The Beginning of After

by Jennifer Castle

  “Draw what you remember,” Suzie had said. “Draw what you feel. Write a word on the page, like angry, and then give it form.”

  So I tried to do that, but my drawing slowly morphed into the faces of dogs and cats I’d met at the hospital.

  Finally, Meg called me at noon sharp.

  “It’s done! I’m free!” I heard laughter in the background. “Wanna play today?”

  “I have to work, remember?” I said, then tried to make my voice a shade lighter. “Come up tonight and we’ll make ice cream sundaes.”

  So later, Meg and I sat outside on our back patio, eating Rocky Road topped with frosted cornflakes and whipped cream. I knew the rest of the junior class was at a bowling alley for the traditional “Now We’re Seniors!” party.

  “There’s still time to go over to Pin World,” I offered after we’d slurped together for a few minutes. “I won’t mind.”

  Meg licked her spoon and tried not to seem like she was thinking about it. “Maybe. But the person I really want to celebrate with is you, so what’s the point?” She paused. “It was really weird not having you at school.”

  “It was weird not being there. But you know . . .”

  “I know.” She plunged her spoon back into the sundae for another load. “But you’re going back in September, right?”

  September felt so far away. Far enough that I could say, “Of course,” and not think about it anymore.

  “What are you going to do about the stuff you missed? Will they let you finish over the summer?”

  “I think so. Mr. Churchwell talked to Nana and said I should contact him as soon as I’m ready.”

  Meg nodded and examined my face. “Let me know if you need help, okay?”

  I always got better grades than Meg, but I saw she needed to offer something.

  “I would love that,” I said, and we smiled at each other.

  As soon as I’m ready.

  Well, what the heck. I didn’t know what ready was supposed to feel like, so now seemed as good a time as any. The next day, I sent an email to Mr. Churchwell through the school website.

  Hi, it’s Laurel Meisner. I’d like to finish my schoolwork and finals for the year. Can you help me?

  He wrote back almost immediately, while I was still online, which made me sad to think he was sitting in his office alone, the school emptied of students.

  Laurel! I was hoping you’d get in touch and that you are well. I spoke to your teachers, and since you have an A average in all of your classes and you only missed about two weeks of regular course work, they’re going to excuse you from that. However, there is the issue of the New York State Regents exams (U.S. History, English, and Trigonometry this year), which I highly recommend you take if you want to stay on track. You can still do that in August. I will send you some information, and please let me know if you need anything; you can reach me at this address at any time.

  Ugh, the Regents. I’d forgotten about those, which I would have taken in June with everyone else if the accident hadn’t happened. Dad would have quizzed me on the practice tests, and Mom would have bought me a bouquet made of one flower for every point I scored above ninety.

  Mr. Churchwell had said, Stay on track.

  I had a job and was going to therapy and generally functioning as a human being. Was that staying on track? If it was, I wanted to stay some more.

  I wrote back to him to say yes, and please, and thank you.

  On the day David was scheduled to come in with Masher, I found myself reluctant to put on either of the two scrub shirts we’d bought. One was black and white printed with dogs chasing one another’s tails, and the other was a simple blue with a cat embroidered on the pocket. Both made me look like I was wearing a costume, which I’d liked before today. Now it seemed too obvious.

  To feel more like me, I found one of my favorite necklaces: a silver chain with a small silver disk stamped with my name. Toby had given it to me for my last birthday, and I hadn’t been able to admit to him how much I loved it.

  I also blow-dried my hair for the first time in weeks.

  Was I looking forward to this or dreading it?

  You’re going to show him you’re doing just fine, I thought, knowing that it probably didn’t even matter to him whether I was fine or not.

  The appointment was for two o’clock, and the morning went slowly. I tried not to keep checking the time. Now that school was out, I was working full days, and it was taking some getting used to. Fortunately, Eve asked me to join her for lunch. It wasn’t an invitation, it was more like, “Tamara said she’ll watch the front desk while we go eat.”

  We’d been friendly, but the busy and sometimes tense hospital atmosphere didn’t allow for much chitchat. Which was one of many things I loved about being there, and now I was nervous about having a real conversation with Eve.

  She was nineteen, going to the community college and living at home while she “worked on the animal thing,” as she called it. “There are a lot of paths I could take. I’m trying to figure out which one,” she told me over burritos at Taco Bell, with a straight, serious face, and offered no additional explanation. She didn’t ask me any questions about myself, and I didn’t offer. I was just supposed to be some girl in high school, and not have any stories yet.

  When we got back, it was one thirty, and although I settled in to do some photocopying, I glanced up every time the front door opened.

  David could be early. He could show up late. I didn’t know him well enough to make a call on that.

  Eve noticed my anticipation. “Expecting someone?”

  “Masher’s coming in today. His owner . . . my friend . . . is bringing him.”

  My friend. That felt like another little lie.

  At two exactly, the door opened and I looked up, and there they were. I pictured David sitting in his father’s Jaguar in the parking lot, watching the minutes change so he could pinpoint the exact punctual moment to get out of the car.

