Wednesday Walks & Wags

by Melissa Storm

  The next day at work further shone a spotlight on all her problems.

  She’d almost made it to the end of her shift when Dr. Kate called her in to assist in talking to a distraught pet owner. The fact that she’d chosen Bridget for this task undoubtedly meant the owner and Bridget had something important in common, and Bridget feared she knew exactly what that might be.

  Please don’t be cancer. Please don’t be cancer, Bridget prayed silently as she stepped into the cheerfully painted exam room.

  The woman waiting there appeared to be in her late twenties—hardly older than Bridget herself—and her flame-red hair was matched only by the ruddiness of her tear-streaked cheeks. A scared cat hid beneath her chair, shrinking as close to the wall as it could possibly get without disappearing into it.

  “This is one of our vet techs, Bridget,” Dr. Kate said softly. “Bridget, this is Samantha. We just found out that her cat, Brownie, has late-stage cancer. She’s having a really hard time taking the news.”

  Bridget nodded solemnly; her prayers had gone unanswered for today at least. Apparently, she’d become the cancer expert since the disease had claimed someone special to her. But didn’t Dr. Kate understand that it had made her fear the disease that much more?

  “I’m so sorry about Brownie,” Bridget said, unable to hold back a sniffle. “News like that is never easy.”

  Samantha twisted a tissue in her hands and glanced up at Bridget. Seeming to see the ally she needed, she asked, “Am I a bad person for wanting to keep him with me as long as possible?”

  “Not at all. We all want to keep the people and animals we love close to us for as long as we possibly can.” Bridget thought of her mother’s box, sealed up tight and buried inside her closet. A constant reminder of what she’d lost. A Pandora’s box of grief.

  At least she had the box to contain some of her sorrow. Not all the pain had escaped into her world. Not yet.

  The woman before her, though, looked as if she might never smile again. “I’ve had Brownie since I was eight years old. She’s turning twenty in just a few months. I knew she couldn’t live forever, but I’m also not ready to say goodbye.”

  Dr. Kate cut in here. “I’ve suggested that she consider putting him down gently. He’s already in a good deal of pain, and it’s just going to get worse. Unfortunately, at his advanced age, there’s very little chance of his surviving a surgery, and even if he did, it would prolong his life by only months at best.”

  Why had Dr. Kate forced her into this, especially when her advice was so grim?

  Bridget wanted to be a good employee, wanted to second her boss’s advice, but she just couldn’t. Not when it came to something like this. “I lost my mom about five months ago. She had cancer, too. And you know what? I would give anything for just one more day with her.”

  Samantha smiled up at her, hope lighting her eyes.

  “Can we prescribe a painkiller to help keep Brownie comfortable?” Bridget asked the doctor. Suddenly, it became very important that she not lose Brownie. Even though she could barely see the cat in its hiding spot, she needed to save him, save Samantha the pain of this horrible disease that only took and took and never gave.

  It was Samantha who answered. “There is, but I can’t afford it. I live paycheck to paycheck as it is and had to eat ramen for a month to even be able to afford this appointment.”

  “I’ll pay for it,” Bridget promised without giving it a second thought. Of course, she didn’t have any money to spare, either, not with her increased cost of rent and school resuming in the fall. But she could get another credit card or borrow money from her dad or even start a GoFundMe. Anything to give Brownie and Samantha some more time with each other. The way she wished she’d had more time with her mom.

  “That would be amazing, but are you sure?” Samantha stopped crying and blinked up at Bridget in hopeful disbelief.

  Bridget stooped down and wrapped her arms around the other woman, even more certain now than she had been just a few seconds before. “Positive.”

  Dr. Kate shook her head in silence, but Samantha’s entire demeanor brightened. “Thank you, thank you! You’re our guardian angel,” she cried, rising from her chair and hurtling herself into Bridget’s open arms.

  It felt so good to help, even if it was only for a little while, even if it would mean that she, too, would be eating ramen all month. The two of them exchanged phone numbers and promised to stay in touch.

