Page 98 of Revelry
Neil sat up straighter. “That was quick. Are you sure? Sounds a little too protesty to me.”
I exhaled heavily, my nostrils flaring. “Yes. I don’t get attached like that.”
“Why not?”
My leg started twitching with my agitation. “You know why. Why are you playing dumb?”
“Because it’s fun for me to watch you squirm sometimes. Does Gertrude make you squirm?”
I opened my mouth to tell himno.But then I paused and thought about it. She did make me squirm. She made me uncomfortable and pushed me out of my comfort zone. She unnerved me and I liked it. I liked that she pushed me to do things I wouldn’t normally do. That she cared enough to do that. I’d had more fun and felt more alive in the last few months, than I ever had before.
Even before my father left.
I smiled. “She does.”
Neil just nodded and smiled at me. “You haven’t noticed that I moved the pot plants around and that I didn’t shut the door properly. You’ve only grown agitated when I’ve questioned you and only tried to fix the magazines once and I don’t even think that was compulsion-related.”
I hated how observant he was. I glanced around, glaring at the plant pots. Over my shoulder the door swayed a little in the breeze that flowed from the door downstairs. I glared at the magazines which I hadn’t even tried to fix since Neil disrupted them.
“And?”
Neil laughed heartily at my stony expression. “Just goes to show what happens when you have someone in your life that cares about you without strings attached. Whoever Gertrude is, she’s good for you.” He clapped his hands together again, startling me out of my glare. “You’ve done some incredible work on the lower scales of your ERP hierarchy, now it’s time to tackle the higher levels.”
*
I was going to head home, ready and eager to get back to Gertrude but I got an emergency call to the practice when Mrs. Foster’s cat, Trixie, suffered a stroke.
The older woman sobbed as she said goodbye to her beloved feline, insisting on holding her while I put Trixie to sleep. Normally I delegated the emotional support to Harriet but she was tied up on the phone so that just left me.
Watching Mrs. Foster gently shushing her cat and soothing her, telling her she would always love her while placing kisses to her fluffy head, had a lump forming in my throat. I knew what Trixie meant to Mrs. Foster, having overheard all her chats with Harriet whenever she stopped by. I usually managed to distancemyself from moments like this, but not today and I blamed it on my therapy session.
Once Trixie had drifted peacefully to sleep, I placed her back in the cat carrier. I put an arm around Mrs. Foster, steering her to a small, quiet room with a couch that was for grieving pet owners. I usually avoided the room altogether, not wanting to interact with anyone, especially someone who was emotionally distraught and needed comfort, but today I found myself wanting to make sure Mrs. Foster was okay.
“Come here, take a seat.” I gestured to the couch and eased her onto it.
“I don’t know what I’m going to do without her,” Mrs. Foster cried, and my heart twinged at the tears that trickled down her softly wrinkled cheeks. Mrs. Foster came in with Trixie monthly for a check-up and although I tried not to engage in conversation, I had learned that her husband died a few years ago so it was just her and Trixie. It was going to be hard for her to cope with the loneliness.
“I know it’ll be tough, you’ve had her for a long time, but you gave her an incredible life. I know most people don’t want to consider this and while it is a little soon, when you’re ready, I’m sure there will be a long line of cats who need adopting and would be lucky to live the life you would give them.” I thought my words might soothe her, but she cried even harder.
I don’t know why I tried to console her. I was not good with people, never had been and never wanted to be and I immediately regretted trying to help.
“Oh Dr. Wilder, why did you have to go and say something so sweet?” she sobbed into my shoulder. I don’t think I had ever been accused of that in my life. Maybe I had said the right thing after all? I didn’t know. I just patted her shoulder and offered her tissues until her cries quietened to little sniffles. EventuallyHarriet poked her head around the door, and I managed to get out from under Mrs. Foster.
“She’s okay, yah?” Harriet whispered, smacking her gum. I frowned at the sound of it being masticated in her mouth. She flinched and then removed it from her mouth and looked around her for a tissue. “Sorry.”
“It’s fine, Harriet,” I said, hating that I made her feel like she couldn’t even chew gum. Yes it was obnoxiously loud but I shouldn’t be making everyone bend to my will.
“Oh, yah?” she asked and popped the bright pink bubble-gum back in her mouth.
“Yah, I mean, yes.” I ground my teeth. Damn her for rubbing off on me. “I need to head out, are you okay closing up?”
“Yah!”
I lowered my voice. “And don’t charge Mrs. Foster for Trixie. And find out if she would like her cremated. I imagine she’ll want the ashes, that’ll be on us too.”
“Sure thing. That’s real nice of you, Dr. Wilder,” she said and waved goodbye, sitting down next to Mrs. Foster and patting her knee.
I pondered over why it didn’t affect me at all when Harriet called meDr. Wilderbut when Gertrude did it, it stoked a desire in me like nothing else ever had. And then my dick started heating in my jeans and I changed my train of thought.
