Page 121 of Run, Run Rudolph
I opened the metal back door, realizing I should be grateful for the distraction and my increasing insanity. I mean, I’d bought her a Nerf gun today? Why? All I could say was that I’d been compelled by some unexplainable inner compunction. Why a Nerf gun? Were we twelve? No wonder she’d spent the past few years avoiding me. Not only did I mansplain veterinarian facts to her as if she was a curious little kid, and not a grown woman capable of researching things on her own, but I acted like a fool.
A blast of icy December air hit me as I peered out at my visitor. I took an involuntary step back. Tamara. Cheeks flushed, bottom lip clamped between her teeth, brown eyes round and worried.
I immediately stepped forward, wanting to take her into my arms.
“That’s not safe, you know.” She came inside, gliding past me.
“What isn’t?” I felt a stab of panic, and fisted my hands so I wouldn’t grab her, wrap her in my arms and protect her from whatever danger she thought might be lurking in my perfectly safe back alley.
She ignored my question, patting my chest with a gloved hand as she passed. “I like the Christmas colours.” I watched her touch my red and green flannel shirt, and felt as though I was having an out-of-body experience. We didn’t usually touch. In fact, we very carefully avoided each other. She looked cautious, but also like…
I couldn’t put my finger on it, which was odd. Usually I could read her.
“Well, not everyone dresses like their Oma,” I quipped, thinking about her adorable sweater tradition with her grandmother.
Tamara snorted, trying to hold back a laugh.
“Something wrong with Boots?”
“My animals are okay.”
A pressing need to touch her was rendering me mute. Finally, I asked, “What’s dangerous?”
“You shouldn’t open the door without knowing who’s out here.” Her tone turned playful. “It could be a black witch, or a lawyerly goat set on eating you out of house and clinic.”
Something wasn’t adding up. She was watching me incredibly carefully, her words echoing through my mind like a joke where I’d once known the punchline, but now couldn’t retrieve it.
I nodded, holding eye contact with her for longer than we usually did. She didn’t look away, didn’t pretend she didn’t see me watching, or quickly start talking about something random.
“I have a camera that overlooks the alley.”
“Did you check it before opening the door?”
“Never.”
“And you always open it?”
I shrugged. Only deliveries came to the back. “Pretty much.”
She was running a hand over a metal gurney—the one for large animals that had been left out in the middle of the room for some reason. “Ever had Rudolph come by in need of an x-ray?”
I slowly shook my head. Her question felt like a secret password, meant to unlock something. But I couldn’t find the box it would open.
I felt a warmth gazing at her. I didn’t bother looking away, and took her in. Why did it feel as though that old curtain that had always hung between us, making everything with her feel forbidden, had been lifted?
“What do you need? Are you okay?” I was growing concerned by her unorthodox visit. We were out of pattern in nearly every way.
“It’s fine. You’re busy.” She was heading for the door she’d just come through. Her voice wobbled, becoming quiet. “I don’t… I don’t want anything. Thanks.”
I caught her arm, knowing she’d come here for something. Something pivotal. “What you want right now is more important than anything else.”
Tamara’s face went pale, and she slowly turned to me, looking as if she’d seen a ghost. I dropped my hand. “What I want?” she asked, her voice hoarse.
“Yes.”
“It’s important?”
Her words felt like an echo. “What you want right now is more important than anything else,” I repeated, something stirring inside me. Another password, another key, another mystery.
