Reign of Terrier

by Lori R. Taylor

  “It’s not your fault.”

  “That doesn’t make it suck less.”

  “I don’t think it’ll ever suck less.”

  “Probably not.”

  “I miss her.”

  Maggie stretched out a hand like she meant to take Tessa’s, then hesitated an inch away from actually touching her. Then, slowly, her eyes on her face the whole time as if waiting to see how she’d react, she laid her palm over her fingers.

  The pressure always sitting just behind her eyes flared at the touch. Tessa squeezed her eyes shut and refused to let the tears fall. They were in public — in an out-of-the-way spot of public, but public just the same.

  She didn’t want to cry. Not because she thought Maggie would think less of her for it, or because she didn’t trust her to handle it, but she just didn’t want to. She’d managed to keep it relatively together for the last six months, and it hardly felt like the right time and situation to lose it now.

  “I saw June last night. She ordered Chinese, too.”

  Tessa’s eyes flew open at that. “How was she?”

  “I mean, I was on the job. Not much time to talk. But she seemed … okay. I told her you said hi, and that you were thinking about her.”

  “And?” She tried not to sound as desperate as she felt. June had been a good friend when they were about to be sisters-in-law, and the fact that she’d stopped responding to Tessa after Livy’s death hurt like salt ground into the open wound of that death.

  She was, in a very real way, the last living piece of Livy, and that she refused to talk to her was not unlike being rejected by Livy herself.

  “And what?” Maggie repeated.

  “Did she say something? React at all?”

  “Not that I could see.”

  She shouldn’t feel so disappointed by that. June hadn’t spoken to her in months. She was hurting probably as much as Tessa was.

  But if they could just talk, just see each other again, maybe then they could sort things out.

  “I think she’s mad at me,” Tessa mumbled, eyes on Maggie’s hand where it had closed gently over hers.

  She squeezed her hand then, and the pressure was a comfort. “Why?”

  “I … I couldn’t handle Livy’s funeral. I just … I got to the door of the funeral home and then … just couldn’t. Not even panicked, but … couldn’t. My feet wouldn’t go in; they wouldn’t listen to me. I turned around and went home, and I haven’t even … I don’t know where her grave is.”

  “Oh.” The word was soft, barely more than a sigh.

  “She was probably looking for me. I should’ve been there for her; I know I should’ve. I wasn’t the only one who lost Livy. But … I couldn’t, and now she won’t talk to me.”

  Another gentle squeeze to her fingers. Tessa turned my hand around and squeezed back once before sliding her hand away. She shouldn’t be seeking comfort from Maggie, who had so much of her own troubles to deal with, whom she barely knew as more than a passing acquaintance.

  But it felt good to say it all aloud. To admit the failings that had haunted her for the last six months. To have someone look at her like they understood, to touch her like they wanted to offer comfort.

  And she’d always liked Maggie. She’d always thought they could be friends, if they ever just spent the time and effort that relationship would take to build beyond passing acquaintance. Tessa wanted them to be friends, especially now, when the promise of it was so close, so there.

  She swallowed down the lump strangling her breath and smiled. It was a wobbly smile soaked in unshed tears, but still genuine.

  “I owe you several more lunches.”

  Maggie smiled back and popped a chip into her mouth. “You really, really do.”

  Chapter Twelve

  The ride home was mostly quiet. Tessa didn’t like cars — she’d never learned to drive because the idea of being behind the wheel gave her panic attacks, and given how blind and unresponsive her body became during a severe attack, she was terrified of ever having one while in control of a deadly machine.

  Livy had been killed by a car, and even though Tessa had long since decided to never drive before Livy died, the fact that cars were deadly was now as firmly lodged into her brain as anything could be.

  So even when someone else was behind the wheel, Tessa didn’t like cars. But at least she could panic quietly if needed, and any moments of dissociation during a panic didn’t lead to death and destruction for herself or someone else.

  Talking helped, and the fact that Walmart was only a few minutes away made sure she didn’t have time to sink all the way into the black hole in the center of her mind. So, while it was a white-knuckled sort of quiet on the drive home, that wasn’t the worst it could’ve been.

