Page 63 of The Grumpy Vet
I search for signs of similarity to Linus but don't really find any. Maybe Linus took after his mum, or maybe his dad is so far gone that he's lost the distinctive features that would highlight any resemblance they may have once shared.
With one hand in mine, Dario lifts his other hand and gives a small wave. "Hi, Mr. Stevenson. I'm Dario. This is Ryde. It's a pleasure to meet you."
Linus's eyes well up. Mine do, too, but I think Dario is on the right track, speaking with him as if he's right here with us and this is a normal introduction.
Mr. Stevenson takes us in with barely opened eyes.
Linus takes his father's hand. "Just rest. It's all good. I just wanted you to meet them before…" He shakes his head, leaving that sentiment unspoken.
Dario and I slink to the back of the room when a middle-aged doctor comes in. He strides over to Linus, speaking so quietly that all I hear is a hushed murmur. Linus nods his head, and then two nurses come in.
The air gets thicker.
"What should we do?" I whisper to Dario.
He takes a heavy breath, his features tight with concern. "Let's ask Linus what he wants."
"Good idea."
We approach Linus, and I whisper in his ear, asking if he'd like us to stay or go. He takes our hands in his and holds on tightly.
The doctor leaves, and we stand over the bed in silence. After a few minutes, the old man takes one last, shuddering breath then goes still.
Completely still.
Linus gasps. I squeeze his hand, and when I turn to look at him, silent tears are streaming down his face. Dario steps in from the other side and slides his arms around Linus.
We stay like that until Linus says he's ready to go.
17
Linus
I'm numb leaving the hospice.
Numb on the car ride as Ryde drives us back to my place.
Numb as the guys fix me some food, which we eat together, then urge me to take a shower.
Numb as I climb into bed, flanked by my guys.
Numb as my mind drifts back through the years and I speak of the memories of my father that float to the surface until god knows what time in the morning.
I wake up with a start, and for one brief, blissful moment, it feels like a normal day. But then my brain wakes up and reminds me this isn't a normal day. It's the day after my father died.
I let out a long groan, scrubbing a hand down my face, when I realise something's missing. I pat my hand along the crumpled sheets on either side of me. They're warm, but the bed is empty. The guys must have only gotten up recently.
Oh, shit. The clinic. Work. All my fucking appointments.
I kick the sheet off me, tug on the nearest underwear I can find, then stumble down the corridor into the kitchen.
The guys spin around at the same time.
"Morning," Ryde says, stepping towards me holding a freshly brewed mug of coffee. "Sleep okay?" he asks, handing the mug over.
Our fingers touch, and I manage a small smile. "Actually, yeah. Thank you for this."
Dario moves to the dining table, balancing three plates. "Come on, you two. Brekkie time."
