Such a Bad Influence: A Novel, page 27
Her puffy, red eyes widened. For Alex, trust had to be earned. She’d never give it away lightly. She’d learned to rely on herself, her instincts, her survival mechanisms—and trusting another person contradicted her life experience. Had I done enough over the past three months to chip away at the distrust in her heart?
Her lower lip quivered as she searched my face. If all my suffering, all my loneliness and despair, had led me to this moment to ensure Alex stayed, then the pain was worth it. She’d regret leaving and not believing in Juno’s strength—in her strength.
“Don’t run,” I whispered.
Tears dropped onto her cheeks, but slowly her hand, as if she was still deciding, moved toward mine. Come on, Alex, I thought, not daring to breathe. Come on.
When our palms touched, the tension in my chest unraveled. The earth, which seemed to have shaken for years, snapped into place beneath me.
Without a word, I led her from the waiting room, unsure what fate would greet us on the other side but knowing we were strong enough to face it.
Forty
“Careful, Wade,” I said, knowing he would be, but feeling so overwhelmed with concern that I reminded him anyway. I’d driven his truck at five miles per hour from the vet’s office to the house, unwilling to risk hitting any bumps or potholes. We had precious cargo with us, after all.
Gently, Wade scooped Juno into his arms and lifted her from the truck. “That’s my good girl,” he said softly, cradling her against his chest. She looked so small. The pain medication made her groggy, and for the first time, her tail didn’t wag when she entered my house.
“I’ve got everything set up in the living room.” I pointed toward the spot where the coffee table used to sit. “Careful, Wade. Watch the couch.”
“I’m being careful, Felicity. Jeez.” His words had no bite, not when he’d been up all night with Juno after her surgery. He’d sat in a chair, never leaving her sight. He’d been unable to leave her even when Sean said pet owners couldn’t stay at the vet office overnight. Wade had ignored him, and when Sean opened his mouth to insist, I’d said, “As long as Juno’s here, one of us will be, too.” I’d pointed to the floor for added emphasis. “If you have a problem with that, you’ll have to call the police and have us escorted out in handcuffs.”
Sean had muttered under his breath about insurance liabilities, but acquiesced all the same.
I maneuvered around the couch to supervise Wade as he set Juno on her bed.
My morning had been busy, a welcome distraction from the anxiousness that made my hands shake. I’d picked up all of Juno’s prescriptions and her new dog food, then went to Wade’s house to grab her water bowl; her favorite stuffed toy, which she enjoyed tearing apart only for me to sew it back together; and her bed, which I washed. Twice. Wade probably did laundry every couple of months, and I worried about bacteria accumulating on the fabric.
Another reason I’d insisted on Juno recovering at my house.
Wade kneeled next to Juno, scratching her head inside the plastic cone around her neck. Her eyes blinked slowly, but other than that, she didn’t move. My poor baby, I thought, tears pricking at my eyes.
“She gets pain meds every four hours,” I said, not letting myself dwell on anything negative. I had to keep moving or my mental state would collapse, and then I’d be no good to anybody. “Those are in this bottle.” I held up the orange container. “Her antibiotics, which she gets twice a day with food, are in this bottle.” The pills rattled when I showed him. “I’ve got water in her bowl, and food ready as soon as she shows the slightest interest in eating. Sean said we should try to get her to eat by this evening. Her stomach may get upset, so I also have towels and cleaning wipes in case she gets sick.” I’d arranged all of Juno’s recovery items on the table, placing things that we needed to use frequently near the front. “Here’s her stuffie,” I added, letting Wade put the elephant beside her.
Wade rubbed his forehead. “Is there anything you didn’t get?”
“No.” My preparation had been more thorough than a skydiver packing a parachute. I’d thought of everything. No stone had been left unturned or expense spared. I’d even programmed all the emergency numbers into my phone. “I bought enough food to last us a week, so we don’t need to leave the house.”
“And Alex?”
