Page 13 of A Malicious Menagerie
After all, when your entire worldview has been turned on its axis, who knows what’s true?
When my sleepless brain can’t absorb another sentence, I admit defeat and return most of the books, keeping only the ones that might have more to offer. The same librarian I visited before checks me out with well wishes for my manuscript, and I try not to begrudge her her sunny disposition and enthusiasm. It’s not her fault I’m mired in quicksand, both physical and emotional.
* * *
With my borrowed books weighing me down and my brain burdened by too many questions, I decide to catch the bus to Sunny Shores Retirement Village. If there’s anything in this world that can quiet the chaos in my mind, it’s Nan.
Despite the name, the nursing home is neither by the seaside nor a charming little town. Instead, it’s closer to a hotel but without any of the adventure you’d usually associate with one. The rooms are private but small, with tiny en suite bathrooms, and the common areas are clean but tired. I would have loved to put Nan somewhere nicer, but even Sunny Shores was stretching the limits of my income. At least Nan seems happy and comfortable enough, which is all I can really ask for.
“Anna!” Nan exclaims when I find her in the common room in her wheelchair. Her pale blue eyes brighten when she spots me, and she claps her fragile hands with glee. “It is so good to see you, darling!”
Instantly, all of the turmoil churning inside me quiets. I’m going to have to process it all eventually, but for now, there’s just me and Nan—the reasonI keep going no matter how bad things get or how bone-deep tired I am.
“Hey, Nan,” I greet her, managing a sincere smile. She’s at one of the round tables eating lunch, and I slide into the chair next to her and reach over to give her hand a fond squeeze.
Still, despite her persistent right-sided deficits from her stroke and her bad hip, Nan is just as sharp as she ever was. She narrows her eyes at me, the left side of her mouth pulling down to match the right. “You look tired, love. Is everything okay?”
“Just working a lot, Nan,” I assure her. “I’m fine.”
She’s not appeased. “You shouldn’t work so hard. You’re barely twenty-two; you should be out getting into trouble and sowing your wild oats. Not spending every night cleaning up after other people.”
That statement makes me choke on my spit, and Nan pats my back as I cough and sputter. Her touch feels like a butterfly landing, and it makes my heart squeeze painfully. “I’m okay with not sowing my wild oats,” I inform her dryly after I manage to catch my breath.
She regards me solemnly for a moment, her mouth pulled down in a lopsided frown. “I know it’s been hard since Lisa died.”
“I’m fine,” I assure her before she can say more. I don’t like talking about Mom’s death. It was hard enough watching cancer eat away at her for two years before she finally succumbed when I was seventeen. I don’t feel a particular need to revisit that time.
Time to change the subject. “Actually,” I say slowly. I desperately want to share with her, but I’m not sure how much I can give away without rubbing up against the NDA. “I’m not working at the hospital so much anymore.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah, I’m kind of working for a rich guy now. I’m pet-sitting his animals.”
“Hmm,” she murmurs, her expression curious. “What kinds of animals?”
“Rare ones,” I hedge.
“Like a zebra?”
I smile. “Kind of like that, yeah.”
Her expression lights up. “That sounds so fun! You always did love animals, ever since you were a little girl bringing home strays. Do you remember thatskunk with the broken leg you found? The house stank for weeks!”
“Ugh, don’t remind me,” I grumble, wincing at the memory of that childish lack of wisdom.
“You wanted to be like your father, though your catchphrase as a girl was, ‘People are gross.’” She giggles at the memory. “Still, that didn’t stop you from borrowing his stethoscope any chance you got to listen to us or your stuffed animals. Do you still have that somewhere?”
“Hanging off my bookshelf,” I admit, not that I’ve touched Dad’s old stethoscope since I dropped out of school. After I made the decision to leave college, it hurt too much to look at it.
Sure, Dad was a human doctor while I was more drawn to animals, but pursuing medicine made me feel closer to him. He died when I was eight, so all I have are fleeting impressions of who he was. Vague memories of standing on his feet to dance, and play-acting at having British accents in the grocery store, and him trying to convince Mom that every kid should have a puppy. Unfortunately, he never got a chance to make that particular dream a reality.
He was the one who fostered my love of animals and healing. When I stumbled across a litter of abandoned kittens, he was the one up with me every two hours feeding them. When a bird flew into our window, he was the one who helped me splint its broken wing using a popsicle stick and tape. And when he discovered the injured skunk under my bed, he was the one who drove it to the wildlife sanctuary, never mind that his car upholstery never recovered.
“Well, in any case, this job sounds like a good fit for you,” Nan continues, interrupting my bittersweet reverie. “Has your rich boss been kind to you?”
“Yeah.” My chest squeezes at the admission because, dammit, he has, but I can’t say that he’s been as kind to the people in his menagerie. I have to assume the mermaid is as intelligent as the centaur, and who knows what other species are languishing in that converted warehouse? “I’m just…” I pause, trying to choose the right words. “I’m concerned that some of the animals he keeps aren’t suited to captivity. Like monkeys, elephants, and orcas, right? They’re so smart, and they need so much stimulation to keep from getting depressed and developing all sorts of unhealthy, self-destructive behaviors or even becoming aggressive. I don’t know that I agree with keeping them in captivity, but what can I do? Tell my boss to let them go?”
Nan’s eyebrows shoot up. “Orcas?!”