  “Thank you,” she said as Maggie pulled into the driveway.

  Maggie turned off the engine, and Tessa’s fingers began to relax from around the seat cushion. “I meant it, you know. When I said you could text me whenever. I can’t guarantee I won’t be at work, but I promise I’ll get it, and if you need to talk or something, just say, and I’ll call you back as soon as I can.”

  Tessa nodded.

  “I want to be here for you, Tessa. I really do. I want us to be friends.”

  “I want that, too.”

  “Good. So. You owe me some lunches.”

  She smiled. “Lemme know the next time you have an afternoon off. Lunch is on me.”

  Maggie grinned back. “Deal.”

  Tessa gathered her new dog things from the back of the car and went into the house.

  It looked like there’d been a monster raging through it.

  There were scratches on the door and around the windows, cushions knocked off the couch, and one pillow shredded almost to bits and scattered around the floor. Princess stood trembling and whining in the center of the living room destruction, and she flew forward the moment Tessa stepped in.

  Oh. No one had said anything about separation anxiety.

  Tessa put down the bags and scooped her up, annoyed about the mess but more feeling sorry for Princess. “All right,” she murmured. Princess’ bones nearly rattled from her shivers. “It’s all right, I’m home.”

  But, looking around at the mess she had made, Tessa knew that this was going to be harder than she had expected. Not her fault, but still a disappointment and frustration. A wrench in the otherwise-smooth works.

  Fine. It was fine. She knew Princess had some anxiety issues — they both did. And if they could help each other through them, sort themselves out, grow together … well, that was kind of ideal, wasn’t it?

  Tessa set Princess back down, and the dog whined and pressed against her leg, still shivering. “All right, it’s all right,” Tessa cooed, venturing further into the house to make a more thorough assessment of what damage had been done.

  A throw pillow torn up, some marks along the windowsill, a wet spot on the rug near the coffee table — nothing too bad, nothing that couldn’t be cleaned or replaced.

  “All right,” she said, sitting down on the couch and patting the cushion beside her. Princess jumped up and pressed against her side. Her shivering had quieted a little, but she stared up with fear in her wide amber eyes. “Shh, it’s fine. You’re fine.”

  She clung to her, to Tessa’s side or ankles, the rest of the night, never venturing further away than a step or two as if worried that she was going to leave again.

  Well, they’d have to do something about that. Not that Tessa cared to leave home, but she couldn’t have Princess tearing up the house every time she stepped outside. For tonight, though, she let her cling, grateful for the warmth, the snuggles that meant she was home for the night and not looking to be anywhere else.

  Perhaps this weekend, she’d take her to the dog park. There was one, usually quiet, just off the downtown walkway in Beaver Park. Last time she went by it, she noticed that it even had a few little agility obstacles — ramps and poles and tires to run up and bend around and
jump through.

  It might be fun to see if she’d be interested in a little agility course. It had always looked like a good time whenever Tessa saw it on TV. Get them both moving around and being outside with something more to think about than the ways the outside world could kill you.

  Yes, she decided as they went to bed. If the weather was decent over the weekend, they’d venture out to the dog park. Get out some of that surely pent-up energy from Princess’ little terrier body, breathe some fresh air — and hopefully not have to deal with anyone else.

  The sun woke Tessa up before her alarm the next morning. It was rare to get much sunlight this time of year — November tended to be clouds and cold rain from end to end — and waking up to sunshine, even if at a time earlier than she preferred to wake, put an immediate smile on her face.

  Princess blinked and stretched when Tessa rolled over, then shook herself and stood, nose bumping her forehead and tongue warm and wet as it swiped along her cheek.

  Tessa grinned. “Good morning to you, too.”

  It was sunny, her bed was warm, and her dog loved her.

  She hadn’t felt this comfortable in her own skin since Livy died.

