by M. C. Cerny
“Definitely not. Pumpkin here, aka Precious, is getting acupuncture, which is not my thing.” The Basset Hound, upon hearing his name, woofed loudly.
“So what may I call you then?”
“My name is Winnie.”
She was definitely not a Winnie from The Wonder Years. Pretty in a refined sort of way. Expensive clothes, accessories, and a haughtiness that came with her snappy attitude reminded me of a city girl out of her element. It was a contradiction to the vortex of chaos she arrived with, and I found that curiously endearing.
“All right then, Winnie, let’s get this big guy some relief for his achy joints.” I pulled out some alcohol swabs and lowered the table to the floor to help the big dog who would definitely be getting a dietary recommendation from me later onto the table. “Hold his head and the table will lift him. Do you know if he’s generally nervous? Our regular pet acupuncturist is out, but I’m trained and certified to do this.”
“Oh uh, I have no idea.”
The other dogs stayed sitting, and Pumpkin groaned as the table lifted him up to my reach.
“Keep his head near you and rub behind his ears. That usually calms them and the needle is small so they don’t feel pain, more like a pinch as the pain receptors start working to relieve the joint and muscle pain.”
“Uh huh.”
Prepping what I needed, I glanced up to see Winnie looking decidedly green. This wasn’t good. I’d never had someone faint, but I’d heard stories about it. Her eyes focused on my hands holding the needle.
“Winnie?” I stepped toward her, but she didn’t move, not even a blink.
“Y-yes?” Her throat worked down a swallow, and I had to keep her talking and alert.
“Winnie, look at me. I’m Dr. Calloway.”
Her eyes remained focused on my hands, not my face as I had hoped.
“No, you’re looking at the needle.” I snapped my fingers, causing her eyes to blink and look at me. “You can call me Chase, but look at me.” I put the acupuncture needle down, trying to gauge her level of faint readiness.
“Are you afraid of needles? It’s okay if you are.” I was worried I had a fainter on my hands and those hands were already full of dog, keeping Pumpkin who wanted to roll off on the table.
Her face scrunched with a sarcastic response. “No.” Her head shook. “That’s ridiculous.”
I didn’t believe the weak refusal when she kept talking.
“Um, that’s a really big needle and you’re going to stick that where?”
My mind wandered a second before coming back realizing her eyelashes were fluttering dangerously close together.
“It usually is pretty big.” I slid the first needle in, and Precious blew out a shuddering breath. “Are you all right?” I asked again trying to not think about inappropriate things. Winnie swayed against the table and now was not the time for my dick and my brain to cross signals at work. Making sure she didn’t pass out was a priority to any flirtation I might be entertaining.
“Okay, yeah, I’m good.”
I doubted it, because her voice had gone up a note or two.
“Hey, did the lights go dim in here?” Winnie wobbled, and I reached for her, catching her in my arms before she fell.
“You’re fainting, Winnie.”
She mumbled something, but I was too late to warn her, and she was out cold before she finished whatever it was she wanted to say. I rested my cheek against her head of soft hair that smelled of coffee and expensive shampoo. I felt the soft clammy skin of her hand seeking her pulse. Yeah, she definitely didn’t like needles. I carried her over to a chair and sat her down, calling for Sharon. This looked all kinds of bad with whimpering dogs and an unconscious girl snuggled against my coat.
The dogs started barking again when the door opened, and Sharon gasped. “What’s going on?”
“Can you take these guys to the boarding area while I get Winnie revived?”
“Is she all right?” Sharon tried to take her hand, but I moved Winnie in my arms, keeping her firmly in my grasp.
“She’s fine. Just a little woozy from the needles, I’m guessing. There’s always one.” Awkwardly, I laughed, and Sharon took the leashes, leaving me with a passed out pet-sitter and one stinky hound dog thumping his tail happily on the table.
Looking over, I asked, “Why didn’t you tell me she was a fainter, Pumpkin?”
The dog didn’t respond except to let out a massive dog fart on the table.
