Page 32 of Darling Beasts

“And maybe I shouldn’t care? About finding the ‘best’ place for them? Diane says I’m too picky, and I coddle my symptoms. But what am I going to do? Just let these animals suffer? They didn’t ask to show up in my bedroom.”

“Who’s Diane? Your sister? A therapist?”

A smile snuck out. “Therapist is pretty accurate, but actually Diane’s, uh, a family friend. She was the first one to bring up PBS. If not for her, I don’t know what I would’ve done...” I sniffed. My emotions were getting all backed up, and I was now both rashy and hot. I yanked off my hoodie and tied it around my waist.

“For my first few flares,” I went on, “everyone thought I was making it up. When they were forced to acknowledge I wasn’t in a position to acquire multiple exotic animals, they went into full gaslighting mode.The wolverine is a coincidence, Gabby. They are capable of traveling up to twenty miles per day.” My Dad impression was pretty good, and I was sad Raj couldn’t appreciate it. “That’s when I started getting these.” I lifted the side of my shirt. “A tattoo for each flare.”

Raj stopped. He leaned down to study the symbols. “Those are so cool,” he said, running his finger along them without touching me.

“The wolverine was what prompted it.” I dropped my shirt. “He was my seventh flare, so I had to backdate a few, but it suddenly seemed necessary to establish proof. It’s become a ritual. Makes me feel like I’m paying homage to the animals. Diane thinks it’s ridiculous. Back to the coddling thing again.”

Raj flashed his brilliant white smile. “It makes all the sense in the world.”

We stopped in front of the aviary. I peered up at the sign. GUNN AVIARY. What was the price of putting one’s name on an oversized birdcage, I wondered?

“You coming?” Raj said, holding open the door.

“Oh, yeah, sorry.” I scrambled inside, and the door clapped shut behind us. “I’m envious yours came on as an adult. No one to accuse you of being an attention whore.”

“My parents are great about it,” Raj said, and I felt a pang of envy. “They help me as much as they can, but they don’t have a ton of money and live in a condo themselves. Family is not my problem—”

“Must be nice...”

“Unfortunately, thanks to PBS, I’m currently unemployed.”

Until recently, Raj had been a lawyer with the transit authority. Long story short, his department was invited to a ribbon-cutting ceremony to celebrate the opening of a new trolley station. All the San Diego bigwigs were there—the mayor, city council members, the tribal chairman of the Sycuan Band of the Kumeyaay Nation—but before anyone had a chance to wield the prop scissors, the station was overrun by “skunks.”

People were concerned about terrorism, and maybe they should close the entire transit system? The other lawyers agreed that yes, absolutely, they had to shut it all down. Folks would have a hard time getting to work and school, but the risk wasn’t worth it. Raj knew then he had to confess it was him, not animal terrorism, and was fired on the spot. They got rid of one lawyer but had to hire six more, and a crisis PR team, to deal with the onslaught of lawsuits from attendees and animal rights groups.

“Are they even allowed to fire you, legally?” I asked as we exited the aviary. “PBS isn’t your fault.” Talia would be all over that. She’d send menacing letters to his employer, telling them she’d see them in court.

“I could’ve probably filed something under the ADA. But I felt weird about adding another lawsuit to the ones I’d already created. At least no one was hurt.” Raj exhaled, and I sensed him doing the it-could-be-worse mental gymnastics. I’d been there. “But it wasn’t just the firing. PBS tends to result in a cascade of problems.”

“Oh, I’m familiar with the cascade.” A flare derailed a day, a week, a whole life. You might be interested in someone romantically, until your roommate is disgusted by a mere grackle—one of the better animals, honestly—and your family is like,God, not again, and you remember you are a complete freak, and it’s not worth involving anyone else. Perhaps later, you’re symptomless for a year or two, and wonder, am I finally free of this? Then you find a flaminglet on the mantel and, next thing you know, are living in California under duress.

“I’m looking for a new job,” Raj said, “but can’t ask for a recommendation, and if I don’t find something in the next two or three months, I’ll have to move. What then? Who would rent to an unemployed guy who’s known to harbor pet skunks? Wherever I go has to be affordableandcapable of accommodating up to ten stink badgers at one time.”

“Jesus,” I muttered, counting my lucky stars that I’d always had money and space (and Diane) to handle my flares. But for how much longer would this be true? Dad could fire me. More roofs might fall. My safety net felt thin, and I hated myself for assuming it would hold forever.

“I’m white-knuckling it until everything collapses, I guess.” Raj forced a laugh, and I shriveled into myself. “And that’s the logistical stuff. Do you ever worry about...?” He swallowed. “Finding a romantic relationship?”

“No. Never,” I lied.

“I haven’t dated anyone long-term since I was diagnosed. I seriously need to follow the Stuart model.”

I glanced over, understanding I was supposed to recognizethe name from the message boards. Diane used my log-in, so Raj probably assumed I was on there all the time.

“Come on, you know Stu. He has nonspecific PBS, like yours? He married someone with trimethylaminuria—fish odor disease?”

“Oh, right.” It sounded vaguely familiar. “Well. Good for them,” I said, wondering what he expected me to take from this.

“He’s got it all figured out. Find a woman who gets the complexities of a bizarre condition.”

I wanted to tell Raj to aim a little higher than fish odor, but it wasn’t my place. Anyway, I knew what he meant.

“That’s why the discussion forum is such a godsend,” he added. “It gives me a sense of community and reminds me I’m not alone. Plus, it’s how I met Dr. dos Santos.”

“Oh, yeah. He’s heaven-sent. Love the guy.”

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