Rescue My Heart

by Jerry Cole

  “You should probably call and talk to them yourself, but the vet said they need to give her antibiotics and fluids because her breathing doesn’t sound good and her fecal sample had some abnormalities.”

  “All right, that’s fine. I was curious more than anything. I’ll call them later.” He paused. “Thank you for driving her down there. I would have done it myself if I’d had the option, but…”

  “Hey, no problem. It needed to get done, and I’m not busy sticking my hand up a horse’s butt,” Jensen’s tone was light.

  Blake snorted. “Yeah, colic is never much fun. For the horse or for me. Are you on your way back?”

  “Yeah, I should be there in half an hour or so.”

  Blake was on the verge of asking the other man if he wanted to have dinner when he was interrupted by knocking on his office door and his vet tech scolding him that he had another appointment in five minutes. He sighed. “I need to get going, but I’ll talk to you soon. Thank you again.”

  “Yeah, no problem.”

  Blake hung up and heaved himself out of his chair, cursing his cowardice. He might be misreading the signs that Jensen was gay, but he didn’t think he was, and, much as he hated to admit it, he was lonely, and it would be nice to try and date again.

  He headed into the hallway to be greeted by Beth’s raised eyebrows. “Have you eaten today?”

  “Not since breakfast…” he replied sheepishly.

  Beth rolled her eyes. “If I order you a pizza will you eat it? You’re losing weight again, and even Marco noticed.”

  Blake sighed. “Yes, I’ll eat it as long as you put some pepperoni on it.”

  “Pepperoni with vegetables, coming up.” She looked at him assessing. “Jeanie came by earlier and said to tell you that they took photos of a bird and a box and that she’s hoping to get a list of anyone I can think of in this area that might know where the bird came from? And then she said you offered to keep the bird?” Her expression was skeptical.

  Beth was originally from Nicaragua, though she’d lived in the United States since she was ten or eleven years old. Her ability to speak Spanish, coupled with her sharp wit and incredible organization skills made her invaluable to their practice. She lived in a town with her granddaughter. Her son had died in a car accident a few years ago, and her daughter-in-law had been in the midst of her Ph.D. at the time, often traveling to remote locations to sample various bug species. The plan was for Lily to move back in with her mother as soon as the Ph.D. was done, but in the meantime, the arrangement seemed to work for everyone.

  “It’s a cockatoo, and it’s been abused.” He went to the hall sink to wash his hands before seeing his next patient. If he recalled correctly, it was going to be a large cat with a weight problem named Felix.

  “I thought you didn’t want pets of your own.”

  “I…didn’t. But I’ve always had a soft spot for cockatoos. Have since I was in vet school. And this one seems sweet and it needs a friend.” He dried his hands on a paper towel, not looking at her.

  “And of course, you need friends sometimes, too.” She sighed. “All right. I hope you’re not getting yourself in trouble with this.”

  “I’m not. I promise. Can you order me two large cages? Sized for a cockatoo? One for here and one for my house. And food and bowls and whatever else you can think of. Toys and play stands and stuff like that.”

  “Of course. You’re planning to bring it to work?”

  “Well, I would feel guilty leaving it home all day by itself. Herself. We think her name is Ginger.”

  Beth snorted. “Coming up. I’ll call it in and see if I can get them to give me a discount by telling them the sob story.”

  “You’re devious.”

  She shrugged and turned to go back to the front office, and Blake went into the exam room.

  ***

  A few hours and two cats with upper respiratory infections later, he finally got off work and headed back to his house. It was dark out already, and he had to be careful and watch for deer and elk and the occasional moose in the roads.

  As soon as he set foot in the door, he yanked his boots off, dumped his jacket and his backpack full of paperwork, and headed the opposite direction from the little waiting area and office, into the living room, where he poured himself a scotch from the sideboard. He pulled his phone out to check it and noticed some calls from the veterinary school.

  Blake hit the ‘return call’ button and put the phone on speaker so he could collapse into his couch without having to hold it up to his ear. It took a few rings before someone picked up.

