Page 28 of A Much Younger Man
I took my jacket off the coat rack. “Let’s go. I’ll tell you on the way.”
“Okay.” We gathered our things and left out the back. I listened for the deadbolt that signaled April had locked up. She’d have turned the alarms on as well.
The parking lot was empty except for April’s car, an older model white Mazda. Because we left from the back of the clinic, I crossed the alleyway to get to Church Street. It was a little less busy. Together, we turned away from the beach for the walk home with Callie sniffing ahead like a scout.
For a while, I forgot the thing I was supposed to tell Beck. Maybe it was the alcohol making my head fuzzy. Maybe I just wanted to forget.
“Three what?” he asked again.
“I euthanized three animals today.” That felt too much like ripping off a Band-Aid. My ex Nick would have been shrill with me if I’d said that to him. He always complained I lacked the finer feelings. Who has time for those?
Beck glanced my way as he stepped over the curb, still graceful despite carrying his backpack and guitar. “You had to though, right?”
“I couldn’t help them anymore, and they were in pain.” I tried to rub the day off my face, but my fingers just irritated my summer-dry skin. “The families decided to let them go.”
“It’s kinder that way, isn’t it?”
“That’s the story I’m sticking with.”
He blinked up at me, his fathomless blue eyes wide and worried. “Isn’t it, though? Better than keeping an animal that’s in pain?”
“How should I know?” I said irritably. I regretted it immediately, but the words just poured out. “It’s not like we can ask them, is it?”
“No,” he said softly. “If only, huh? And if only we let people go when it was their time instead of prolonging lives even when—”
“I didn’t mean to take you back there.”
“Everything takes me back.” Anger clipped his words. “Going forward takes me back.”
“I’m sorry.”
“When my biodad died, it was bad. I really loved him, and it was a work accident. He went quick. My mother had already remarried, and I hardly had time to grieve. Right on the heels of that, Bryce got sick, and I sort of realized it’s not like were on a train heading for a destination. We’re just…made of transition, and the only thing anyone can count on is this one moment right now.” He glanced at Callie. In the streetlight she was nothing more than a glossy shadow, like a seal or an otter, with rich amber eyes. “That’s probably depression talking. Obviously, I don’t see my therapist anymore either.”
“Do you need to? We can make that happen.”
“Don’t be silly. I’m fine.” He hitched his pack to shift the weight.
“Well, I’m still sorry I started us down that road.”
He laughed. “I’ve been travelling that road a long time. That’s why you were drinking. You hate having to put a pet down.”
“I don’t hate it.” In my line of work, hating euthanasia didn’t make any more sense than hating surgery or vaccinations. It was all part of the job, and also, in some cases, the only responsible thing to do. Would Callie forgive me if I had to put her down? Would Beck? Animals in pain are all eyes. They often hide how sick they are. Their stillness is haunting as I push the drugs that relax them enough for me to administer the one that will stop their hearts.
“It’s okay to feelambivalentabout that part of your job.”
“What I hate is standing there like a moron when some adult introduces their child to the concept of death.” I don’t know why I confessed this now. I’d never said the words out loud. “It’s unbearable when children cry.”
Beck reached over and gave my shoulder a squeeze as we walked. He couldn’t have said anything more eloquent than that brief, comforting touch. In fact, if he had spoken, it would have made things worse.
It was his empathy—his quiet kindness—that made him so good with Callie. I liked that about him, and I liked him, despite our age difference. I felt more in tune with him in that moment than I had with anyone in a long time.
“Are you hungry?” I ignored the warning voice in my head.You’re getting too involved. You don’t really know him. Someone his age ought to be off-limits, even as a friend. Especially someone as attractive and wonderful as Beck.It didn’t seem to matter what my brain thought; my heart overrode it. “I have dinner in the Crock-Pot. I planned to make a salad to go with it. There’s plenty for two.”
“I could eat.” He glanced over shyly. “Are you sure you have enough?”
“I always make a ton more than I need and freeze it for lunches.”
“Okay, yeah. Thanks. If you’re sure it’s no trouble.”