  The waiting room was empty, but Masher seemed to remember getting bullied before and sniffed the air nervously. David saw me and sort-of waved with one hand, pulled off his sunglasses with the other.

  “Hi, Laurel,” he said, sounding formal, his eyes sweeping the space. He was dressed in a long-sleeved thermal shirt and black corduroys, even though it was easily eighty-five degrees outside.

  “Welcome,” I said, giving formal back to him.

  I came through the half door that separated the front desk area from the waiting room, and as soon as Masher saw me he ran over and jumped up. I caught his front paws in my hands and let him lick my face. David seemed puzzled.

  “How’s he doing?” I asked after I finally got the dog off me.

  “Good.” He paused. I noticed now that he’d put something in his hair to slick the sides back behind his ears, which looked newborn pink and too exposed. “I think he’s been a little sore or something. That’s actually the first time I’ve seen him stand up like that.”

  I nodded, and now that the moment had turned awkward, I wondered how I could smoothly get back behind the safety of the front desk.

  “How’s the job?” asked David, and looked me in the eye.

  “I love it,” I replied, loud enough so Eve could hear.

  I wasn’t sure what to do next but fortunately, Eve piped up, “Why don’t you take them into room two? Dr. B will be there in a minute.”

  So I led David and Masher to the exam room, David holding onto Masher’s leash but Masher walking close to me. Once we were in, I wasn’t sure whether to stay or go. I waited for an invitation from David, but it didn’t come. He just examined the poster of two golden puppies in football jerseys and blackout under their eyes—“Wide Retrievers”—and let out a little laugh.

  I had no idea what to say so I didn’t say anything, which seemed the worst choice of all, as I left the room and closed the door behind me.

  Fifteen minutes passed. I spent most of it on the phone with a client who was disappoint
ed with the grooming her Persian cat had received at a pet store, and wanted a promise from Dr. B that he could fix it.

  “They were supposed to give him the lion cut, but he looks more like a poodle!” the woman said, on the verge of tears.

  Eve and I had developed a hand signal for this type of call; I put a finger-gun to my head and pretended to shoot. Eve smiled, glad she’d dodged that bullet.

  Finally, I heard a door creak open and Dr. B appeared. He was filling out some forms.

  “We’re going to do a blood panel on Masher to check his coagulation levels and overall health. Apparently it’s been a while since he had a checkup or even any vaccinations. Pam Fischer has all his records, so call over there to get them faxed.”

  Dr. B shot me a puzzled look, and although I knew he was wondering why I hadn’t brought Masher to his regular vet that day, I remained silent. If he wasn’t going to ask directly, I was definitely not going to answer.

  The doctor disappeared again, and then I heard footsteps through the waiting room. I looked up just in time to see David walking out the front door, then watched him through the window as he sank down onto the stone bench right outside.

  When I stepped out to join him, he was sitting on his hands, staring into space. He just glanced up at me with no expression.

  “The doctor says it’s going to be a few minutes,” he said, and I just nodded. I’d watched a lot of clients waiting on this bench for test results and good news and bad news. It was designed to look like a big rabbit, with one end shaped like the head and the other, the tail and hind legs. Most people got on their cell phones or whipped out a magazine. But David didn’t seem to need anything to pass the time.

  Finally, I found something to say. “How is it, staying with your cousins?”

  He shrugged. “It’s not fun, but they leave me alone. It’ll do until I can figure out my next move.”

  My next move, like he had a plan.

  I knew I should ask him about his father, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. It opened up too much for me that was so neatly shut tight.

  Instead, I offered, “I’m sorry about not taking Masher to Dr. Fischer. I knew she was your vet.”

  He looked up at me and there was something about his eyes, suddenly warm and familiar. “It’s okay. I know why.”

  The relief of that washed over me, and I felt like I could breathe for the first time all day.

  Then David slid over on the bench to make room. I wasn’t supposed to be on a break, but I sat.

  “My grandparents went down to their place in Florida,” he said flatly.

  “I noticed I hadn’t seen them around.”

  “They want me to come stay with them, but I don’t know. . . . On one hand, there’s the beach. On the other hand, there’s two old people who annoy the living crap out of me.” He swept a glance up and down my face. “Your grandmother is much cooler than mine.”

  I’d never thought of Nana as “cool,” but apparently everything is relative.

  David let out a long sigh, the kind that takes forever to wear out and seems to contain every emotion at once. Neither of us spoke again, and we both just gazed at nothing. The silence was almost comfortable now.

  Finally, the front door opened and Robert appeared with Masher.

  “We’ll call you with the results sometime tomorrow,” he said to David, handing him the leash. Then he turned to me and said, “Eve needs you.”

  I bent down to Masher, who now had a small bandage on his right foreleg from getting blood drawn, and hugged him quickly.

  “Bye, buddy.” I forced it to sound businesslike and cold.

  “Bye, Laurel,” David said, as if answering for him. “It was good seeing you.”

  I looked up, a little surprised, and then suddenly tired of always feeling that way about David. Some of his hair had fallen out of the slick-back and across his eyes, and I had a sudden urge to sweep it away. Those eyes were my favorite part of him, and I hated to see them covered up.

  Wait—I had a favorite part of him?