My confidence crumbled. I didn’t have that situation under control. Not yet. “She hasn’t left her room since I brought her home last night.” She’d exited the truck, then walked straight into her bedroom and slammed the door. All my attempts to coax her out had been in vain. Between Juno and Alex, we had our hands full.
“I’ll make us something to eat.” I stood, the restlessness in my legs overcoming the relief of Juno being home. “You should take a nap before you keel over.” I lifted the blanket from the chair and set it on the couch. Someone needed to be with Juno at all times, not only to watch for signs of medical complications, but also because dogs preferred to die alone.
Don’t think about that, I chastised myself before departing for the kitchen. Keep it together. Only positive thoughts.
If I allowed any darkness to linger, the hopeful spell I’d woven around my heart would break. The storm writhing inside me would strike land, consuming my thoughts. What if Juno doesn’t make it? What if she never walks again? What if Alex never forgives herself?
Cars whipped around that corner without a backward glance all the time. This incident could’ve happened to anyone. But it would be impossible to convince Alex of that.
What if her life turns out like mine?
Panic clawed at the barrier between my thoughts and my emotions. I couldn’t breathe.
Half swallowed by the storm, I gripped the counter until my knuckles turned white. No matter what, I couldn’t fall apart—not now. Not when they needed me most.
“She’ll be okay,” I whispered to myself. “It will all be okay.”
Wade snored softly on the couch as I made lunch. Pots and pans clattered, sounds that would’ve usually driven Alex from her room only so she could tell me to quiet down. But her door remained firmly closed.
Cooking kept me busy, so I made grilled cheese sandwiches with three different kinds of cheese (using butter to toast the bread), chicken wraps with bacon and ranch dressing, macaroni salad, potato wedges, and, for dessert, blueberry muffins with a generous helping of sugar on top. The cooking only stopped once I’d used all the mixing bowls and had to wash them.
With the smell of blueberries floating through the house, I opened the windows and pinned back the curtains. Light and fresh air worked miracles. For too long, I’d shut myself in a dark, closed-off house, and my mental and physical health had suffered for it.
Despite the tense situation, when Wade entered the kitchen after his nap, I smiled at his hair sticking up in every direction. Exhaustion made his face look boyish, a side of him I’d never really seen. Because even in high school, his height and broad shoulders had made him seem like an adult.
He rubbed his shoulder as he looked me over. I’d showered, dressed, and put on waterproof mascara. I was ready.
“Coffee, water, soda, or orange juice?” I had all the options poured and waiting.
“Surprise me.”
I set the orange juice in front of him. Vitamin C seemed like an important thing. He eyed the counter with curiosity as he took a drink.
“Did you cook all of that while I was sleeping?”
“I didn’t know what you’d want.”
“I’ll eat pretty much anything.” He took another sip. “Give me whatever you don’t want. I’m not that hungry anyway.”
I set a grilled cheese sandwich on a plate but caught sight of the clock on the microwave. Alex needed rest, but her continued absence had me on edge. I knocked on her door. “Alex? Alex, it’s time for lunch.” I knocked again, then put my ear to the door, hearing nothing on the other side. “I made those chicken wraps you like.”
No answer.
Back in the kitchen, Wade had stacked three sandwiches on his plate. So much for not being hungry.
“She hasn’t come out of her room all day.” I claimed the seat across from him. “She never misses a meal.” Before living with me, she’d never had chicken paprikash, or perogies, or corned beef. The sauerkraut balls had been a big swing and a miss, but for the most part, she loved my cooking, and I loved sharing those meals with her.
Sadness must’ve shown on my face, because Wade set down his sandwich. “Give her time. She’s not a big talker.”
He had a point. No one would call Alex verbose, and she’d hate to lean on anyone for help. But I thought we’d moved past some of her emotionally withdrawn tendencies. After her second arrest, she’d told me the truth about her birth mother, an immense moment in our friendship. Then she’d trusted me at the vet’s office with Juno. I’d never forget her big, tearful eyes searching mine for help, and the relief I’d felt once she stayed to tough out the situation.
Why shut me out now? All I wanted to do was help.
Wade lifted the sandwich to his mouth, then paused. “You got any chips?”
