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I take a deep breath and sit beside him on the uncomfortable waiting room chairs. Closing my eyes, I lean my head on his shoulder, cuddling deeper into his side when he wraps an arm around me.
Just as I begin to settle, as my breathing begins to slow, I hear a man’s voice: “Ginger Quinn’s parents?”
I rise to my feet so fast, I stumble a little. As usual, Will is there to catch me. He slips his fingers between mine and leads me to the front desk where a James Bailey lookalike in scrubs with a clipboard waits for us.
“Are you Mr and Mrs Quinn?” He asks, a sympathetic smile on his face.
I blush a deep crimson. “N-No.”
Will looks mighty uncomfortableas he explains: “We’re not together. It’s her cat.”
Ouch. Just what I needed right now.
“Right.” The vet turns to face me and sticks his hand out. “I’m Dr. Sloane. I’m your cat’s vet. We’ve already checked her out in the back, and I know you spoke to our triage nurse already, but would you mind stepping inside this room with me for a chat?”
I swallow and nod, following the doctor into a small room off the side of the front desk with Will in tow. Once inside, I explain how she’s been lethargic, how she hasn’t wanted to eat or drink much in the past 24 hours.
“Not even those gross cat GoGurts that they make that she’s so obsessed with.”
Will gasps at my side, because he’s gotten to know Ginger well by now and knows just how much she loves them.
“Have you noticed her go into the kitty litter often but not produce any urine or poop?”
“No. I work all day and haven’t been home to notice so—” The words get caught in my throat as I realize what a horrible mother I am, leaving my cat behind without supervision. “God, I fucked up.” I put my head in my hands and try to calm down. I feel a hand on my shoulder, but I don’t need to have my eyes open to realize it isn’t Will.
I slowly raise my head to look at the vet, whose eyes have grown soft. “It’s going to be okay, I promise.”
I turn to look at Will for some reassurance from him as well, but find him a bit too preoccupied. Distracted by the hand currently on my shoulder. It’s as if he were doing everything possible to invoke any kind of superpower that could incinerate Dr. Sloane’s hand off my body without hurting me.
Honestly, if I weren’t so upset, I’d probably find it hot.
“So there’s nothing wrong with Ginger? She’s going to be okay?” The hope in my voice is dangerous, I realize, when the doctor’s smile slips.
“She will be. But she has a urinary blockage. A pretty bad one and quite rare in female cats. But then again, I get the feeling your cat is unique.” He tries for a smile, and I want to make a comment about her being part of the small percentage of female cats who are ginger, but can’t bring myself to.
“If we don’t operate now to drain the bladder and do a urine sample to find out what’s going on, something bad could happen.”
I gasp, my heart in a sprint. “Okay. Yeah.Yes. Whatever you need to do, we’ll do it.”
“Good. I just need to warn you before we proceed with anything of how much everything will cost. But you have pet insurance, correct?”
For the second time today, my heart sinks with fear.
“I—I only just got health insurance formyselfa few months ago…” I admit, starting to cry again. “And that was through my job.”
His face twists in worry, and he drops his hand from my shoulder, which is fine by me because it frees me to lean into Will’s chest. He wraps an arm around my waist, and asks the doctor for an estimate.
“All in all, it could be anywhere between eight- to twelve-thousand dollars.”
“Americandollars?Humandollars?” I practically wail.
“This is just an estimate, though. It could be less.”
“It could also be more?”
He swallows and nods. I try not to cry even harder. I don’t have the money, but Ginger is the most important thing in my life right now, and I’ll do anything for her. Even if I have to sell a kidney.
Will tightens his grip on me before he begins rubbing soothing circles on my back. “Do you offer payment plans or…?” he asks. And thank god for him, for his ability to keep a cool head.
