Think Twice

Bennie pummeled the bright little hole, over and over again. The animal’s constant scratching had thinned the wood around it, and the lid was splintering along the crack. She picked at the edges of the hole with her fingers, then she bashed the wood until painstakingly, excruciatingly, and infinitesimally, she was widening the hole, its golden circle like her own personal sun.

It was the size of a dime, and she was aiming for a quarter, and so she kept going. She had to finish before the animal came back. Her face was soaked with sweat, perspiration drenched her entire body, and though she could breathe, the air in the box had grown hotter. She hit harder, and suddenly, something fell through it onto her face. She blinked and shook it off, reflexively. It felt like dirt, and then she understood.

I’m buried alive.

She forced herself not to panic. She started pounding again, but her hands were bloody and every blow hurt, so she hooked her hand inside the neck of her cotton shirt and yanked hard. It tore the shirt down the front, and she wrenched the fabric back and forth to rip it to the bottom, ending up with a bandage, of sorts. She wrapped it around her right hand, pressing it into the open wound with her chin. The pain brought tears to her eyes, but she got back to work, pounding and picking.

She stayed strong thinking of Grady. If she got out of this alive, she would call him and tell him that he was more important than work, more important than anything. That she thought about him every day, he was always in the back of her mind, and that she had called his office once and hung up, like a teenager. She’d even Googled him to see what cases he was working on, she’d read his articles and briefs online. She would beg him back.

She stuck her finger through the hole to keep widening it, grabbing the edge and wiggling it up and down to break off more and more pieces of wood. There was no other way to keep going, and she hit the lid again and again with her bandaged hand, powered by the sheer will to live.

And the memory of a love she’d left behind.

Chapter Thirty-six

“Hi, I’m Bennie Rosato, here about my dog, Bear.” Alice stood at the reception window, with Grady, and the vet student behind the plastic shield was different from last night’s. He looked young, with a tiny black goatee and a neck tattoo of a bar code, which Alice guessed passed for a bad boy, among graduate students.

“Hold on, are you the Bennie Rosato?” he asked, his dark eyes lighting up. “My girlfriend’s at the law school, and she took your class in appellate advocacy last year. She loved you. Her name’s Sherry Quatriere. Do you remember her?”

“Lemme think a minute.”

“Dark hair? Dreadlocks? She’s Jamaican.”

“Of course. Sherry. Give her my love.”

“I’ll tell her, she’ll be so excited. Let me go check on your doggie.” The vet student jumped up. “Why don’t you take a seat over there?”

“Thanks.” Alice turned, and she and Grady walked over to the waiting area, which was empty except for a lady with a plastic cat carrier on her lap. They sat down in the plastic bucket seats next to a wall of memorial plaques in honor of dogs and cats, which proved to Alice that there really was a sucker born every minute.

Grady saw her looking at them. “Don’t read them. They’ll make you sad.”

“I know.” What a waste of money.

“I’ve been thinking, I was supposed to leave tonight, but I’d like to stick around for a couple of days. Between Bear and Alice coming back into your life, what kind of boyfriend would I be if I blew out of town?”

No! “But don’t you have to be somewhere?”

“I have a deal tomorrow in Pittsburgh, an employee buyout of some trade magazines, but I could get my partner to fill in. I’ll tell him it’s a family emergency. As far as my other matters, I have my laptop and I can work anywhere. Set me up in an office at the firm, I’ll be fine.”

Alice remembered that saying about keeping your enemies closer, then looked at him with grateful eyes. “Would you really do that, for me?”

“Of course.” Grady leaned over and kissed her gently on the cheek, then there was a noise to the left as the EMPLOYEES ONLY doors banged open. A vet emerged and walked toward them, carrying a clipboard. His expression was serious, and Alice’s hopes soared.

“How is he?” she asked, rising, and so did Grady, slipping his arm around her shoulder.

“Please.” The vet waved them into their seats. “Please. Sit.”

Bad news! Alice sank into her seat with Grady’s arm around her.

“He has a hematoma on his spleen, a result of his fall. It didn’t show up on the X-ray but it did on the ultrasound. We can do surgery, but there can be serious complications, especially in a dog his age. I can’t say for sure that he’ll survive it, and the surgery is expensive. It could cost between three and five thousand dollars.”

Hell, no. Gas him now. If you don’t, I will. Got a hose?

“Our records show that you don’t have any insurance. I don’t know if you want to put him through that, or if you want to undertake that kind of expense.” The vet faced Alice, all earnest. “You can let him go, or see him through the surgery and hope for a good result, though the odds are very low. It’s a difficult decision.”

It’s a no-brainer. Alice acted like she was bravely holding back tears, and Grady leaned over to the vet.

“Doc, what would you do, in our position?”

“People always ask us that.” The vet smiled sadly. “Bear isn’t my dog, but I know how much you love him. Any decision you make will be the right one, because there are no wrong answers.”

Done deal. Alice was about to give the mutt the thumbs-down.

Grady asked, “Can we see him?”

“Of course, and if you do decide to put him down, you can be with him.”

Complete waste of ten minutes.

The vet led them out of the waiting room, through the doors, and into a huge room filled with examination tables, medical equipment, and vets in white coats and green scrubs, attending to animals in cages on three sides.

“Where is he?” Grady asked, and Alice hung back, playing the bereaved mother.

“Here.” The vet pointed to one of the large cages on the bottom, where Bear lay on a white blanket. His eyes were closed, and a plastic tube snaked from his front leg out of the cage to a bottle attached to the bars. He looked half-dead, and Alice felt like celebrating.

“Poor guy.” Grady crossed to the cage and knelt down.

“I know.” Alice stood behind him and tried to tear up-$5,000, $5,000 $5,000. In the next minute, her eyes were wet.

“Bear?” Grady called softly, and the dog raised his head slowly, and looked up at them. Then, all of a sudden, he freaked out, barking in fear and trying to get up. His back legs scissored, and his front clawed the blanket, yanking out the IV tube.

Alice knew he was reacting to her, but Grady leapt to his feet, flustered as the vet tried to calm the frantic dog, and two vet techs rushed over to help.

“Grady, back off,” Alice said. “He doesn’t remember you. You’re upsetting him. Let’s get you out of here.” She took Grady’s arm and hurried him through the double doors to the waiting room.

“I’m so sorry.” Flushed, Grady raked his hair back with his hands. “I thought he would know me. He did last night.”

“Last night he was barely conscious. Don’t feel bad. Maybe it’s the drugs they gave him.”

“No, it was me.” Grady pouted like a little boy, and Alice wished she could kiss him right there, tongue included.

“It wasn’t your fault.”

“Yes, it was. I shouldn’t have gone in. He didn’t look good at all, did he?”

“He looked awful.” Alice blinked away her bogus tears.

“He seems even older than yesterday, if that’s possible. How old is he?”