  “I was wondering when you’d get your shit together and call me back!” a very familiar voice exclaimed from the other end. It was a man’s voice with a thick Boston accent, and he would have known it anywhere.

  “Mich? The hell?”

  “Yeah, small fucking world, huh? I’ve got your cockatoo right here looking at me with the most judgmental fucking expression.” Mich had gone to veterinary school with Blake and had then promptly moved back to Boston to be with his girlfriend. Apparently, he had not stayed there.

  “Probably because it knows you shouldn’t cuss at your clients. And it isn’t technically my cockatoo until Jeanie figures out what the hell happened to it. It’s…kind of evidence until then.”

  “But you’re paying its vet bills, and really we both know if someone boxed it up and left it in the snow, it’s gonna be your cockatoo. Man, I didn’t even think you liked birds.”

  “Moluccans kind of grew on me during residency. Speaking of which…why the hell are you in Ft. Collins looking at cockatoos?” Blake rubbed the bridge of his nose, exhaustion clawing at him now that he was home and warm and had a scotch. The pizza that Beth had forced him to eat was long enough ago that he was debating getting something out of the freezer.

  “Guess you didn’t hear then…Natasha and I broke up.”

  Blake sat up and grabbed the phone, switching it off speaker and holding it to his ear. “You what?! I thought you were planning the wedding!”

  “I was…we were…but I caught her cheating on me, and I ended things, obviously. Didn’t want to stay and run into her all the time, so I called Professor Mitchell, and here I am, having a staring contest with your cockatoo.”

  “Damn, man, I’m so sorry. That’s awful.”

  There was a heavy sigh on the other end of the line. “Yeah, I was pretty depressed for a while. Thought about calling you when I moved into town, but I felt like shit for not being around when you were laid up. I was a shitty friend.”

  Blake’s throat got tight, and he stood up to pace. “No, don’t blame yourself for that. Seriously. You didn’t know.”

  “I did know, though. I heard through the grapevine. And I should have…I don’t know. Done something.” The other man sounded equally emotional, and he could hear Ginger making clucking noises in the background. “At any rate, I’ll see you when you come to get her. She had us worried a few times this morning, but I think she’s out of the woods. We had her on IV antibiotics, and then her sodium levels crashed, and it was touch and go for a while there. Also, she has a prolapsed cloaca, though it isn’t too bad yet. It might need to be fixed surgically at some point, though, so be aware and don’t pet her anywhere except her head.”

  Blake rubbed his chin. “I still wish we knew why someone dumped her.”

  “If she was a breeder bird and she prolapsed, maybe that’s why? She can’t safely lay eggs like that, and a lot of the breeding operations aren’t really great at keeping up with vet care.”

  “You think she was used for breeding? She’s awfully good-natured to not have been someone’s pet at some stage.”

  “Maybe she was given up, or her owner died, and the breeder bought her? Especially if she’s been plucking a long time, that would have been a likely scenario.”

  “Yeah…that’s possible.” Blake paused and nodded, throat still tight. “Well, thanks, Mich. I appreciate everything you’ve done for her. I�
�ll keep you posted on whatever we find out.”

  “Any time. Hopefully, I’m not on shift when you come down to get her, and we can grab a beer or something.”

  “Yeah, that would be great.”

  Chapter Five

  It was a week later, and Jens was at work when Blake appeared, looking sheepish. The coffee shop was quiet in the lull between lunch and dinner. Jens had never seen Blake in the place before.

  He came up to the counter where Alex was cashiering. “Hi, uh, can I just get a large black coffee, please? And then can I maybe talk to Jensen for a minute?” He smiled a little sheepishly.

  Alex raised an eyebrow and looked at Jens, who was already getting the coffee.

  “That’s up to him. Two dollars, please.”

  Blake quickly handed Alex a five as Jens nodded toward a back nook of the coffee shop that was isolated enough talk. “No worries about the change.” He followed the other man toward the nook, ignoring the snort from Alex.

  Jens handed him his coffee. “Is everything okay?”