  “Let me know what happens, okay?” I said quickly, trying to de-focus from his face, sounding purposely vague. I wasn’t sure when I’d see either of them again. He could be back next week, or never.

  David nodded slowly and smiled a bit, although sadly, and this was possibly the closest thing to a farewell that we could hope for.

  I went inside and didn’t look back.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Masher, as it turned out, had the beginnings of arthritis; plus, he still needed vitamin K for another two weeks. The arthritis wasn’t related to the poisoning, but Dr. B felt it had probably come on recently.

  “Stress can trigger it,” he was saying on the phone to David, down the hall but loud enough so I could hear his end of the conversation from where I sat at the front desk. I could tell that Dr. B was prodding for some more information, and I was hoping David wouldn’t offer anything up.

  “Well, I’ll find a pharmacy near you and call in a prescription,” he continued, then added a reminder to keep Masher on the vitamin K until it ran out.

  Then he was quiet for a few moments, listening to David. I wished I could hear a little of David’s voice on the other end of the phone, but I was too far away.

  “Let me ask around for some vet recommendations in that area,” said Dr. B. “There’s got to be someone good you can go to so you don’t have to drive an hour every time he needs to be seen.”

  Something in me lurched. Did David ask for that information, or did Dr. B volunteer it? Did David not want to come back here?

  I couldn’t let it go. Every time I saw the bench outside, I relived those moments. David scooting over to make room for me. David and I sitting together. That comfortable silence and the strange almost-freshness of the air between us.

  When Suzie asked me about work during one of our sessions, I found myself omitting the story of David’s visit. She knew I’d seen David and that we’d apologized, and that he had Masher now. She stopped asking about him, which made sense. Why would he matter? On paper he was just a footnote.

  A few days later I gave in once again to the email drafts in my head, and sent Masher a message.

  Hi, Masher. I hear you’ve got arthritis now. That sucks. But I’m sure David’s taking good care of you and I’m here if you need anything.

  I wasn’t sure what kind of response I was hoping for. I just wanted a response, period. Something to grab onto, although I didn’t know what I’d do with it once I did.

  The reply came the next day: Thanks. I’ll be okay.

  It wasn’t exactly an answer I could grab. But I could touch it, and that was enough.

  The rest of July passed quickly. It was a busy time at Ashland, with people going on vacation and boarding their pets, animals getting dehydrated from the heat or infested with fleas. Dr. B had another vet come part-time to fill in the gaps.

  I’d mastered the phones and the filing, and loved walking the dogs because they reminded me of Masher and because it forced me to explore the streets around the hospital. Unfamiliar houses owned by unfamiliar people, and I didn’t mind looking up to say hi when someone passed me on the sidewalk, because I knew I was a stranger to them. It still amazed me that even though I was less than ten miles from my neighborhood, I might as well have been in another state.

  Eve found a nice family—blond parents, blond boy, blond girl, right out of a magazine—for the tabby cat twins Bryce and Denali. Then she placed Ophelia in a temporary “foster home,” aka a friend of hers who got suckered in, because the hospital needed the kennel space.

  One day, we were all so busy that we had to work through lunch and Dr. B ordered in pizza for the staff. A bunny came in that had been attacked by a dog, and a cat who had a hairball stuck in its digestive system needed emergency surgery. When these kinds of life-and-death dramas swept through, I felt almost ill on adrenaline but tried to be as useful as I could. Please don’t die, I’d think while we waited for the outcom
e, watching the pet’s owner in the waiting room, planning to disappear if Dr. B came out with bad news. A few times, he did. I’d go into the bathroom and spend a long time making it really, really clean.

  When we were finally caught up, and Tamara said Eve and I could go home, Eve turned to me and said, “I need a little coffee after that one. How about you?”

  We stepped out into the late afternoon heat, and I followed her down the street to a strip mall. There was a café where we often had lunch.

  After we ordered, I instinctively scanned the room to see if I recognized anyone, expecting that relief I’d gotten used to here.

  Except I did see someone I knew.

  Joe Lasky, sitting at the back of the room, staring at me.

  I was so surprised that there was no way I could pretend not to see him. I smiled briefly at him, and he smiled back.

  Okay, maybe that was that. I turned to Eve. But she looked over my shoulder and nudged me.

  “Some cutie’s coming over to us,” she said.

  I turned again to see Joe bouncing in our direction, a little too quickly, like he wanted to get it over with.

  “Hey, Laurel,” he said.

  “Hi, Joe.”

  “I’m on my break from the movie theater,” he replied to a question I hadn’t asked. He pointed with his thumb to our left, and I remembered the little art house cinema at the other end of the shopping center. “What are you up to?”

  “Just trying to cool off,” I said, as Eve handed me my drink.

  “We’ve had a furry day,” said Eve, with no sense of how absurd that sounded.

  Joe frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “It’s a long story,” I said. We were all silent for a moment, so I added, “This is my friend Eve . . . Eve, this is Joe, from my school.”

  “Do you guys want to join me?” asked Joe.

  Eve glanced quickly between Joe and me, picking up on something. “I should get going,” she said. “But Laurel, you can stay.”