Page 80 of Doc Showmance
“That’s awful.” His eyebrows drew together in a pained look.
“I’ve never felt more helpless at any other moment in my life than when I held him and watched life bleed out of him. What’s the hardest is he was scared at those last moments, like some of the animals we put down. But I think he was glad not to be alone. To be with someone who loved him.” I wiped at the bleariness of my eyes and scrutinized the ceiling of the car as if that would stop the tears. “I don’t know why I told you that. I guess I think you’d understand since we put down a lot of pets. Some people have a strong bond with their pets, a connection they share that I see in the last moments when the pet is happy not to be alone. As vets, we’re good at walling off that emotion at work so we can get through wildly emotional moments like a euthanasia. But to watch someone you love die and have nothing you can do to stop it leaves more than a hole in your soul.” I swallowed. Doing good. Not crying. “We remember Jamal. Every year on this day. Like all families do for those who died. No one else cared about his death. We did. I did.”
“I know no other families who mourn their lost members on the day of their death every year like this, with a ceremony at the gravesite.”
“We don’t mourn him. We celebrate his life. There’s comfort in knowing if something happens to me tomorrow that I wouldn’t be forgotten. That my death would serve as a way for my siblings to not only remember me, but also celebrate their own gift of still having life. They’d do a remembrance for me, too.”
“I like that.”
I noticed the strain and sadness he kept hidden from the world in the lines around his eyes. I clasped his hand between both of mine. “Your family was terrible. They don’t behave like a family should, which is something everyone needs. Maybe my concept of family is warped since it’s based on what I’ve seen on TV and movies. We’re all complicated disasters trying to navigate the mess of life. We need a group of people we know will accept us for what we are, flaws and all.”
“I don’t need my family.”
“No, you don’t. You’ve outgrown them and their pettiness. But everyone needs someone they can rely on, especially in the bad moments. I want you to consider yourself a part of my family. That means no matter what happens between us, if this is a fling and we move on to find other people now or later, or we go back to hating each other. Know that you will always have this family…us. If you find yourself alone at a holiday, come to our house. There’s always a place for you at the table. There’s always a bed or a sofa in our house if you need to spend a few days putting your life back together.”
“I don’t know what to say. That’s too generous.”
“It feels weird. I get that. We’re not blood related, but I consider you family. You should come to Christmas with us this year no matter what shitfest Marianna puts us through in the next few weeks. I like doing stockings for everyone. It’s one of my things. We’re weird. We’re dysfunctional as hell, but we’re family. We make up for our craziness by knowing how to drink. I don’t usually get as drunk as I did on Thursday. I’m sorry about that. Between your family, the event, and you with that Maya girl’s hands on you…”
“You were jealous?”
“Uh, yeah.”
He lifted my hands to his mouth and kissed them. “She’s got nothing on you.”
“You’re still a dillweed seventy-five percent of the time.”
“That’s twenty-five percent of the time I’m not. I’m improving.” He grinned.
I bit my lip against a smile. “There’s a good soul inside that chest of yours, not that I know how it survived those people who raised you. Being a part of a family like mine is serious business. It means if Bruno or me or Joley call you at two a.m. and need help burying a body, you tell us you’re putting the shovel in the trunk and won’t ask questions. Now, Marino? Him, you might want to ask a few questions first. If he gambles again, you have my permission to break his nose before helping him.”
“I got your back, Amber.”
“I know. You always have. Even when we were at each other’s throats. We always agreed the patient came first. Doing the right thing was important. Remember that time we got stuck on the same team for the live dog spay at the shelter? Our first official surgery? I picked at you for your shit catheter skills. You were sniping at me about prepping the dog all wrong. Not that either of us had done anything wrong. We were newbies practicing our skills.”
“But your shaving skills were atrocious. Crooked. Streaks of hair.” He smiled.
I whacked him in the arm. “If you’ve noticed, I don’t do any of my own surgical prep now.” I stared out the window up the hill I’d need to walk. “You pushed me to be better. I worked harder and tried to become the best I could because of you. I think that’s what made me the way I am now.”
“You’re a badass at what you do.”
“Thanks.” I squeezed his hand for a few seconds and let go. “You’re not too bad yourself.” I squinted into the sun outside. “I’ve got to go do this.”
“You want me to go, too?”
I shook my head. “That’d be weird.” I watched the breeze ruffle the trees. “Might take about twenty minutes. I don’t know. You don’t have to stay. I can catch a ride. We’re going to toast a few beers and have a few donuts. We’ll tell a few stories. Then go.”
“I’ll wait.” As I unbuckled and opened the door Ian caught my hand. “Hey, Amber. Thanks.”
“For what?”
“Doing Thanksgiving. Telling Brock no.”
“As if I’d ever consider anything with a pigheaded asshole like that?”
“Exactly. I’m glad you’re you.”
“Stop it. You’re going to embarrass me.” I rocked my head. “Too late. You already did. But, sure, I’m amazing. I know.”
