Do or Di (15 page)

Jonathon shot me a look and then stared back out the front window. In the car no one said anything. Diana was mumbling under her breath. I softly stroked Rooster’s side. I felt like I could start crying at any moment, the tears a hot fist jammed in my throat. I could see Diana gripping the door handle, leaving smudges on the cream leather.

The emergency vet clinic didn’t blink an eye when the Lexus pulled up and spilled out this odd assortment of people. Diana cradled Rooster in her arms handing him solemnly over to the vet who disappeared in the back. The three of us sat in the molded plastic seats waiting. After a few minutes Jonathon reached over and took my hand, giving it a short squeeze. The vet finally came out.

“I’ve got Rooster on an IV. You can go back and sit with him if you want.”

Diana jumped up and rushed to the examination room. I waited until she was gone.

“Is he going to be okay?”

“The blood tests show brodifacoum, it’s the active ingredient in rat poison. Not too uncommon for these dogs. They find a lot of food in alleys and in Dumpsters around restaurants. The restaurants put out the poison to keep the rats away. The poison is an anti-coagulant, it keeps the blood from clotting. Rooster has most likely been sick for several days but it all came to a head now; basically what’s happening is he’s bleeding out. Hemorrhaging.”

My lower lip started to shake.

“Are you going to put him down?” Jonathon asked.

“It wouldn’t be humane to let the dog suffer. I might need your assistance to help your friend understand that.”

“There’s nothing at all you can do?” I looked around the office as if seeking a solution. “Nothing at all? There isn’t a treatment for this kind of thing?”

“We could do a blood transfusion and pump the dog with vitamin K. That would counteract the effects of the poison.”

“Then why would you put Rooster down?”

“The treatment is expensive. There is the cost of the transfusion as well as the cost of round the clock care for two to three days minimum, especially knowing that the dog would be back on the street. The cost of the medication alone is a couple of hundred dollars. The total bill will be in the thousands.” The vet shrugged, his shoulders weighing him down. “It’s clear she doesn’t have the funds. I wish we could cover the costs in cases like this, but we can’t afford to do that.”

“I’ll pay for it,” I said.

“Erin, we’re talking a lot of money. There is no guarantee this would even save the dog’s life,” Jonathon said.

“We have to at least try.” I looked at him. Didn’t he understand? “We can’t just give up because it’s expensive.”

“There are risks when animals are homeless. You could get him better and then have the same problem in a week,” the vet pointed out.

“They aren’t homeless.” Both the vet and Jonathon gave me a look. “She isn’t. I know she has some problems at home. It’s possible she hasn’t wanted to go home for a day or two, but she has a home. She’s just a kid.” I yanked out my purse and wallet. “Please. I’ll pay. Please just do something.”

The vet shook my hand and then disappeared in the back again. We went back to sitting. Jonathon darted a few looks at his watch.

“You have to go, don’t you?”

“I’m sorry. I would stay if I could, but my wife will be home soon.”

“I know. It’s okay. I’m sorry the afternoon turned out this way. You never got to see how the bread would turn out.”

“We’ll have to finish cooking next time I come over,” he said with a small smirk in the corner of his mouth. He stood, brushing the flour off his pants.

“Deal. Will you let me make dinner for you next time?”

“Let you?” He brushed a strand of hair off my face. “I would honored if you made me dinner.” He gave me a soft kiss. “Can you get home from here? Do you need money for a cab or anything?”

“No, I’m fine.” I gave him a small push. “Go on. Give me a call when you can.”

I sat back down in the seat and tried to get interested in an ancient copy of
People
.
There was an article on Hollywood’s favorite couple. Their arms were wrapped around each other and I could see a quote on how they knew they’d be together forever. I’d heard on
ET
they’d already broken up. They looked out from the pages, tanned and smiling. They had no idea where things were headed.

“Did your husband have to leave?” the receptionist asked. She held out a clipboard of forms for me to fill out. Payment information. So much for any plans I had to take a cruise in the spring.

“He’s not my husband.”

“Oh,” she said in a flat tone. I looked up. She spun her wedding ring around her finger, looking at me. Had she seen a ring on Jonathon? Did she know we were having an affair? Her face lacked any expression. I couldn’t tell. What the hell did it matter anyway?

“How long will we be here?”

“It is up to you. Rooster will be here for a few days. If you want, you and your friend can stay for a few hours to wait until the dog is settled. Dr. Gilbert has started some pain medication; it should help the dog calm down a bit. He’ll start the transfusion soon.” She took the clipboard back and went back to her desk.

I pulled my feet up under me and curled into the chair to wait. I looked down at the photo of the smiling starlet. I wasn’t aware I was crying until the tears splashed down on her face.

