Page 94 of Forget About Me

Checking the envelope and sifting through the papers again confirms that he didn’t include a note of explanation.

Maybe itwasn’tright for us to be together then. Maybe, as tragic as Tony’s death was, it really had nothing to do with either of us. Maybe it was just his time.

It wasn’t our time to be together, that’s obvious. Not then.

I wish he was here so I could shake the answer out of him, but I guess I’ll have to be patient. Not a quality I’m known for.

The next morning it’s so busy at the clinic and at the renovation jobsite next door that I’m able to successfully play keep-away from the loneliness that has snuck into my heart since I moved into my own place. That blatantly set up camp last night as I read and reread Ben’s words.

Maybe that’s what going to college is really about—easing kids out of the nest and into their own lives. Now that I’ve taken a flying leap out of my nest, I’m lost.

Even if Ben comes home for Thanksgiving—which I haven’t worked up to asking Mr. Porter about—I don’t know why I think my baby-steps independent life will ever stand up to his exciting one. He’s already left his nest and soared. I’ll just be a weight dragging him down.

A bell rings, bringing me back to my very earthly but demanding life.

I need to get to the patient in exam four, but I also need to stop and coo over the tiny puppy Cindy’s lifting from the small-animal scale.

“Can you hold him for a minute?” she asks. “He’s so wriggly I’m afraid I’m going to drop him while I record everything.”

There’s another bell, but I take the puppy anyway. “Of course.” He nestles into my chest, and my heart melts. “What’s your story, skinny little man?”

Cindy shakes her head. “Skinny is right. Poor guy was found all by himself behind a dumpster.”

The receptionist gives up on the bell and yells my name down the hallway. “I’m sorry, cutie. I gotta go take care of someone else.” Reluctantly, I hold him out for Cindy to take, but she holds up a chart instead. “If you want to trade, I’d much rather take whatever’s behind door number three than deal with worms this morning.” She rubs her stomach. “The Mexican I ate last night is not sitting well.”

I shrug. “Works for me.”

“Thanks.”

Securing the puppy under my arm, I scan his chart.

“Looks like you need a home.” Tucking the chart under my other arm, I head for the back to give him a flea bath and deworming meds, and I make a decision. “Lucky for you, I have one that needs a puppy. You’re not Ben; you’re not even Puck. But you need somebody. Turns out, I need somebody too.”

All I can say is thank goodness for Mrs. Rosen. When I stopped by her apartment after work to make sure she’d be okay with me fostering the puppy, she practically grabbed him from my arms and declared that she’d be his co-foster parent. I guess she and Mr. Porter have missed Puck too.

Good thing, because I had not thought this through. Talk about the cobbler’s son having no shoes—this pet behavior specialist can’t take care of a puppy without some help. There’s no way I can haul him all over town with me or keep him at the vet’s all day. Too many germs, not enough immunity built up.

So he’s been spending his days in the lap of luxury.

When I knock on her door, she doesn’t answer right away, but I can hear her talking on the other side of the door.

“Sit, dog. Sit. What did I say to you? No, I said sit, not chew on the carpet!”

Eventually the door opens a crack, and Vera peeks out. I hardly recognize her without perfect hair and makeup. “He is a very naughty boy,” she whispers.

I wince. “What did he chew today?”

She sighs. “My favorite shoes.”

“I’m sorry. Listen, if this isn’t going to work, I can?—?”

She holds up a hand to stop me, looks behind her, groans and whips around to pick up the puppy. “No! Bad dog. That is for Lucy.”

I step in, closing the door behind me. Vera’s doing a tug of war with the puppy and a package. “Your father dropped off some more mail today.”

Sweeping the little demon into my arms, I pry a large, taped-up envelope out of his mouth. “Seriously, Vera. If he’s doing damage?—?”

She sighs. “I think I just need some more training.”

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