  Maybe that was it — maybe it was just the fact that she felt strangely good this morning, with the sun shining and another living creature pressed up against her — but, whatever the reason, she found herself reaching for her phone, dismissing the alarm, and scrolling through her recent calls to find the Pretty Paws number.

  Tessa hadn’t said what she meant to say a couple of days ago. She’d gone in there initially for a purpose and had allowed her anxiety to rewrite that purpose.

  That wasn’t something she could allow herself to do anymore. Not if she wanted to actually accomplish the goal she’d set for herself. Irene was expecting the externship paperwork within the next two days, and if she didn’t get it, Tessa would fail out of the Harper Jones vet tech program.

  But she couldn’t do that. She couldn’t.

  The phone rang. Tessa’s hands shook. She buried her free one into the rough hair on Princess’ back and drew some steadiness from the warmth there and from the way her eyes, having slipped closed again as if she intended to fall back to sleep, peered up at her, almost glowing in the morning sunlight.

  She believed in her without reserve. Tessa couldn’t let her down by being a coward.

  “Thank you for calling Pretty Paws. This is Eliza.”

  “Eliza,” Tessa echoed, trying not to let the relief of a familiar voice sound too heavy in the word. “Hey, it’s Tessa. Tessa McKinley? I was there the other day?”

  “Oh, yes, of course. Hi! How are you?”

  “Uh…”

  No. None of that. She glanced at Princess again. She licked her arm, and though Tessa knew that dogs couldn’t smile, the expression in her eyes felt like a smile anyway.

  She cleared her throat and firmed up her voice. “I’m good. I was wondering — I meant to speak to Dr. Dale the other day, and I never really got a chance to. Could I do that now?”

  “Yeah, sure. I think he’s just at his desk right now. Hold on a sec, lemme grab him.”

  The line filled with the sound of some inoffensive elevator music. Tessa rubbed at Princess’ ears where she liked it most, the motion making it easier to ignore the shivering still clinging to her fingers. She licked her arm again.

  “Tessa!” Dr. Dale’s voice replaced the hold music, more quickly than she’d expected. “How are you?”

  “Good. I’m-I’m good.”

  “And how’s Princess doing? Is she settling in all right?”

  She smiled. “Yeah. She’s great. We haven’t had any problems. Well,” she amended, because that wasn’t strictly true, “there was a little bout of separation anxiety yesterday, but it wasn’t awful.”

  “From Princess? Hmm. I wouldn’t’ve thought — but then, it doesn’t surprise me either. I think Leslie has a class for that, if you’re interested.”

  “Yeah. Yeah, actually. That’d be … great. I’d love a little help with it.”

  His smile was audible in his voice, in the warmth that seeped into his words. “I’ll let her know. Anyway, what can I do for you?”

  Here it was. The moment.

  No stumbling at the last hurdle, Tessa, she instructed herself. You’ve done that enough already.

  “Actually, I’ve been wondering. I’ve been studying to be a vet tech for the last couple of years, and the last thing I need before taking the certification test is an externship, and Eliza mentioned that you’d be interested in taking one soon, and…”

  She was babbling. She let her voice fade off for a moment, took a breath that she was sure he could hear on the other end of the line, and asked the question.

  “Would you consider taking me as an extern?”

  There was a pause, not long, but on the phone felt like several lifetimes. Tessa wished she could see what his expression was doing. Was he frowning, trying to come up with a polite way to say no? She had made a complete fool of herself in front of him just a few days ago, after all — not the sort of thing a hopeful employee-type ought to do before their possible boss.

  But his answer, when it came, wasn’t dismissive, but thoughtful. “Which program have you been studying with?”

  “Harper Jones.”

  This time, the pause was barely there. “Ah, excellent! They’re a good one.” The smile was back in his voice. “Yes, I would love to consider you for the position. Is there a time you could come in for a working interview?”

  Tessa didn’t mention that was the purpose of the time she was in the other day. Maybe he didn’t know that, and if so, there seemed no point in telling him and embarrassing herself further. “Yeah. Anytime. I work from home, so whatever is good for you can be good for me.”

