Second First Impressions(22)
I finished up, as I always do, at the western edge, where I hung from the chain-link fence with both hands and listened for motorbikes. I probably looked like a prisoner.
As I was brushing my teeth, Teddy still wasn’t back. I felt terrible about my lack of charity, especially to the boss’s son. Like a model Fairy God-Neighbor, I left on the courtyard table a stack of the following items:
? One set of sheets (cloud print)
? One towel and matching bath mat
? One quilt
? One toothbrush (red)
? One roll of toilet paper
? One spare pillow from my bed (how strangely blushworthy)
Like a mom, I say, “Your mattress is queen size. Anyway, have a good day with the Parlonis. I’m sure you’ll do great.” I go to leave.
“Wait. Something bad happened last night when I was walking back from the parking lot. I knocked but you didn’t answer. Were you asleep?” He drags a hand through his hair. It shines like a raven’s wing, blue black, slightly evil, totally beautiful. With a groan, he reaches under the table and brings out a torn Kleenex box. Inside is a golden bonnet tortoise that doesn’t look so great. “I stepped on it, and now you’ll have to fill out a form.”
“I had my headphones on.” After I’d left the bundle of supplies out for him, I’d had a sudden paranoia that he’d interpret it as a love token. I swaddled myself in bed with my laptop and turned up the volume of my Heaven Sent episode. I tried too hard to not hear him return.
“I took it to the after-hours vet clinic, but they only stabilized it with painkillers and told me to find a reptile specialist.” He nudges a lettuce leaf closer to the tortoise’s disinterested face. “The crack it made under my shoe. I still hear it and feel it.”
I’m sure no one has ever felt so rotten about stepping on a tortoise. “I’m sorry, Teddy.” His expression falls. “No, it’s not time to call a priest just yet. We can fix it.”
I’m grateful for the practical task. I get my kit, put on gloves, and we lift the injured tortoise out. It’s a small one, the size of a deck of cards. “Well, it can move all its legs. That’s good.”
“That’s what they said last night. But here.” He indicates the cracked shell. “They’ve put a gel in there to stop infection, but it’s not fixed. They didn’t have the stuff they need. Lucky I live next door to a reptile specialist.”
“I know a couple of things, but I’m not an expert.” I follow the crack and try to visualize the damage, based on past x-rays I’ve seen. “The shell needs to be repaired with resin. Maybe wire for this section.”
“Can you do that?” He’s impressed when I nod. “You really are like a vet. Is that what your goal is? Renata talked over you yesterday in the interview.” He picks up his pen and recommences sketching. The tortoise is coming to life on the page. He runs the pen along, maybe like a tattoo needle, linking lines, filling in texture.
I tell the tortoise, “My childhood dream was to be a vet, once upon a time. But not anymore, obviously. I’m a babysitter. These guys are valuable on the black market, apparently. It’s part of my reason for living on-site.”
“Your setup here looks pretty professional.”
“I just give them a place to rest and recover.” I go to the edge of the low enclosures I’ve put together in the courtyard. “I think number 44 has to go to the Reptile Zoo. We’ll send this one along for an x-ray and they can do the repair. They come through town pretty regularly, and they don’t charge us.”
“Wish I’d known that before I flirted the vet’s receptionist into giving me an account.” He grins at the memory.
I feel a pang, but it also injects a little resin into my heart. This is what he does. I’ve got to keep these Teddy Shields Up. “I know you didn’t get your money’s worth. Sorry I didn’t hear you. I’m not used to having anyone else around.”
He frowns over his tiny victim. “I knew you’d be really disappointed with me for this.” He’s got eyes like a little kid when he looks up, expecting a scolding. “You’ve never stepped on one, I bet.”
“I’ve been walking around these paths in the dark for years now. I’m sure you’ll watch your step.” I take a red lipstick out of my kit. “This one is number 50.”
“You rescue them and let them have a soft landing. I’ve never identified with a tortoise so much in my life.” He picks up his pen and writes a number 50 on the back of his hand. “I don’t think it’s too late for you to be a vet.”
I’m flustered. “I’m just an office assistant. Anyone can do this.” I turn to a fresh sheet and give him the clipboard. “You can do the form. Write his ID on his shell. Before you ask, I’ve tried the label maker, but they don’t stick. Long wear lipstick is perfect.”
He takes the lipstick and initials the shell TJ. “Teddy Junior. Where are you going to put him?”
“Just with the others.”
When it’s time to hand both the creature and the paperwork over, Teddy looks at my outstretched hand like he doesn’t trust me. Now he’s squinting up at the sky, checking for rain. He looks around the courtyard. It’s not good enough for his little prince.