  And all the rest of that day, Bridget did feel a little better.

  Even though she couldn’t help herself, at least she’d found a way to help someone else.

  And for now that would have to be enough.

  Chapter 9

  Brownie was just a cat.

  She hadn’t even gotten the chance to look at him properly, but that didn’t mean Bridget could stop thinking about him—old, overtaken by the world’s most hideous disease, one paw in this world and the other in the next.

  Dr. Kate had said that Brownie had lived a very full life and for that reason everyone should feel glad. But Bridget refused to feel happy about death, no matter whom it struck. Old, young, healthy, sick . . .

  Was it ever the right time to die?

  At twenty-three she should be looking forward to finding herself, starting a career, falling in love, not focused on pinching every penny to buy medicine for some stranger’s cat, not quaking in fear as she considered her own mortality, as she mourned a mother gone too soon.

  The friends she’d made at the cancer ward had lost parents, too, but they were getting better, forming new relationships, moving on. So why then had Bridget gotten stuck?

  And would she ever get unstuck?

  Honestly, she was afraid to find out.

  She grabbed Teddy and cuddled him to her like the plush toy he’d been named for. She didn’t cry, but she also couldn’t bring herself to get out of bed and join Wesley for their nightly run.

  Helping Samantha with Brownie’s medicine had felt good, but learning about the beloved pet’s fate had wrecked her. She hadn’t even known Samantha before that afternoon, and yet her heart ached as if the woman had been her dearest friend.

  The group text she kept with her closest friends, the other three members of the Sunday Potluck Club, chimed, so she fished her phone out and responded with an LOL to Hazel’s story about yet another hilarious wedding planning mishap. So far, she’d done a pretty good job convincing her friends that she had moved on, that she was fine.

  Earlier that year, they’d all expressed their worry when she threw herself into a massive fundraiser for the animal shelter, vowing to get every cat and dog adopted by Valentine’s Day. Amy, Hazel, and Nichole had given generously of their time to help Bridget meet her crazy goal, but they’d all been very clear about how much she’d worried them.

  And so she’d gravitated toward other, less obvious obsessions—obsessions she could blame on something other than needing to forget her pain for a few blissful hours. None of them had questioned her newfound joy in running, especially not when she told them she wanted to look and feel her best.

  Really, what woman didn’t?

  And Bridget had lost a few pounds over the past two and a half weeks, but she definitely did not feel her best. If anything, she felt worse than ever, because now that running wasn’t effectively emptying her mind, she’d lost one more possibility, one more thing that could have made her feel better at last.

  These thoughts played on a disturbing loop as she cuddled Teddy in her darkening bedroom. Sometime later, a soft rapping on her front door triggered Teddy’s exuberant barking and forced her from bed.

  Had her friends magically figured out that she needed them? Or perhaps one of the neighborhood kids had come around to sell cookies or magazines or something else she didn’t need.

  Bridget did not expect the person she found on the other side of the door.

  “I thought this was you,” Wesley said, holding up a bag of takeout with a sympathetic grin.
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  “What?” she asked, still trying to make sense of why he was here when he’d made it very clear he wanted nothing from her, least of all friendship.

  “Your apartment,” he explained as he pushed past her into the dining room and set his bag on the table. “I’d only ever seen you in the window, so I had to guess which of these belonged to you. Luckily, I got it right on my first try.”

  Rosco and Baby flanked him, and he rubbed their blocky heads in greeting.

  “But why are you here?” Bridget crossed her arms. True, she could really use a hug, but not from Wesley. Never from Wesley.

  “You didn’t come running today,” he said as if that explained this intrusion perfectly.

  She let out an irritated huff. “So?”

  “So with the way you were talking last night and then you not showing up today, I worried about you.” He smiled again. Twice within the span of a minute. How very unWesley.

  “I thought you didn’t like me,” she reminded him—not really a question, not really a statement, either.