  “Hmm.” Another, obviously thoughtful, pause. She imagined him scrolling — in his mind or on some kind of screen — through his schedule, looking for a time he could suggest. “How’s Monday? 2:30?”

  “Perfect!” The word was little more than a breath as Tessa struggled against the constricting happening like iron bands around her chest.

  “Good. I’ll see you on Monday afternoon, then. Say hi to Princess for me.”

  “Here, say hi to her yourself.” She held out the phone to Princess, pressing it close to her nose. “Say hi to Dr. Dale.”

  Princess sniffed the screen, curious and maybe a little confused, and Tessa could hear, faintly, Dr. Dale chuckle on the other end.

  She brought the phone back to her ear and laughed a little, too. “Monday at 2:30 then.”

  “See ya then, Tessa.”

  They hung up, and the smile wouldn’t come off her face. She dropped the phone, then turned and wrapped Princess up in her arms.

  “I did it, puppy,” she whispered into her fur, burying her face against the dog’s warm shoulder because there was nothing else she could do. “I did it! I’ve got the interview, and I’m going to do it!”

  Princess yipped once, and Tessa imagined that she was congratulating her. A silly thought, perhaps, but one that clung to her for the rest of the day.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The knock on the door happened at six o’clock precisely. Tessa was glad that Eliza was on time — she’d already spent more than an hour gently panicking about the very idea that someone was going to come into her house, and she didn’t think she’d be able to handle it if that person was also late.

  She kept her house clean — so clean Livy would often call Tessa a neat freak, but then, her idea of cleaning up after dinner was to toss all the dishes into the sink and let them stack up for days or more until she didn’t have any more clean forks, so Tessa always took her label of neat freak with a grain of salt.

  But some of the damage Princess had done in her panic attack earlier this afternoon wasn’t the sort that could be easily tidied. The ruined cushions and puddles Tessa was able to clean up, but the scratches around the door? The chipped paint of the windowsills?


  Not the sort of thing she could run a rag over and make disappear. That would be a trip to a hardware store for sandpaper and new paint, and she’d already imposed on Maggie once today.

  So, when Eliza knocked on the door at six o’clock precisely, Tessa realized she’d just have to let her in while her door and windows looked like they’d been scratched by a wild animal.

  Perhaps she wouldn’t even notice. Perhaps Tessa was making a mountain out of the world’s smallest molehill.

  That was something she was supposed to be good at.

  She pulled in a steadying breath, straightened the front of her sweater, and opened the door.

  It was Eliza, as expected, carrying three textbooks and absolutely beaming at her above them. The force of the smile nearly knocked her back a step — Tessa wasn’t expecting her to be quite so excited about studying.

  Tessa waved her inside, took her coat, and exchanged a few words about how quick it got dark this time of year. Eliza crouched down when she saw Princess and offered her a hand to sniff, but Princess pressed close to Tessa’s leg and eyed her with unmistakable suspicion.

  “Oh, that’s how we’re playing it now?” Eliza said, her smile still sunshine bright and her voice tilting toward teasing. “I see. Find a home and you forget we’ve ever even met.”

  Princess only continued to stare at her, not growling or otherwise indicating that she was unhappy, but not wagging her tail and creeping forward for a pet either.

  Eliza stood, shaking her head indulgently.

  “What do you want on the pizza?” Tessa asked, her attention shifting toward her phone where she had an order half-started.

  “Anything but pineapple is good. And anchovies. If you like anchovies, we can’t be friends.”

  Tessa grinned. “I was about to say the same thing. Pepperoni and extra cheese?”

  “Sounds great.”

  A few more taps, and the pizza was ordered. “It’ll be here in half an hour.”

  Tessa led Eliza into the living room, and they settled onto the couch, and that’s where the gentle stream of small talk faded. Truth was, Tessa didn’t know what they were supposed to talk about, how people went about studying with each other. Did they look at their textbooks and quiz each other on the content? Explain concepts to the other like it was a college lecture in the hope that repetition and explanation would make the information cement in their minds? Discuss and argue the subject like opinions around a Thanksgiving dinner?