Page 3 of Smoke and Mirrors

“Really?” I know there’s dog pee all down the front of my mint green shirt. I can feel it, soaking through against my skin.

“Thanks for that, Peter.” I sigh as I place him back in his cage. He sits and whimpers at me, obviously knowing I’m not entirely enthused. It wasn’t his fault, though. I managed to excite him too much, and he couldn’t help it.

Petting him on the head, I smile at him. “It’s okay.” His tail starts tapping again, and his mouth opens, tongue rolling out to the side.

“What is that?”

I turn my head toward the snarky voice. Steven—my boss—he runs the vet clinic. But if I’m totally honest, he never really does anything. I’m completely confused as to why he owns a place that cares for animals when it seems like he pretty much hates them.

“Peter got a little excited,” I tell him, looking down at the wet patch on my shirt.

He screws up his nose, his lips pursing, reminding me of a rabbit. “Go and get cleaned up before someone sees you,” he orders in disgust before stomping away, mumbling to himself.

I roll my eyes, giving Peter one last pat before shutting the cage door. “Pee on him next time, will you?” I whisper, conspiring with Peter, who jumps at the cage door panting and wagging his tail as though I’ve just come up with the best idea ever.

I giggle to myself while weaving down the hall and into the staff room. We have lockers in there. Even though there are only about nine staff members here, it’s nice to be able to keep my things locked away. I don’t particularly trust Steven not to snoop.

I pull out a spare shirt, rolling my pee-soaked one up and placing it in a plastic bag and putting it back in my locker. It doesn’t really bother me that much. I’ve had a lot worse things done than being peed on. I’ve had to search through poop for missing wedding rings, help deliver calves—which involves being elbow deep in a cow. Hell, I’ve even been sprayed by a skunk when a good Samaritan brought one in that had been hit by a car.

Being a vet nurse isn’t always pretty, it isn’t glamorous, but hell if it doesn’t make me smile every day.

I have dreams, dreams of opening my own practice, one far away from Steven and his bad attitude, and even further away from the city. Growing up on a farm gave me the experience of being around all kinds of different animals. Not just house pets like you find in the city, but cows and horses and deer, big beautiful animals.

I want to treat everything. I don’t discriminate. I love my work.

Unfortunately, that dream’s far off. I need to save money and build up my reputation. But I know one day I’ll get there.

***

Once work’s finished for the day, I begin my trek home, which takes me around ten minutes to walk. Luckily, the vet clinic is in the opposite direction of the building that exploded last month. There’s still a really strong police presence throughout the city. It still sends chills down my spine every time I see them on the normally bustling city streets. Shop owners are still cleaning the ash and dust off their windows, and everything seems to be a dusty shade of gray. Nothing seems bright anymore, and no one on the streets seems to be happy or cheerful. Instead, everyone’s faces are full of fear and unease. My feet tread the powdery concrete faster as I think about it, seeking the safety of my apartment.

People were killed in that explosion—they say thirty-two were found dead.

The word ‘terrorist’ is still floating around, but the reality is, no one knows who did it or why. And I think that fact has almost scared me more than actually knowing for sure.

I don’t particularly like unknowns.

I like to ask questions and to know facts. Information makes me feel safe, I think. It means I can work with it, devise a plan, and know how to approach something.

Unknowns have too many risks attached.

I narrow my eyes, looking around as I hear a tinkle, bells jingling maybe. It takes me a minute or so to realize the noise is actually coming from me—it’s my cell phone. I dig furiously through my handbag, cursing the fact that I always purchase bags that are far too big and consistently make me feel like freaking Mary Poppins as I search through them looking for keys, or tissues, or like now—my goddamn phone.

“Ah-huh!” I cry out in triumph as I pull it out and quickly hit answer. “Hey, Mama.”

“How’s my girl?” she asks, her voice soft and sweet just like always.

I sigh dramatically as I look both ways down the street, preparing to cross. “I’m good, Mama. Nothing new.”

“How’s work?” This time, I hear the tension in her question.

She knows I don’t like it there. If she and my dad had their way, I’d be running a vet clinic out of their barn. The idea’s not entirely horrible if I’m completely honest with myself, but it’s just not what I want.

My parents raised me to be a hard worker and fight for the things I want. I’d spend hours feeding out hay to the cows and helping Dad fix the fences. I’m not one to sit back and wait for things to be handed to me. And this is my dream, so I want to know that I’ve worked hard to get it.

“Haven’t seen you for a while…” she continues, “… think Nightlight might be pregnant. Want you to come home and check her out when you have time.” Nightlight’s one of our horses.

I bounce excitedly as I cross the road. “Really? That’s awesome!” We haven’t had any foals around home since I was a little girl.

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