  His voice grew louder, firmer. “I never said I didn’t like you. I just said I don’t want to be friends.”

  “And not being friends includes bringing me . . .” She peaked into the bag he’d set atop her table and a mouthwatering aroma swirled into the air.

  “Some kind of soup?” she guessed once the savory blend had settled into her nostrils.

  He smiled for the third charming time and took a step closer. Was he planning to touch or—worse—to hug her? Bridget enjoyed warm, friendly hugs just as much as the next person, but this was not Wesley. Why did he suddenly feel the need to act human around her? Had she really worried him that much?

  His next words confirmed that she had. “I didn’t know what kind of not feeling well you had, whether you were sick sick or heartsick. I figured this would cover both bases.”

  Bridget sat at the table and pulled the bag toward her, which elicited an immediate sigh of relief from her visitor. “Thank you for the soup,” she said as she pulled the container and disposable cutlery from the bag and set it up in front of her on the table. “But I’m getting a lot of mixed signals here. What do you want from me?”

  Wesley lowered himself into the chair beside her, his jaw twitching with sudden tension. “I like you, Bridget. You’re a good person.”

  Bridget shrugged off the compliment. She didn’t want things to be different between them, didn’t need it. “How can you even tell? This is the longest conversation we’ve ever had with each other.”

  “I can tell,” he answered with yet another smile. This one did something strange to her insides. “Believe me, I can tell.”

  “So another nonanswer.” She let out an exhausted chuckle. “You just might be the most complicated person I’ve ever met.”

  Now he laughed, but it sounded sad. “You have no idea.”

  He sat beside her silently while she enjoyed the hot soup. Normally, she enjoyed conversation with her meals and often found herself carrying on a one-sided talk with her dogs when there were no other people around to engage in lively discussion. With Wesley, though, she felt as if anything she said would be the wrong thing.

  Easier just to say nothing at all.

  “Come running with me again tomorrow,” he said, his bright blue eyes shining with sincerity. “Please.”

  “Okay,” she said, setting her spoon on the overturned lid. “But on one condition.”

  “Name it.” He froze for a moment before easing into a smile. She had yet to decide whether she liked this new smiley version of her normally scowling neighbor.

  “No more running in silence. We have to talk to each other.” Yes, they didn’t have to be friends. They could be colleagues, running colleagues.

  Right when it looked as if Wesley would protest, Bridget raised a hand to stop him. “We don’t need to talk about our pasts or whatever it is we’re running from, but we do need to talk to each other. It will make it easier to forget those things. At least for a little while.”

  Wesley nodded and held out his palm to shake. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”

  Chapter 10

  While Wesley’s visit did soothe Bridget’s anxiety, the next day at work sent it soaring to new heights.

  Dr. Kate sat waiting for her in the lobby with a fake smile on her face and a large disposable coffee cup in each hand. She handed one to Bridget, then stood and led her back to one of the private exam rooms—the very same one where they had both met Samantha and Brownie the day before.

  “Can we talk about what happened in here yesterday?” she asked, a concerned frown etching fine lines into her forehead.

  Bridget wrapped both hands around her latte but found little warmth or comfort. She kept her eyes on her lap rather than raising them to meet her boss’s probing gaze. “What else needs to be said?”

  “Are you okay?” She craned her neck in an effort to see Bridget’s hidden face.

  I don’t want to talk about it, she wanted to scream. I don’t want a confrontation. Not today. Not ever.

  Instead, Bridget forced a smile, nodded, and took a sip of her coffee. “I’m fine,” she insisted, failing to convince even herself.

  “Are you, though?” Dr. Kate pressed. “I know it’s been hard since you lost your mom, but yesterday with Samantha and Brownie . . .” She sighed and changed tactics, since Bridget flatly refused to take this emotional path with her. “Can you even afford to pay for that medicine?”