“Awesome. I’ll keep that in mind.” Rolling my eyes, I adjusted Winnie up in my lap more securely. I reached for an alcohol pad, getting licked by the dog, and tore it open, waving it under her nose. Her head flopped back from the smell, squinting her eyes. “Easy there.” I rubbed her back and checked her pulse, which was beating strong from the tender spot on her neck that suddenly fascinated me.
“Oh, shit balls,” she grumbled, coming around.
“No, that would be Pumpkin.”
She chuckled, hiding her head in my shoulder for a second, her body relaxed against mine, feeling soft and shapely. She kept laughing until she caught her breath. The situation was funny and I found myself laughing with her giving in to the contagious and refreshing moment.
“Oh God, that dog stinks.”
“He could use a different diet and his nails clipped shorter.”
“Flowers. Can he eat flowers?” She giggled.
“No, but I can recommend a prescription diet that should help. How are you feeling?”
She struggled to sit up, and I found myself strangely missing her leaning against my chest.
“Like I got knocked over by a bus. Woozy.”
“That’s normal. Do you faint often?”
“No, not really. Apparently, this only happens in vet offices.”
“And you told me you were fine with needles.”
“Well, to be fair, I’d never seen one as long as yours before.”
We both chuckled until the awkward silence set in among other unspoken dirty thoughts peppered by dog farting. Cue Pumpkin the romance killer.
“All right, well, let’s get you standing.” Regretfully, I helped her stand up. Our bodies were flush against each other before she cleared her throat and took a step back, clutching the table on unsteady legs.
“Feel free to give yourself a minute.” I didn’t want her to go.
“I’m better now, thanks. I think I’ll wait outside, though, if that’s all right. Pumpkin is probably better at this than I am.”
“Sure, let Sharon know to come back. She took the other two charges to the boarding pen.”
“Thanks.” Winnie left the exam room, leaving a trail of her expensive perfume behind. It didn’t mask Pumpkin’s odor, but it teased of something better. I met her all of five minutes ago and knew nothing about her. When she left, she also took her smile, and I found I wanted that back.
3
Winnie
Only I, Winsome Gray was capable of fainting at the vet’s office with hottie Dr. Doo-fucking-little. I wasn’t going to survive the summer pet-sitting if Pumpkin, the silent but deadly farter, needed these acupuncture treatments regularly. I felt flushed and my panties were damp in the I-wish-I-had-been-working-out-snatch-sweat kind of way. It was mortifying, utterly embarrassing and the story of my not so uptown Manhattan life for the next ten weeks.
Pinching the bridge of my nose, Sharon interrupted my inner monologue. “So Pumpkin is all set, and Dr. Calloway wrote a script for the prescription diet with directions.”
“Thanks.” Thoroughly embarrassed, I peeled myself off the wall where, who was I kidding, I wasn’t blending in anywhere. “Anything else?” Sharon handed me the leashes back for all three dogs that seemed much more subdued now. I felt like a cat in heat, ready to scramble up the wall, but the dogs, damn them, looked cool as cucumbers, tails and tongues wagging.
Furry Fuckers.
“Pumpkin has regular treatments set up bi-monthly, but I do see here that Bailey is due for a dis
temper shot.” She clicked away on her computer and each keystroke upped my anxiety further. “So how does next week look for you?” This lady had to be kidding. At hearing her name, Bailey pulled on the leash like crazy to get out the door. I didn’t blame her one bit.
“Fine, great, same time?” My arm was about to be dislocated by this beast if I couldn’t get out of there.
“I’ll put you in the computer!” Sharon continued typing and writing, but I was halfway out of the office already.
“See ya!” The door practically hit me on my ass, making me stumble forward down the steps onto the sidewalk. The dogs were more than ready to go and I trailed behind. Ah hell, if I was lucky maybe I wouldn’t see the good doctor next week. I’d have to stock up on clean panties and ice water for my veins so I could keep my cool next time. Thinking about his broad shoulders that were more suited to a gym or a football field wasn’t helping.