Diana and I stayed at the emergency vet clinic until close to midnight. She sat for hours next to Rooster singing softly into the dog’s ear. I think she would have stayed for days, but I convinced her to leave. I took her back to my place. She walked around the condo stiffly, unable to sit still. She said she wasn’t hungry, but when I laid out some sandwiches she lunged on them.

“So, what has been going on?” I asked as she inhaled the food.

“What do you mean?” She looked up at me, a smear of mustard on her upper lip.

I paused. I wasn’t sure how to bring the topic up.

“Have you been home lately?”

Her eyes slid to the side, not meeting mine.

“At the moment my home situation is…somewhat unsettled.”

“You’re sixteen.”

“Outwardly I am fifteen, but I also have Diana and she was thirty-six. So combined, I’m plenty old enough to care for myself.”

“There is nothing wrong with wanting help once in a while.”

“Except there isn’t anyone you can count on to help. Diana learned even people she thought were her closest friends would sell her out.”

“You need to get over this whole Princess Diana thing. You and I both know that you aren’t channeling her, or any other member of the royal family.”

“How do you know? What makes you so sure?”

“Apart from the fact that I live in reality?”

“Why is what you believe reality? Maybe your problem is you don’t like it that I know the princess and you don’t.”

“Listen, People’s Princess, where are you staying?”

Diana gave me sulky look. I could see dark circles under her eyes, like bruises.

“With friends.”

“Friends?”

“Mmm-hmm.” She dragged a corner of the sandwich along the plate. “How are things with Jonathon?”

“None of your business. Let’s get back to your situation.”

“Maybe that is none of
your
business.” She slid off the seat pulling on her jacket. “I should go.”

“I think you should stay until we sort out what’s going on. If you’re feeling that you can’t be at home, we can check out options. I’m sure there’s a foster program or something so you feel safe.”

She didn’t say anything, just gave me a vague smile and headed out. The door shut softly behind, so quiet that the click was an apology.

The rest of the weekend was quiet. I called the vet’s office several times. Rooster was doing better; he was up and drinking water. He still couldn’t keep down solids, but the vet was confident he would pull through. I kept waiting to see if Diana would show up again. I debated briefly driving by her house again, but I wasn’t sure if this was a good idea or not. On Sunday night I tried to reach her. The phone rang, but no one picked up. Tomorrow I would see Colin. I thought he might call, but he hadn’t. Then again having drunken women falling into his bed and spending the night might be second nature to him.

We’re both adults. It was a one-night thing, a one-night thing where nothing even really happened. In fact, considering that we’re pretending to have a relationship, what happened could be considered research. Technically, I might even be able to claim the night as overtime hours. Not that I would, I’m just pointing out that it isn’t as if I’d enjoyed the entire experience. It was work. Okay, technically not work. My mind scrambled around to find a word that would define the whole experience.

“Why is everything falling apart?” I said into the empty air of my condo. Times like this I’m glad I live alone. Then again, it’s possible that living alone was what led to me talking aloud when no one was there. “I just want my life to work out. None of this is my fault.” I cocked an ear, listening for a sign. Nothing.

I hadn’t heard from Jonathon all weekend. I couldn’t imagine that he was upset that our night together had been interrupted. It had been an emergency. It wasn’t as if it was how I wanted the evening to go. I can’t imagine dog hair in his car would be like lipstick on his collar that would cause him problems at home. There must be hundreds of ways to explain random dog hair. I left him two voice mails which is one voice mail too many. Multiple messages are just another way of screaming “
I’m a needy woman! Practically a stalker. I’m the kind of person who would boil your pet bunny. Run!”
There was a moment on Sunday afternoon when I briefly considered trying to break into his house to steal his phone to delete the messages before he could hear them. Then an even more awful thought came to me. Maybe he got the messages and just hasn’t called. I felt the need to talk to him, to ground myself in my feelings for him. I baked up the bread we had started. I froze a loaf for him. Every so often I would pick up the phone to make sure it was still working.

I sat on the couch with my feet tucked up underneath me and ate ice cream. I considered it medicinal. I was counting on the cool, mellow ice cream to combat the hot stomach acid I had boiling around. A sudden knock at the door took me by surprise. I shuffled over in my giant rag wool socks and opened the door, the spoon in my mouth.

“This is how people develop issues with food,” Diana said, walking past me while pointing at the ice cream carton. “Food is not a cure for stress.”

“Where the heck have you been? I’ve called your house and no one picks up the phone. I wasn’t happy with you just walking out of here the other night.”

“You’re really high-strung.” She looked at me and put a hand to her chest. “Trust me, I’m not making fun. I used to be the same way. Diana was the one who got me to mellow out. What you need is a project, something to worry about other than yourself.”

“I worry about a lot of things.”

“You worry about things that are out of your control and ignore the things that are. Take things with Jonathon. The relationship is just wrong.”