Room-maid(79)

We both accidentally made out with each other; we were both now standing in the middle of a school gym with him holding me tight . . . yes, this was going very well so far. I settled on saying, “It is!”

He nodded toward the quartet. “It seems to me that you still owe me a dance. Are newly hired teachers allowed to dance?”

“That depends. Are roommates allowed to ask?”

“I say yes.”

Then we were swaying gently to the music, even though I could feel almost every gaze in the room on us because the event hadn’t even started yet and we were the only ones dancing. I didn’t care who looked. It was probably a good thing that he’d collected on his dance here, in public, rather than in the privacy of our apartment, where I might be more apt to do something inappropriate. Like confess my undying love or try to make out with him.

Instead I listened to the music, trying to quell my raging heartbeat, my tingling skin. I thought about the lyrics and how I wouldn’t be home for Christmas.

But maybe that was okay. Maybe I’d found a new home.



A few nights later, we went out to a Turkish restaurant for dinner. School had ended for the semester and winter break had begun. We were only a few days away from Christmas. We’d been chatting about our holiday plans when we discovered that neither one of us had any. He let slip that his mom hadn’t even invited him home for Christmas. I told him mine hadn’t, either.

The check came and he wouldn’t let me pay for my half. Then again I didn’t really put up much of a fight. After he handed the waitress his credit card, he said, “So our plans—I propose that we resolve to hang out during the break and eat too much junk food and watch too much reality television and then we’ll get back to working on being cultured when our vacation is done. What do you say?”

“I’m definitely in.”

Then he fist-bumped me. It was kind of humiliating to be fist-bumped by the guy you were in love with.

When we got home that night, Pigeon wasn’t waiting for us in the foyer, which seemed odd.

“Do you hear that?” I asked. It sounded like whimpering.

Tyler nodded and we followed the sound. Pigeon was curled up in Tyler’s bathroom. He called her name, but she didn’t move. She didn’t even lift her head.

Exchanging glances, we both rushed to her side and crouched down next to her.

“What’s the matter, girl?” he asked, reaching for her. When he put his hand on her back, she yelped, loudly.

There was fear and despair in his eyes. I’d never seen Pigeon act this way, and apparently, neither had he.

“We have to take her to an animal hospital,” he said. “Can you drive?”

I nodded while he carefully, so carefully, put his arms under Pigeon and lifted her up. She yelped again, but this was the only way to help her. I tried talking to her soothingly, but the whimpering only got louder. Hurrying out to the car, I opened the passenger door so he could get in and hold Pigeon on the way to the hospital.

He navigated me there, and I dropped him off in the front so I could find a place to park. After finding an empty spot, I ran toward the hospital, praying with each breath that she would be fine. I didn’t know how Tyler would take it if something happened to Pigeon.

I didn’t know how I would take it.

As I pulled open the doors, I saw Tyler and Pigeon in one of the examination rooms. She was lying on the counter, still crying and shaking. He was trying to calm her without petting her since touching her seemed to make it worse.

A nurse came into the room and asked what was going on. We tumbled over each other, trying to explain her symptoms and reactions.

The nurse nodded, listening. She tenderly touched Pigeon’s back, and there was more yelping. “Let me go get the doctor.”

She returned a couple of minutes later with the veterinarian in tow. He examined Pigeon, and came to a stop when she cried out again.

“Obviously she’s in a lot of pain,” the vet said, “and we’re going to give her some pain medications so that we can run some more tests. This could be just about anything—a slipped disc, a pinched nerve, muscle pain. It’ll take us a little while to check her out, do some blood work, maybe an X-ray. Given how late it is, why don’t you leave her here and we will call you just as soon as we know what’s going on?”

Neither one of us wanted to leave, but we weren’t given the option to stay. I drove Tyler home with him speaking only to tell me which turn to take until I got to familiar territory.

We walked out of the garage, into the lobby, and into the elevator without talking. Part of me thought we should just go to bed, try to get some sleep. My hope was that she was fine, that this was something simple and she’d be okay. My fear was that something was really wrong with her and I didn’t want to face what it would be like to lose her.

Tyler went into the living room and collapsed on the couch and I followed him. “Do you want to watch some TV while we wait? It will take our minds off things.” It was the only way I could think to comfort him. Distract him.

He looked at me bleary eyed and for a moment I thought he would say no. Instead he just nodded and I picked up the remote.

Just as I got the TV turned on, his phone rang. He grabbed for it and I muted the television. Could it be the hospital calling us already?

“Uh-huh. I see. Send me the information.” He hung up.