The Girl Who Fell(62)
Her reminders will have to come long distance because we both know she won’t be here for much longer.
“You’ll hear soon, Zee. You have to. It’s the way this stuff works.”
“I hope so.” I rub my hands together as the teams slip onto the ice. The crowd around us stands, pulls us upright.
When the puck is in play Lizzie asks, “Do we have to stay for the whole game?”
“Yes. I promised Alec I’d be here.” The way he’s been here for me.
“You two have been attached at the hip all week. Don’t you need to come up for air?”
I wonder if Lizzie can remember the days when Jason was her air.
I hear a referee’s whistle screech at the exact moment I see the red jersey take a dive across the ice. A collective moan rises from the crowd just as my phone barks. It’s the vet’s ringtone. I frantically rip off my mittens and dig my phone out of my pocket.
“Hello?” I say, just as the stadium hushes eerily.
“This is Atlantic Veterinary Clinic. We’re trying to reach Zephyr Doyle.”
“That’s me. Is Finn okay?”
“He’s ready to be discharged but the vet would like to see y—”
“I’m on my way.” I grab Lizzie’s arm and tug her down the bleachers, her fries spilling.
“What’s up?”
“I need you to take me to the vet. They’re waiting for us.” Lizzie knows how much I despise the idea of any animal being locked in a cage, and my heart breaks for Finn, how he must feel so abandoned. I’m only vaguely aware of the crowd forming at the Plexiglas sides of the rink as we exit for the parking lot.
On the drive over, I gnaw two of my fingernails down to the soft, fleshy skin underneath. I leave Mom a message on her cell phone and even though I know she has court today, I resent that she can’t be here the way she’d promised.
Lizzie and I reach reception and an older woman I don’t recognize greets us. “You can take a seat there, dearies.”
We do and the wait stretches out in front of us like a desert highway.
My phone rings. It’s Gaga: I’m gonna run right to, to the edge with you. Lizzie looks at me, her sideways glance asking, Why is Alec calling you in the middle of a game? The same question takes up residence on my tongue.
His reason: “The game had to be postponed.”
“Why?”
“I’ll explain in person. Where are you?”
The urgency in his voice causes a tiny earthquake to shake the building. I steel my nerves. “I’m at the vet. Waiting to see Finn.”
“I’ll be there in ten.” He hangs up.
I give my phone—and then Lizzie—a puzzled look. “Strange.”
“Things are weird,” she says ominously. “Do you feel it?”
I feel it like a haunting.
Maybe that’s why neither of us posits theories about why the hockey game was postponed or if Finn’s ailment will be permanent, or worse—shorten his life.
The vet tech emerges from the back room with Finn’s leash and I grab for Lizzie as I stand. “Where is he?” His lonely leash hangs listless from her wrist and I swallow back fear.
“He’s in the exam room, anxious to see you. Come with me.”
It is only when I see Finn greet me at the door that I start to breathe again. His tail wags feverishly and he presses his head to my thighs, forceful enough to push me over. His strength feels like a miracle. “Oh, I missed you so much, boy.” He pushes past me, toward the closed door. I laugh at his determination, his personality fully recovered. “I know, buddy. I want to go home too.”
“The vet will be right with you,” the tech says before disappearing through the back door. I sink to the floor and bury my head in Finn’s neck, scratch deep into his fur. He makes a seat of my lap and Lizzie’s flash pops.
“For posterity,” she tells me, approving the photo on her phone. “He looks really good, Zee.”
He does. I am grateful.
The vet joins us in the exam room carrying Finn’s chart. “Ah, Finn. One of our success stories.” She smiles at me, at Lizzie.
“He’s okay? What was wrong with him?” I ask, my words running so fast.
The vet makes a notation. “It’s hard to say. There was nothing in his bloodwork and his energy seems to have returned to normal. It’s possible he may have eaten some spoiled food.”
“But I’m so careful.”
She pulls the clipboard to her chest, looks sympathetic. “These guys are tricksters. They can get into things we’d never expect. The good news is that we found no signs of an external wound so he should be just fine.”