  “Yeah, yeah everything is fine.” He sipped the coffee, then remembered he hadn’t put any creamer in it and made a face. “I…uh just wanted to say thank you. For taking Ginger to Ft. Collins. You…I just…yeah. I realized I probably came across as a bit of a jerk when I told you that you were essentially taking my bird to the vet for me and…yeah. I’m sorry about that.” Blake rubbed the back of his neck, turning steadily redder. “I make decisions sometimes… then I come up with a plan, and I don’t always take into account how it comes across to anyone else. So, I’m sorry.”

  Jensen nodded. “Apology accepted.” He smiled a little, “You did come across as a bit of a jerk, but at least it was because you gave a shit about her.”

  “Well, someone else clearly didn’t.” He sipped the black coffee again, despite himself.

  Jensen’s expression darkened. “Any development on that? Jeanie said nothing had happened when I talked to her yesterday.”

  “No, nothing I’ve heard. But…I may have told her to go talk to a few of the cockatoo breeders in Longmont and that area. Some of them are good people who are just passionate about cockatoos, but some of them are scumbags. I expect she probably had a home at some point since a breeder wouldn’t have named her.”

  “So…we do know she’s a her?”

  Blake smiled. “Yeah, the final DNA testing from the genetics lab came back. Ginger is a lady. A female Moluccan cockatoo.” He paused for a moment, then forged on, “I meant to invite you to see her whenever you want to… She finished the course of antibiotics, and she’s doing well.” He was blushing.

  Jensen grinned widely. “I’d like that. Maybe I’ll come by this evening. I’d enjoy seeing Ginger…and you.”

  Blake turned intensely red and took another gulp of the coffee. “Yeah, that…would be fine. I’ll let you know if I have any calls come through, but it should be okay. I would enjoy that.”

  They said their goodbyes a moment later, and Blake walked out into the evening. It was cold outside, but not snowing, and Blake’s limp was a little less pronounced than it had been before. Jensen watched him go, then went behind the counter again to man the espresso machine.

  “Blake Renoir, huh? Did not see that one coming.” Alex leaned against the counter by the cash register, smirking.

  It was Jensen’s turn to blush now. “I’m just going to see the bird.”

  “Uh huh, …you definitely just want to see his bird.” He held up his hands before Jensen could protest further. “I’m glad you’re getting out more, that’s all. I knew Blake was gay, but I’ve honestly never seen him with anyone before. He certainly never flirts that I’ve ever heard.”

  “Blake hasn’t dated anyone of any gender in over a decade.” Angie stuck her head out of the back room, causing both of them to startle a little. They had both apparently forgotten she was there ordering supplies. “Not since the accident that caused his limp. But when he was dating, it was always men.”

  “Was that accident here?” Alex asked. “I mean, in town?”

  “No, no. Denver I think. I’m not really sure about the details, though. He didn’t talk about it much, and I didn’t think it was really right to ask.” She stood up and stretched, then wandered over to get some coffee from the carafe. “I don’t understand why that would have prevented him from dating, though. He’s not bad looking, and he gets around fine most of the time. He uses a cane occasionally, but not very often. He’s a bit grumpy, sure, but he’s a good person underneath it.”

  “Yeah. He wanted to apologize for how he handled the whole cockatoo thing.” Jensen’s blush was back. “He was kind of an arrogant jerk, but at least he realized it.”

  Angie smiled knowingly. “Well, I hope things work out between you two. At the very least, I hope you can be friends. He always seems lonely.” She turned to go back into the storage room with her coffee, and Alex made air quotes as he mouthed “friends.”

  Jens rolled his eyes and swatted at Alex, then made a new carafe of coffee.

  Chapter Six

  Blake didn’t call with an excuse about why Jensen shouldn’t come, despite desperately wanting to do just that. He was terrified at how the other man made him feel, and he had no clue how to handle any of it, but there was a voice in the back of his head saying that there was no harm in trying. He wanted…something. Maybe just friendship or maybe he wanted to jump the guy, he couldn’t really say. He just wanted something.

  He had just put a chicken in the oven when he heard a knock on the front door. He shut the oven and set the timer, then hurried to the foyer.