Getting home occurred without incident. Luckily. I don’t think I could have handled much more today. I opened the door and the dogs raced in, so I dropped their leashes thinking they’d be fine. The phone rang, and I barely caught the barstool Bailey had caught with her leash. Righting the stool, I picked up the house phone, wondering why my aunt still had one at all. We were a generation of cell phones and Wi-Fi except here in the mountains.
“Hello?” I shoved the handheld receiver between my shoulder and ear, putting down my handful of mail retrieved from the box outside. I opened the refrigerator door, scanning the shelves for food besides leftover organically sourced compost grown berries.
“Winnie! Baby, how are you?” Mom sounded cheerful, ridiculously so, like she was glad I was out of the city and not causing her trouble. Her voice was New York nasal, all bagels and lox, but spicy, and not to be confused with our neighbors from the Jersey shore.
“Good, Mom, I just got back with the fur-beasts from the vet appointment.” She rambled on about my aunt’s bleeding heart for rescuing animals, and I thought if she knew she was leaving them with me the plant killer, she’d probably come back from her trip quickly.
“I think there’s something wrong with your cell phone, though.” Mom said. I looked around and grabbed it from my bag, seeing the bars of service show virtually nothing here.
“I think I need a different carrier up here. Maybe the cell service is wonky, or you could reactivate my international calling plan. I mean the woods up here are practically another country.” Giving up on food, I opened the freezer and pulled out a Ben & Jerry’s ice cream in some caramel and chocolate concoction. I pulled the drawer open and looked for the biggest spoon I could find, but grabbed a fork instead, stabbing deeply into the frozen treat. Somebody should really do some dishes around here and then I remember that someone is me. Damn.
“I’m not doing that so you can whine to your father and get out of this, Winsome. Did you forget to pay your bill?” Mom sounded so accusing when she asked things like this.
I scoffed with a laugh. “No. I paid it.” I think I paid. Shit. I might have to check and see if I paid it. Now I was distracted trying to remember my phone’s password so I could check my bill online and make sure I paid it since my auto-billing wasn’t hooked up for that. I shoved a double bite of ice cream in my mouth, sucking it down with a cool burn in the back of my throat that made me pant and run hot water over the fork.
“Oh and, honey, don’t forget about applying back to school while you’re up there. A business degree is like a high school diploma these days, a dime a dozen to get your foot in the door.” Suddenly that chunk of ice cream was freezing my brain in a nuclear fission of pain.
“Huh?” I only heard half of what my mother had been saying. Good grief, I kneeled down to the floor to have Roswell growling and licking my face while Pumpkin waddled over, tooting in my direction. The smell was enough to make your eyes water and your appetite vanish.
“Winnie, are you eating junk food? Seriously? Junk food spikes your sugars and makes you fat.”
“Mommm!” I’d heard none of the important stuff she’d been saying, but my brain centered on the fact she knew I was eating ice cream. The sweet creamy caramel soured in my mouth coupled with Pumpkin’s bodily functions, and I managed to get up and put the fork in the sink and the ice cream in the freezer without gagging.
“Honey, I’m only trying to help you. You’re only young once to catch a nice young man.” What she meant by nice young man was a doctor-lawyer-banker type because I had an expensive lifestyle of not knowing what the hell I wanted to do with my life. I tried that and it didn’t really work out so well. Get a degree in fashion merchandising didn’t exactly open the doors I thought it would. I’d been working out of college for a year and nothing panned out.
“Mom, I got here like yesterday…” Okay, close to a week ago. “And right now I’m busy dog walking and cleaning up poop. I’m checking some things out, but you’re the one who sent me up here for ten weeks unless I kill one of these beasts accidentally.” Anger reset my body temperature quickly.
“Winsome, don’t you try to guilt me. Your uncle had to really pull some strings so you wouldn’t get arrested for the fire alarm stunt you pulled.” This was the point I tried tuning out about ninety percent of what my mother said. “I can hear your grandmother rolling over in her grave as we speak—and your good for nothing father—don’t get me started on what he had to say about it…”
“Geez, you told Dad?”
