Page 10 of Bae

Why did this happen to us? Why was I being punished? Why was the press so brutally indifferent, so calculating and cold about my pain? When would it not hurt so much? When would I get pregnant again? Could I? Why wasn’t I already? If I did… would I have a miscarriage again?

My brain was the internet, and I had one thousand tabs open all the time.

Time passed. I was stronger than the days following the loss. My family was my saving grace, a light in the dark tunnel I sometimes longed to escape into.

Romeo was like a screw drilled into a wall, into the stud behind the wall. An anchor, sturdy and immoveable. He held me up on days I couldn’t stand.

And those first few days after, when both of us were pretty wobbly… he held me even then, as the family closed ranks around us both. Thank God for them all.

I didn’t know why I lost Evie. No one did. The doctors gave us generic statistics and probable cause… I barely listened. What did it really matter anyway? She was gone. The answer wouldn’t bring her back.

But I had a reason. A reason to keep moving, a reason to go on.

No. Not a reason.Reasons.

Romeo. Braeden. Ivy. Trent. Drew. Nova. My shelter. The animals. Romeo. (He’s on the list twice cause he’s the most important.)

The loss of our daughter was immeasurable, yet I still had more than my fair share. Somedays it was hard to feel grateful, but other… other days, I woke in my bedroom and opened my eyes and still felt the same wonder and surprise that this was my life.

That was something.

Romeo was everything.

It might seem strange, but as much of everything as he was to me before… he was more so now.

I felt closer to him than ever, but oddly, further apart.

I didn’t understand, and mostly, I didn’t think about it. I didn’t want to. It was too hard, and there was already enough of that. Instead, I focused on the closeness. The way my heart sometimes beat solely for him.

I focused on his blue eyes and captivating smile.

On the life we shared, the family we had, and I tried not to fixate on what we’d lost. Most days, I was successful. Some days, I was not.

The sister animal shelter we were able to open after the hugely successful fundraiser put together by Valerie and myself was my refuge. Just as the one Michelle still ran across town had been when I was in college.

I loved it there. It was my pet project, my passion, and not a day went by that I ever once regretted foregoing veterinary medicine to stay here and run this shelter. It fulfilled me in so many ways. It made my heart full even on days it felt tattered and echoed with hollows.

This facility was larger than the one I used to practically live in, almost double in size. The building was located off the main road, down a winding side street, and boasted grass all around. The exterior was stone, the rough, uncut kind, the type that looked as if it were pulled straight from the earth. The muted brown and gray shades provided a warm feeling of welcome, which I loved because no shelter should feel cold and clinical.

This was home, albeit hopefully a temporary one, to the animals who stayed here. To the employees who so lovingly and willingly gave their time and care.

The windows were of normal shape and size at the front, trimmed out in white with wooden shutters. Not long after Evie went to heaven, I added flowerboxes to the front windows.

Well, I didn’t add them. Me and tools didn’t go to well together. Romeo hung them, and he did so that warm summer day without a shirt.

Three animals were adopted that day.

I’m pretty sure it wasn’t the flowers I was planting that drew in the people… It was his shirtless, glistening skin. And the fact he waved and winked to every lady who walked up the pathway as he worked.

My husband, forever the charmer. But hey, it was for a good cause.

Anyway, in addition to the flowerboxes, I added potted plants at the front doors and made the place even more homey. Fall brought burnished gold and orange leaves that littered the grass and front walkway. The flowers were no longer cheerful and bright, but gone and waiting for the cold seasons to pass. Instead, there were pumpkins by the front doors, compliments of Ivy and Nova from the day we visited the pumpkin patch.

Side note: if you take Drew to a pumpkin patch, he’s gonna want to drive the tractor that pulls the hayride. And when the man who’s supposed to be driving recognizes Drew astheDrew who drives for the NRR, he’s going to let him have the driver’s seat. Tractors are not racecars… Someone needs to tell Drew. Well, wait, we all told him… at high volumes as he plowed through the corn fields with our wagon full of hay attached. If we had our pumpkins already, they would have been pie. Needless to say, Drew didn’t drive us back to the barn.

Just inside the wide front doors was the open, welcoming reception area. Its tiled floors actually looked like real wood—all the pretty without the maintenance. The walls were painted a neutral shade of almond, and the windows were framed out with dark wood trim.

In the center of the room was the front desk. The front was done in stone the same colors as outside. It rose up to meet wide, granite counters, with the highest section being in the center, then a lower section on each side. Behind the desk, the wall was painted a shade of eggplant, the shelter’s logo in the center in white.

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