Page 61 of The Grumpy Vet
After showering, changing, and making a start on dinner with Ryde, I get a phone call from the hospice. Immediately, Ithink the worst, but they're only calling to let me know Dad's got an infection. They've put him on new meds, and he'll require more monitoring. I ask if I should come visit, and they assure me he isn't in any immediate danger and that they'll keep me updated.
Dario swings by after work to join us, and I wait until then to tell them both about the phone call. They're concerned, as they always are, but it's a helpless situation. We're in limbo, essentially just waiting it out until I do getthatphone call, which could be any one of these days now.
We eat our meal on the dining table, the jigsaw puzzle long done and dusted. All the pieces packed up and stored away in the box. Like it never happened.
After telling them about the phone call, I'm quiet for the rest of the meal. Sad, I guess. Preoccupied by worry over my dad and Dario leaving in ten days and not being able to do anything about either thing.
I still maintain that offering him a contract extension is the way to go, but I'm not about to go behind Ryde's back because what if I'm not seeing things clearly and he is? What if me wanting Dario to stay is clouding my judgement and Ryde's right, it would pressure Dario into doing something he otherwise wouldn't?
I don't want to contribute in any way to Dario's unhealthy patterns of past relationships. If asking him to stay would trigger that, or cause him to feel trapped, then I'll keep my damn mouth shut. Doesn't mean I'm going to be happy about it though.
After dinner and washing up, the three of us head outside.
"Whoa. It's so clear out tonight," Dario says, lifting his head to the night sky. "Why is that?"
"There's no moon," I answer, taking in the even more impressive than usual display of twinkling stars overhead. "Makes everything stand out even more."
"It's beautiful," he says as we settle into our usual spots. The guys sharing the bench, me on the wrought iron chair.
We sit in peaceful silence for a few minutes until Ryde clears his throat and says, "What's up, Linus? You've been quiet all night. Is it your dad? Are you worried about him?"
Guilt pricks my chest. I probably should be more worried about him than I am, but the truth is I'm actually more consumed by another situation in my life. I look at Ryde, then at Dario, and feel torn. I can't say what I'm really thinking, which is that I don't want him to leave, but I can't lie to them, either.
That's one of the things I'm most proud of when I think of everything we've gone through these past few months. We may have held back and kept secrets from each other in the past, but we've also really made an effort to open up and be honest with each other ever since. And look at the reward we got. An amazing, once-in-a-lifetime relationship.
An amazing, once-in-a-lifetime relationship with a fast-approaching deadline.
"I've just got a lot on my mind," I reply honestly, if not somewhat vaguely.
"We're here for you," Dario says, reaching out and taking hold of my hand.
Ryde leans forwards and grabs my other hand. "You know that, right?"
"I do. And I appreciate it. Thank you."
We sit out watching the stars until Ryde starts yawning, which sets Dario off. I'm beat, too, so we head inside and get ready for bed.
The mood is sombre, heavy with the weight of the one thing all three of us are deliberately not talking about. The vibe is so heavy that after showering, we bypass sex and fall straight into bed.
Dario lies in the middle, and Ryde and I cling to him, knowing we won't get the chance to do so for much longer.
Ryde
"Scuttlebutt Vet Clinic." I raced down the hallway and grabbed the phone on the ninth ring. Ten and it goes to voicemail, so I got it in the nick of time. We've been flat out all day, and I'm the only one free at the moment. "How can I help?"
Mrs. Wilson starts ranting about her geese, and I drop down into the chair behind the reception desk, listening as she rambles on and on about how they've stopped laying eggs and she's wondering if it's because she's recently changed their feed. I'm doing my best to listen patiently, but as she drones on about it, not giving me any space to interject, my molars start grinding.
Today is not a good day. Wilby couldn't make it in, struck down by a gastro bug he swears is Mrs. Mangle's fault. Muir and Fitz got called out to a colic flare-up at Mr. Birkin's stud farm. Linus's lump removal on Mrs. Cartwright's cat is taking longer than expected, and Dario and I have a full day of consults plus about a thousand walk-ins to deal with. When it rains it pours, and today, it's pissing down.
But that's not the real reason I'm in a sour mood.
The real reason is that Dario leaves in two days.Two days.In less than forty-eight hours, he'll be on a plane back to Blowend.
I don't want him to go, but I can't force him to stay either. It has to be his decision, and so far, he hasn't given any indication that's what he wants to do. He's got his ticket. He even started packing last night.
It's really happening. He's going to leave and be out of our lives. For good.
And then what?