  “I’ll find a way,” she mumbled, then clenched her jaw and squared her shoulders. Yes, she’d done something impulsive, but that didn’t make it wrong. Bridget refused to feel bad about showing kindness to a stranger in need. “I’m not going back on my word to her.”

  Dr. Kate ran an index finger along the raised lid of her cup and frowned. “I know you wouldn’t do that, but what happens when the next terminally ill pet comes into our office? Are you going to pay for its medicine, too? What about the one after that?”

  “I don’t know,” Bridget mumbled. Dr. Kate was right, of course. She couldn’t save them all, no matter how much she wanted to. But did that mean she shouldn’t at least try?

  “Is this what you still want, Bridget?” Her words came out soft but unrelenting. She wouldn’t let the subject go, not until Bridget gave her whatever she was looking for.

  “Is what?” Bridget asked innocently. She hoped she’d misunderstood. This woman was not just her boss but her mentor, her friend. Had she given up on Bridget now?

  Dr. Kate motioned around the office and sighed. “All of this, this job, this life. It tugs at your heart. Sometimes it hurts. That’s the sacrifice you make so that you can help those who aren’t beyond saving.”

  “Are you saying I’m not tough enough?” She didn’t want to cry, couldn’t cry.

  Dr. Kate sighed again. “Bridget, you have such a big heart, but it’s fragile, too. I don’t want to see this job break you. You’re still young, so really think about what you want out of life. You can still change your mind. Nobody will judge you.”

  She sniffed but held her tears at bay. “Is this your way of firing me?”

  “No, of course not. It’s just . . .” She stopped and took several long, slow sips of coffee before continuing. “I want what’s best for you. It may still be this, and honestly I hope it is. But you need to be honest with yourself, too. Can you promise me you’ll think about what I’ve said?”

  Bridget nodded glumly. What else was there to say?

  Dr. Kate placed a hand on her shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “I mean, really think about it. This is the rest of your life. You deserve to be happy.”

  Bridget stood to leave. “Thank you for the coffee,” she said, then added after a slight pause, “and the advice. I’ll think about it.” She could tell that Dr. Kate wanted to hug her, but she drew back. A hug would be admitting weakness, defeat—and Bridget refused to do either.

  Her boss took a step away, then nodded as if convincing herself of somet
hing rather than Bridget. “Good. Now why don’t you take the rest of the day off? Take a long weekend to relax so you can come back recharged and ready to go on Monday.”

  Bridget was too exhausted to argue.

  She needed the money from this job more than ever, but she couldn’t very easily handle any more heart-to-hearts with Dr. Kate, either. Where did that leave her? She lived and died with the future, and now suddenly her boss had hinted she might not have one. It was the worst news she could have gotten, because now new parts of her ached, parts that had felt strong and healthy before.

  Not anymore.

  Her mom had always encouraged her love of animals and her desire to become a veterinarian, and now that her mother was gone, it was more important than ever that Bridget follow through with the dream they’d both shared. Otherwise, how would her mother recognize her from Heaven?

  After leaving the clinic, Bridget sat in her car, staring blankly through the windshield as people and animals moved in and out of the building. She didn’t want the day off but also knew she couldn’t argue with Dr. Kate on the point.

  She wanted her routine. Craved it.

  Some days it was the only thing that kept her going. She needed something or someone to help her get through the day. Her weekly volunteer shift at the shelter wasn’t until tomorrow, and she still had several hours before her nightly run with Wesley. Her father and friends would be at work until at least five that night.

  Wait.

  Amy didn’t work summers, thanks to her career as a second-grade teacher. And being the caretaker of their little friend group, Amy would jump at the chance to help Bridget through this latest setback. Bridget wanted to do it all herself, to throw herself into something that would keep her busy until Dr. Kate forgot her concerns and let her get back to work.... But today she needed a friend. She’d never get through the rest of it alone.

  Can I come over? Bridget texted without getting into any of the details. Amy didn’t need to know them, and Bridget didn’t want to give them. She wished the conversation with Dr. Kate had never happened in the first place.