I wanted to say no, that putting those crunchy potatoes on my perfect, delicious, gooey-yet-crispy grilled cheese sandwich was an affront to me, my family, and this house, but I’d prepared for everything—even Wade’s frat-boy taste buds.
“In the cupboard next to the fridge.”
“Perfect.”
Alex never would’ve desecrated my cooking with potato chips; my best friend had much better taste. My eyes floated to her bedroom door. Half of me wanted to tell Wade to take the door down, but the other half knew that pushing Alex never ended well—for anybody.
She needs to come out on her own. Until then, all I could do was wait.
Forty-One
The four of us settled into a routine over the next several days. Despite Edith, Mary, Lauren, and Sam dropping off baked goods, cards, and dog treats, I continued to anxiously cook enough food for ten people. Wade slept on the couch, watching over Juno and eating whatever I put in front of him. As Juno grew stronger and after Sean had said we were out of the woods, Wade started complaining that my ancient television didn’t get cable. Apparently, he needed three different ESPN channels, at a minimum. I forgave his gripes after he fixed the broken porch spindle, glad he didn’t ask how it had snapped.
Alex remained in her room, door shut, not speaking. Other than using the bathroom or snatching the food I left outside her door, she stayed away from us, unwilling to talk even when Wade’s nieces came over with hand-decorated Get Well, Juno cards, which we set near her dog bed.
Juno had licked Kate’s hand, but other than that, she didn’t move.
Four days after the accident, after going upstairs to change into my pajamas—the flannel ones that were two sizes too big and comfy as hell (I’d moved beyond trying to impress Wade with my sleepwear)—I found Wade on the phone in the living room.
A female voice came through the phone, then Wade, upon seeing me, quickly said, “I have to go.” He ended the call.
The tension in his voice made me appraise Juno, who lounged on her bed, head leaning on the stuffed elephant like a pillow. Apart from the white cast on her leg, she looked comfortable. “What’s wrong?” My heart constricted, waiting for whatever had Wade agitated.
“Nothing. Don’t worry about it.”
“Just tell me.” Didn’t he know I’d worry incessantly until he gave me every last detail?
He sat back on the couch and grabbed the remote. “It’s nothing, really. They messed up the order at the bar, that’s all.”
My shoulders slumped with relief. Juno’s fine. Alex is fine. The bar’s inventory was nothing to start hyperventilating about. “You should go fix it. I’ll sleep on the couch until you get back.”
“I’m not leaving because Rachel ordered too much tequila and no bourbon.”
“I can handle things for a few hours on my own.” I crossed my arms. “We’re going to need that bar to pay off the vet bills.” At least one of us should have steady employment.
“Are you sure?”
My shoulders straightened at his lack of confidence in me. “Carry Juno outside to go potty before you leave.”
He sighed but found his feet.
“And before you come back, stop by your place to take a shower,” I added, causing him to roll his eyes.
After he’d asked three more times if we’d be okay, my irritation finally pushed him out the door. I curled up on the couch, pulling the blanket to my chest. The cotton smelled faintly of Wade, but I had no impulse to wash it. My hand fell over the side to lie on Juno’s back. I petted her absentmindedly, a painful ache piercing my heart. The pain pills made her lethargic, and I missed my high-energy, always-happy, sweet Juno.
I’d first met Juno a month after my mom passed away, while watering the berries near the side of the house. Juno had dashed across the backyard, ears straight back, looking like she’d never been so happy in her life. She came right up to me, totally trusting, and licked my hand. Her wagging tail had pulled a smile from someplace deep inside me.
I’d been using the high-pitched voice I reserved only for babies and animals when Wade came into view.
“Is she yours?” I’d asked him. We hadn’t spoken since high school. I’d seen him outside a few times but had done everything in my power to avoid him. Talking to anyone had been difficult, least of all to my high school nemesis.
“I thought we could use some joy around here,” Wade had said, bending down to pet her, too. He didn’t comment on the tears in my eyes.
