He had a genetic deficiency, he called it. All the men in his family had small pecs, no matter how much they worked out, and he needed pecs for his personal brand. It had been a long surgery, but I’d mainly spent the time weighing in on some Twitter war that was happening. And when they’d finally wheeled him out of surgery all groggy from the anesthetic and moaning from the pain, in truth, I hadn’t really felt that much.

But now, I was feeling a lot. I didn’t want Cujo to be in pain, I hoped Samirah would give him painkillers. I hoped he would remember me. I hoped he would lick my hand and bark like he used to, because right now, he was the closest thing I had to a friend.

A real friend.

And maybe he’d been more of a friend to me in the last few days than some of my other online friends had been to me in years. Like Suzanne. When I needed her the most, she’d ghosted me. Same as my sister. But Cujo was still here, and I felt closer and more connected to him than I’d felt to anyone in a very, very long time.

“What’s going on?” Mark burst my bubble.

“Why?” I looked up at him.

“Looks like you are having some big aha moment there?” He poured the boiled water into the cups and then walked the tea over to the table and sat down across from me.

I shook my head. “Aha moment. I don’t think so.” I grabbed the tea and took a sip, and this time I kind of knew I was lying to myself again too.

Because I was having an aha moment. An aha moment about the kind of life I’d been living up until that point. The kind of relationships I’d had. And I didn’t much like it.

CHAPTER 25

I’m not sure how long Mark and I sat there in total silence sipping tea together. But it felt like forever. Time seemed to be dragging on in a way that was making it feel like it had stopped altogether. The silence between us was strange. Comfortable, but strange. It was as if we’d both decided not to speak to each other at all, even though no such agreement had been made. We had fallen into it naturally, for some reason. The only noise in the room, other than the occasional sipping of tea, was the snoring of dogs in the corner.

Finally, Samirah’s head came around the corner. I jumped out of my seat and raised my brows in question.

“He’s out,” she said with a smile.

“Is he . . .?” I let the question hang in the air and she gave me the biggest, warmest smile I’d ever seen.

“Absolutely fine.”

At those words I felt a sense of relief flood over me. I held my head in my hands for a moment or two, because it felt like it was spinning.

“And here.” She held her hand out.

“What’s that?” I asked, reaching out.

She opened her hand and I saw the immobilizer; I had totally forgotten about it. Somewhere along the way, that had become the last thing on my mind.

“Th-thanks.” I stumbled over my words. “Can I see him?”

“Sure.”

We followed Samirah out the house and into the small cottage outside. Cujo was lying on a big bed on the floor. His one eye was open slightly, and when he saw me, his tail made the slightest attempt at a wag and my heart felt like it might explode. I walked over to him and was about to reach out and pat his head when I saw his stomach and the scars across it. And I don’t mean the fresh scar that Samirah had made. His stomach was shaved and it looked like it was crisscrossed with lines and deep wounds. I looked up at Samirah with wide eyes.

“What’s all this?”

She