Mom’s accent was honey thick as she continued on with her list of grievances. All we needed was the Yiddish and my guilt complex would engage in hyper drive.
“Of course I did. Who do you think is going to be paying you to be up there? You think my sister is going to have that kind of money for this fluff holiday?” That part was news to me since my aunt technically cut me a check for five hundred dollars. She probably thought that was for the whole summer, not each week now that I thought about it, groaning. Actually, it was probably for the vet bill.
Damn it.
Goodbye brand new Tiek ballet flats in hot pink on express shipping. I really hoped neon was a fad and I wasn’t missing out.
“So you talked to Dad?” There was only one way to turn this conversation around and it was for me to get Mom talking about herself and not whatever havoc I caused my separated co-parents.
“Have you been listening to anything I just said, Win?”
“Of course, Mom, so are you two going back out again?” My parents had this on-again, off-again romance for the last decade. Short story is that my dad cheated once with a woman he worked with and Mom couldn’t forgive him. I wasn’t sure she should forgive him, but if you think me pulling a fire alarm was bad, it was nothing compared to the craziness my mom pulled when she found out. Dad had been paying for it the last ten years while my mom pulled him in with false hope and then pushed him out right back to the curb. I’d seen more cardboard boxes and moving vans come and go that I no longer felt the anxiety when I drove past one on the highway.
“He always messes it up, Win, don’t get your hopes up.” And wasn’t that the truth?
“Mom, you have to either forgive him or let him go.” And I needed to find a direction and stay on course. It was easier said than done. My parents lived more years apart than they had together. My years growing up were marked by Christmas trees and Menorahs depending on my parents’ relationship status. I think one year we actually made it through all eight nights only to have the whole thing blow up by New Year’s in a fiery crash Dick Clark couldn’t save.
“I know, honey, but I love your dad and it does work until something reminds me of her.”
“I know.”
“Enough about me, Win. Use this time wisely. Your dad is planning to drive up with me in about a month to see you when he gets back from Peru and after the urology conference in Tokyo. He has a residency in Albany he’s considering.” My parents in one car was nothing to get excited about. Their volatility could go south before they even made it ten miles over the George Wa
shington bridge, but it was something.
“Love you.”
“Love you back.” I hung up the house phone, trying to remember what it was I needed my phone’s password for. Oh well. I figured I would remember it later.
The dogs broke the tender silence, chasing squirrels through the window, and I was heralded in ten different directions all over again.
4
Chase
I finished charts from the last two appointments in my office when my cell phone buzzed across my desk. “Hey, baby K.” My younger sister Kristen called often and usually when she wanted something. I signed off on the scripts for Mrs. Schwartz’s Pomeranian and Donnie DeLuca’s Pit Bull mix who was suffering from an enlarged heart condition drumming the pen on the desk. Donnie was going to need a shoulder to cry on and a double pint of draft beer at Easton’s if we couldn’t get Nutter Butter’s heart under control.
Kristen made exasperated noises through the phone. “Are you coming to Mom’s Fourth of July barbeque?”
“That depends,” I told her, sitting back in my office chair spinning toward the window. The view outside wasn’t much except for the shaded worn brick back alley of the building. I kept a trap back there so I could TNR a colony of feral cats and provide neutering and health services while a local shelter helped to foster and adopt the tame kittens while returning the rest to their colonies.
Kristen snapped. “On what?” She drew my attention back the conversation while I made a note for the vet tech to order more wet cat food to put out there.
“Are you going to have another throw-down food fight with Damien Hart this year?” I could literally hear my sister rolling her eyes through the phone. Those two had been involved in something chaotic over the years. I would have done my big brother duty by kicking Damien’s ass, but I knew not all of what happened was his fault for the animosity between the two of them. It stemmed back to seventh grade, and I couldn’t keep up with the drama train that derailed for those two.
