Finding Isadora(77)

“Oh? Yeah, I could see him doing that. Saving the world again. So, you worked your magic and patched the dog up?”

I squeezed my eyes shut, remembering. “I wish. No, there was nothing I could do. The poor creature was too far gone. I had to euthanize her.”

“Ouch.” Since he’d known me, I’d had to euthanize a few animals and he knew how I hated it. “That’s too bad, Iz.” His expression was concerned and he reached out to touch my hand, then pulled back. For a moment his sympathy had made him forget how things stood between us.

“It’s always hard. But it was harder on Gabriel than on me.”

“Oh? He stayed?”

“Yes, he stayed with the dog. Until it was over.”

“He can be good in circumstances like that,” he admitted grudgingly. “I had this gerbil when I was six. Called Ninja, if you can believe it. Anyhow, he died. Old age, natural causes, whatever. I came home from grade one, went to feed him, and found him dead in his cage. I was crying, inconsolable, and Mom didn’t know what to do. She kept saying we’d buy another one, but that wasn’t the point. Ninja wasn’t just a gerbil, he was … a unique personality.”

After almost a year together, he was for the first time telling me about the only pet he’d ever had. What a truly strange day this was.

“I know,” I said softly. “Each animal is unique and special. You can’t replace one with another.”

“I guess Mom would have known that, if she’d really thought about it. But she was panicky, she had a hysterical kid and a dead animal she didn’t want to touch. Anyhow, she called Gabe. And for once he actually came when we needed him. Guess he didn’t have any important clients that day.”

Ignoring the last bitter comment, I prompted, “What did he do?”

Richard closed his eyes briefly, as if to summon the memory. “Took Ninja out of his cage. He didn’t put on gloves like Mom wanted him too, he picked him up and held him. Almost as if he was still alive. Then he held out his hands for me to take him. Mom was saying no, I shouldn’t touch a dead animal, but Gabe stopped her. He told me I should hold Ninja and say goodbye, since I hadn’t had a chance to do it when he was alive.”

I remembered the way Gabriel had stroked Valente’s head as I put her to sleep. “And did you?”

His eyes were soft with remembered grief. “I held Ninja, and Gabe talked to me about death. He said every creature dies, it’s part of how nature works. That it’s sad, but not horrible. Not something to be scared of. Gabe and I went out into the back yard—we were renting a bungalow in Richmond—and he dug a grave and we buried Ninja. He suggested I find a special stone to mark the spot.

“After we were done, I asked Gabe if Ninja was gone forever, or if he was in heaven. He and Mom hadn’t taught me about religion, but I’d heard things from other kids.”

“What did he say?”

“He said no-one knows what happens to animals and people after they die. But the one thing that’s for sure is they live on in the memories of those who remain behind. He told me that as long as I thought of Ninja, some part of him would always be alive.” He gave a crooked smile. “I hadn’t thought of that gerbil in years. But tonight, he’s … kind of alive again.”

I smiled back. “And now I’ve met him, too.”

“You’d have liked him, Iz. He was a feisty little guy.”

Our eyes met across the table, and I felt a pervasive ache of regret. Not because I thought I’d made the wrong decision, but for all that I was giving up. If Richard and I had had kids, I’d have made sure they got a gerbil. Again I had to blink away tears. “Damn.”

“You can say that again.” But his tone was resigned rather than angry now. He made a determined assault on the lamb biryani he’d taken from the buffet, and I sipped cold chai tea.

After a moment I said, “Richard? You have some good memories about how Gabriel was as a father. Not just bad ones.”

He frowned slightly, more in concentration than disagreement. “I suppose.”

“Sounds to me like he cared about you.”

For once, Richard didn’t reject the notion out of hand. “Maybe. In his way.”

“Inadequate is far better than unloving.”

“I guess.” He put down his fork and shoved his plate away. “So, is that the point of tonight?” His voice had taken on an edge. “The lesson I’m supposed to learn? That even if I don’t get the kind of love I want, I should be thankful for a little bit of caring?”

He had posed another unanswerable question. I let it drop between us without responding.

A busboy cleared our plates and brought fresh tea and coffee. When he’d gone, I said, “You had some other news? About Eric?”

Richard’s face brightened. “Right. I think things are going to work out.”

“That’s great. So Caroline Winston approved of you? I can’t even remember if I told you she phoned. She sounded nice.”

“I may have misjudged her. When I saw Eric hanging out in the evening, alone or with that gang, I thought she was neglectful. While it’s true she leaves him alone, it’s only because she needs to work two jobs.”

“Oh? That sounds tough. Where’s Eric’s father?”