He’d started dropping Juno off at my house more and more, claiming he needed someone to watch her while he went to work. Eventually, he’d asked if she could stay overnight when he went fishing. Juno started to feel like our dog, though he took care of the expenses and walks, while I reminded him frequently to feed her.
Juno’s presence had been the first good thing to happen since my mom’s death.
The storm I’d held at bay, the dark thoughts twisting in my mind, broke through. I sobbed on the couch. “I love you so much,” I gasped, not sure if I was speaking to Juno or my mom’s ashes on the mantel. I’d come so far in these last few months, but in an instant, as quick as a speeding car, my world broke again. Fear constricted my heart. Juno’s accident had reminded me of what loss could feel like, how very fragile life was. We were all teetering on the ledge. One step, one mistake, one miscalculation—that’s all it would take to lose another soul I cared about.
Whether it be Juno or Wade or Alex, could I survive another loss?
I did not know.
The voice sounded far away. “Felicity.” A hand shook my shoulder. “Felicity, wake up.”
I groaned, then rubbed my eyes, trying to dispel the exhaustion. I’d fallen asleep crying again. My body ached, a physical manifestation of my stress.
“Where is she?” In the dark living room, I could barely see Wade’s face.
“Hmm?”
“Juno.” He pointed at the empty dog bed by the couch. “Where is she?”
Instinct took over, and I tossed aside my blanket, standing so quickly the room spun. “She was right there a minute ago.” How long had I been asleep? Where could she have gone? All the doors had been shut. No one had come into the house.
Dogs prefer to die alone.
“Juno,” I called out before making kissing noises. “Juno. Come here, girl.”
A high-pitched whine came from across the house. The sound had me nearly sprinting to the kitchen, not stopping to turn the lights on. Wade followed so closely behind me that I thought he’d step on my heels.
I rounded the corner, heart beating frantically, then stopped dead.
Juno lay on the floor. Her white cast scraped on the wood as she scooted closer to the bedroom door. She whined again.
Wade moved to step around me, but I grabbed his torso, halting him. “Wait,” I said.
She scratched at the wood with her uninjured paw. Her whining grew louder until she let out a feeble bark.
My hands tightened their hold on Wade’s T-shirt. Open the door, Alex.
Juno put her nose at the very bottom of the door, as if trying to slip inside through the crack between the door and the floor.
I know you can hear her.
“Open the door,” I whispered, so quietly I wasn’t sure I’d actually spoken.
Juno barked again, louder this time.
I couldn’t breathe. The world tilted, threatening to topple and crush every tendril of hope I’d ever had.
The doorknob twisted, and the smallest space appeared between the door and the wall. I leaned forward on my tiptoes in anticipation, willing, hoping, praying, that the door would open wider.
A hand poked into the hallway. Juno let out a squeak as Alex petted the top of her head. Her tail swished back and forth on the floor.
After what seemed like a lifetime, the bedroom door opened wide, spilling light into the kitchen. Juno, as if sensing she only had a mere moment, scooted herself inside the room, disappearing from view.
Releasing my hold on Wade, I stumbled forward, peering around the doorframe. The bright light made me squint.
Alex sat on the floor with Juno in her lap. She’d wrapped her hands around Juno’s head, hugging her tightly. Juno wiggled until she could lick the tears on Alex’s face.
Wade bumped into my shoulder when he stopped beside me. I squeezed his hand; he tightened his fingers in response, an unspoken conversation between the two of us.
Did Alex know we were standing in the doorway? Or was she so focused on Juno that she didn’t care?
Juno settled down long enough that Alex could kiss the top of her head. “I’m sorry,” Alex said. “I’m so, so sorry.”
The two of them lay on the floor, intertwined, like they never wanted to be separated again.
Slowly, without making a sound, Wade and I retreated into the kitchen.
His smile provoked mine, and we stood grinning like idiots in the dark. I bowed my forehead against his chest. He wrapped his arms around me, engulfing me in his strong, sturdy frame. An immediate feeling of comfort washed through me. I breathed in tune with the rise and fall of his chest, relaxing for the first time in days.
