Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 134212 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 671(@200wpm)___ 537(@250wpm)___ 447(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 134212 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 671(@200wpm)___ 537(@250wpm)___ 447(@300wpm)
I nod and he pulls the seatbelt across my body, leaning over to clip it into place. He smiles, and it’s a friendly smile of reassurance. I don’t think he’ll ever know how much it means to me. Someone trying to ease my worry, no matter what that worry is, is a feeling I have forgotten. Shutting the door, he rounds the car quickly and falls into the seat beside me. I focus my attention on Boris, smoothing the hair of his head and keeping a close eye on his pumping chest. “It’s okay, boy,” I soothe quietly. “It’s okay.”
The stranger pulls off quickly and seems to navigate his way easily to the nearest out-of-hours veterinary surgery, pulling up outside on double yellows. “Here, let me take him,” he says gently once he’s opened my door. Leaning in, he scoops Boris up and steps back, allowing me to get out of his posh car. Stupidly, I place a bet that Mr. Smart here has never had a dog in his swanky car before. Boris doesn’t stink, not by any means, but I guarantee he’ll be finding dog hairs in his posh motor for months to come. “Thank you.” I reach to take my dog, but he backs up with Boris.
“Do you have anyone I can call to come and be with you?”
I falter for far too long, stupidly thinking about his question. No. I have no one, and I tell him so on a shake of my head. We haven’t seen our friends for months, not since Billy became more bedbound. My husband is a proud man. He doesn’t want anyone to see him like he is, not even me.
“I’ll carry him inside.”
“You don’t have to,” I say out of pride more than anything else. Truth be told, I want him to. I don’t want to be alone in my worry.
“But I want to.” He smiles, jerking his head toward the doors, prompting me to rush forward and open them for him. I don’t care that he feels sorry for me. It’s the story of my fucking life. I’m now used to it. “I’m sure you have better things to do,” I say as he passes me with Boris.
“Not particularly.”
The lady on the desk looks up and clocks Boris laid across the arms of the man who I still don’t know what to call. “Oh dear,” she says, rushing out from beyond her desk towards Boris.
“I don’t know what’s wrong with him.” I watch as she strokes his head and looks him over. “We were walking and he collapsed.” As I utter the words, Boris starts convulsing, his little body jerking wildly before going very still. I gasp, and Mr. Smart looks down with worry, evidently firming up his hold.
“Pass him over,” the receptionist says, claiming Boris.
“What is it?” I ask, my eyes bouncing from her to my dog. “What’s wrong with him?”
She rushes off with my beloved Boris, heading for the double white doors. “Please, take a seat.”
I stare at the swinging doors once she’s disappeared, lost and full of worry, and my hand comes up to my mouth to stop my distraught sob from breaking free.
“Are you okay?” His voice, soft and full of concern, washes over me.
“Yes,” I squeak the lie, not turning to face him. “No.” My head starts to shake, my eyes dropping to my feet. “I don’t know.” A handkerchief appears in my downcast, blurry vision, and I accept it, sniffling into the cotton. “Thank you.” He must wish he’d driven off after nearly mowing me down. He didn’t ask for any of this.
“Would you like me to get you anything? A tea? Water?”
“No, I’m fine, honestly.” I turn and scan the waiting area. “I’ll just wait. You really don’t have to stay.” He’s already gone above and beyond. He must have a life to be getting on with—a life that’s not weighed down with misery and hopelessness.
He shrugs. “My grandfather always taught me never to leave a woman in distress.”
Distress? My life is one big, fucked-up mountain of distress. This man here knows only a fraction of my anguish. I clear my throat, hoping my next words are steady and strong. “I’m not distressed.”
My claim makes him laugh lightly, his hand coming up to his smooth cheek and stroking down his skin. “Darling, I don’t know who you are, or anything about you, but I know one thing beyond doubt.” He looks at me, shaking his head in dismay.
“What?” I ask, confused.
“You’re a very bad liar.” He looks at me expectantly, and I hate that I have to look away from him, annoyed that he’s got me all figured out. “Besides,” he goes on. “I’d like to know that your furry friend is going to be okay. He’s quite cute. For a dog.”
The mention of Boris kicks my emotions back in, and for all the will in the world, I can’t stop myself from blubbering again. This is my fault. I cover my face with my palms and sob into them, wondering when some good luck might come my way. It’s just one thing after another, constant challenges and tragedy.