  Jensen grinned up at him when he opened the front door, and Blake could tell his face was heating again. “Hi, thanks for having me over.”

  “No, problem…” Blake stepped aside, and Jensen came in, then pulled his boots off so he wouldn’t drip on the floor. “I, er, put a chicken in the oven. It won’t be ready for a few hours, but I don’t know if you’d be interested in dinner?”

  “Dinner sounds great, actually. If you don’t mind me sticking around that long.” Jensen pulled off his expensive-looking black wool peacoat and gray scarf, and Blake took them to hang up in the hall closet. Underneath, he was wearing an emerald green button down that brought out his eyes and hair, and a pair of dark jeans that were almost obscene they were so tight. Without his boots, he was even shorter than Blake initially realized, and even his black hiking socks looked expensive. Blake felt instantly shabby, though at least he had showered and changed after work. His jeans were old and faded, and he had on a red and black flannel shirt his mother had bought him for Christmas some years before she died.

  Blake shook his head. “I don’t mind at all. Beer? Wine?”

  “Red wine, please.” He followed Blake back into the rest of the house, looking around at the eclectic mix of modern and Victorian décor. “You’ve done a great job with this place.”

  Blake snorted as they entered the kitchen, and he stopped at a bar area to grab a wine glass and bottle. “I didn’t do any of this, it was all my mother before she died. She was an interior designer for the rich people down in Boulder. Made a lot of money by making other people’s houses beautiful. My dad walked out when I was little, so it was just us. We lived in shitty apartments for years until she made enough money to buy this place, and then we lived here while it was still a relic of the 1970s and full of avocado green and shit brown.” He looked around the modern, tasteful kitchen and sighed. “This place was as much her baby as I was, but she died not too long after she finished the remodels. She didn’t get to enjoy it nearly as long as she should have.” He poured a glass of red wine for Jensen and retrieved his own beer from next to the stove. “Sorry, that’s probably more information than you wanted after just a polite compliment.”

  “No! No, I just wish I could have met your mother. She sounds really phenomenal.”

  “Ginger!” A scratchy voice echoed from the living room. “Ginger, pretty bird!”

&nbs
p; Jensen and Blake both laughed, and Blake led the way into the living room. “Come on, we had better say hello to her highness before she gets mad.”

  Ginger herself was sitting on a fleece pad inside the open door of a very large cage. She was surrounded by chewed blocks of colorful wood and rope, which must have been a toy at one point. She climbed out of the cage and onto the top of it and began bobbing her head eagerly, screeching, when she saw Jensen.

  “Hey, pretty girl! Don’t scream, don’t scream, we’re here,” Jensen walked toward her cautiously.

  “She pretty clearly remembers you,” Blake snorted.

  “Hopefully she doesn’t want to bite me.” Jensen set his wineglass down on a side table.

  “No, no, her body posture is friendly. Her eyes aren’t dilated, and she’s not in a defensive posture, so you should be okay.” Blake showed him how to hold his arm out for her. “Now just ask her to step up.”

  “Ginger, step up?” Jensen asked, looking nervous as the big bird stuck her head out, rested her beak on his arm for balance, and then carefully stepped up. Jensen looked on in wonder. “Oh wow.”

  “See? She likes you. She wouldn’t bite you, would you Ginger?”

  Ginger squawked.

  “Come on, let’s sit down. She isn’t as heavy as she could be, but it isn’t comfortable to hold her on your arm forever either.”

  Jensen moved carefully to the sofa and sat down, and Ginger stepped off of his arm to perch on his leg, digging her claws into it. “So… you really are keeping her?”

  Blake sat down across from him in the wingback armchair. “Yeah, unless they find someone who has a legal claim to her. I’d say whoever dumped her in a box doesn’t want her back, but who knows. There are no facilities for exotic animals up here, so it isn’t like the sheriff’s office could hold onto her very long.”

  Jensen tentatively began to scratch the bird’s head behind her crest, and she closed her eyes and leaned into his hand. “She’s really friendly. Are all birds like this?”