Wednesday Walks & Wags. Melissa Storm

      Chapter 8

      Bridget and Wesley ran in comfortable silence every evening that week and the one that followed it, too. And with each run, Bridget’s legs ached a little less, her breathing came a little easier.

      While she found the progress exhilarating, it also meant that she had an easier time keeping up an internal monologue while engaging in what was supposed to be her escape.

      “What do you do when it starts getting too easy?” she asked Wesley one day as they approached the end of their route.

      “You’re not there yet.” He smiled and shook his head, both of which he did much more often now that they had started to grow comfortable with each other. Comfortable, but not friendly. Just the way each of them liked it.

      “I think I am. I mean, I can talk now.” She paused to take a deep breath. “And think, too.”

      He slowed so that Bridget could fall into step beside him. “Is thinking a bad thing?”

      “Sometimes.”

      Wesley nodded but remained quiet until they reached the courtyard once more.

      When they were already partway through their post-run stretches, he spoke again. “You can never run away from what’s in your own head,” he offered cryptically. “Although sometimes I think it’s worth trying.”

      And with that, he and his dogs retreated to their apartment, leaving Bridget alone with the same thoughts she’d been hoping to escape. More than seven months had passed since she’d buried her mother. Why was the grief still so fresh and new?

      She’d hurled herself into one project after the next in a desperate attempt to keep herself busy—and like running, they all worked at first. Then the newness would wear off and her pain would surge again, a tidal wave that had only gained strength from its temporary damming.

      In another few months, she’d resume her college studies. She’d already signed up for the maximum course credits allowed. College would keep her busy, especially since she planned to receive perfect grades. But would it distract her long enough to finally forget what she had lost?

      Bridget doubted it. Still, she could only keep hoping, keep trying, because the alternative . . .

      Life required hope, and in that way, success was oddly counterproductive for Bridget. Achieving the object of her desire would also remove it as a coping mechanism. And what then?

      * * *

      Independence Day passed rather uneventfully with a simple barbecue at her father’s. Caleb insisted on playing the role of grill master, but proceeded to burn everything he touched. In the end, they filled up on seedless watermelon and potato chips. While their first holiday without her mother had proved to be every bit as sad as she’d feared, at least it had provided a break in the monotony of what had become her life.

      The next day at work further shone a spotlight on all her problems.

      She’d almost made it to the end of her shift when Dr. Kate called her in to assist in talking to a distraught pet owner. The fact that she’d chosen Bridget for this task undoubtedly meant the owner and Bridget had something important in common, and Bridget feared she knew exactly what that might be.

      Please don’t be cancer. Please don’t be cancer, Bridget prayed silently as she stepped into the cheerfully painted exam room.

      The woman waiting there appeared to be in her late twenties—hardly older than Bridget herself—and her flame-red hair was matched only by the ruddiness of her tear-streaked cheeks. A scared cat hid beneath her chair, shrinking as close to the wall as it could possibly get without disappearing into it.

      “This is one of our vet techs, Bridget,” Dr. Kate said softly. “Bridget, this is Samantha. We just found out that her cat, Brownie, has late-stage cancer. She’s having a really hard time taking the news.”

      Bridget nodded solemnly; her prayers had gone unanswered for today at least. Apparently, she’d become the cancer expert since the disease had claimed someone special to her. But didn’t Dr. Kate understand that it had made her fear the disease that much more?

      “I’m so sorry about Brownie,” Bridget said, unable to hold back a sniffle. “News like that is never easy.”

      Samantha twisted a tissue in her hands and glanced up at Bridget. Seeming to see the ally she needed, she asked, “Am I a bad person for wanting to keep him with me as long as possible?”

      “Not at all. We all want to keep the people and animals we love close to us for as long as we possibly can.” Bridget thought of her mother’s box, sealed up tight and buried inside her closet. A constant reminder of what she’d lost. A Pandora’s box of grief.

      At least she had the box to contain some of her sorrow. Not all the pain had escaped into her world. Not yet.

      The woman before her, though, looked as if she might never smile again. “I’ve had Brownie since I was eight years old. She’s turning twenty in just a few months. I knew she couldn’t live forever, but I’m also not ready to say goodbye.”

      Dr. Kate cut in here. “I’ve suggested that she consider putting him down gently. He’s already in a good deal of pain, and it’s just going to get worse. Unfortunately, at his advanced age, there’s very little chance of his surviving a surgery, and even if he did, it would prolong his life by only months at best.”

      Why had Dr. Kate forced her into this, especially when her advice was so grim?

      Bridget wanted to be a good employee, wanted to second her boss’s advice, but she just couldn’t. Not when it came to something like this. “I lost my mom about five months ago. She had cancer, too. And you know what? I would give anything for just one more day with her.”

      Samantha smiled up at her, hope lighting her eyes.

      “Can we prescribe a painkiller to help keep Brownie comfortable?” Bridget asked the doctor. Suddenly, it became very important that she not lose Brownie. Even though she could barely see the cat in its hiding spot, she needed to save him, save Samantha the pain of this horrible disease that only took and took and never gave.

      It was Samantha who answered. “There is, but I can’t afford it. I live paycheck to paycheck as it is and had to eat ramen for a month to even be able to afford this appointment.”

      “I’ll pay for it,” Bridget promised without giving it a second thought. Of course, she didn’t have any money to spare, either, not with her increased cost of rent and school resuming in the fall. But she could get another credit card or borrow money from her dad or even start a GoFundMe. Anything to give Brownie and Samantha some more time with each other. The way she wished she’d had more time with her mom.

      “That would be amazing, but are you sure?” Samantha stopped crying and blinked up at Bridget in hopeful disbelief.

      Bridget stooped down and wrapped her arms around the other woman, even more certain now than she had been just a few seconds before. “Positive.”

      Dr. Kate shook her head in silence, but Samantha’s entire demeanor brightened. “Thank you, thank you! You’re our guardian angel,” she cried, rising from her chair and hurtling herself into Bridget’s open arms.

      It felt so good to help, even if it was only for a little while, even if it would mean that she, too, would be eating ramen all month. The two of them exchanged phone numbers and promised to stay in touch.

      And all the rest of that day, Bridget did feel a little better.

      Even though she couldn’t help herself, at least