CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

SHUT UP. SHUT UP. SHUT UP.

Griffin saw the determined look on my face. “We’ll finish the paperwork tomorrow. Give Peanut one more bag of IV fluid. Both dogs ate dinner tonight, which is big. They hadn’t been eating well.” He had his hands in his front pockets and looked like he was in professional mode.

“Good.” I rubbed my hands on my thighs. “Can you drive me down to the cabin? I have to talk to the others.”

He nodded, and as we walked into the dry evening air, he said, “You’ll need dog food. I’ll give you a kit with insulin, et cetera. I’ll make a list and get their meds and supplies together.”

We made our way down the canyon, the tires bumping in the ruts. “Thank you so much. I know we haven’t been the most gracious group.”

The van banked as he pulled into the gravel drive, the headlights hitting the sagebrush. “You’re wrong there.”

I never knew what to do with a compliment, and my shyness intensified; I didn’t know how to react to Griffin’s attention. “I wish we had more time here, but I also wish we could leave tonight.”

“Me too,” he said, and I stole a glance at him. It was nice to be liked for something other than being a responsible parent at bake sales. I wondered how much I was creating in my head.

I slid out of the van, and the dark night covered me like a cloak as the lights of Griff’s van swung away and receded. I walked toward the front door of our cabin, the grinding gravel and occasional chirp and rustle of wildlife the only sounds in the air. I smelled cigarette smoke, and as my eyes acclimated, I saw the outline of Summer, seated at the café table on the front porch.

“You smoke? Summer, I am seriously shocked.”

“Don’t judge. You think it’s easy to look emaciated for the paparazzi every day? You have to smoke to make it work.”

Holly would have pointed out that there were no publicity hounds at Best Friends trying to catch Summer the celebrity being just like us. They hug puppies! But I was nicer than Holly. Clearly.

Summer offered me a cigarette, and I said, “No, thanks. Is Holly in there?” I gestured to the cabin door.

“Yup.” Summer texted and held it up for me to read.

Holly get your ass out here.

“You’re brave, Summer.”

I saw her lift her chin and exhale out of the side of her mouth. “So, the vet, huh? Solid choice.”

“I’m rolling my eyes at you.”

“Why? Why not have some fun? You’re away from home. Stuck here. No responsibilities. Single. You could do worse than the vet. My guy at the pig house grew a beard. I barely recognized him.” She took another puff on her cigarette. “Did you know that all potbellied pigs grow up to be full-blown porkers? That’s why they end up here. The potbelly grows up to be a full-on pig, and people give up their beloved, smart, hungry pet.” The night breeze shifted, the cigarette smoke returned, and Summer waved it away. “But we were talking about you and the vet.”

“Should I let him have his way with me on one of the exam tables?” Drew, not Griffin, popped into my mind, and I didn’t chase him out.

“That might be chilly, but sure. Why not?”

“I was kidding! Oh my God.” I was glad she wasn’t looking at me; my face felt warm.

“I never kid about sex. Sex is wizardry that keeps the old lady parts fresh. If you can get a young man, their jism is magic. It’s the fountain of youth.”

“Rein it in, Summer. I am not going to sit out here and talk about sperm and how I should be using it in my skin care regimen.”

“Not on your skin, girlie. Sex with a young guy is like a shot of stem-cell sorcery right in your hot pocket.”

“The mother in me can only think of a safe sex reply about condoms.” But that wasn’t true; I thought about Drew’s hands on my phone.

Two cabins down, an outside light came on, and a man emerged with a dog on a leash. He walked in a circle with the large buff-colored dog and then went back inside, leaving the light on.

Summer said, “You can adopt an animal for a night if you want as a trial run before you bring it home. It’s like animal Tinder if you ask me, but who am I to judge? Have you ever tried e-dating?”

“I don’t date.” I knew I sounded as if I’d rejected something more outrageous than swiping on a phone screen and having a cup of coffee with a man. I realized this was not an inappropriate question, and I softened my response. “Men don’t ask me out. I rarely speak to single men. If a single man, say, delivers a package from Amazon, he sure doesn’t look at me for anything other than a signature. I deal in married men, parents, and teenage girls.” After my speech I said sheepishly, “Although I do think Griffin likes me.”

“And the blind can finally see.” Summer lifted her hands like a preacher. “Things have changed, no?” She stubbed out her cigarette and slipped it into her ever-present bag. I didn’t object. Things were changing.

Holly pushed her way out of the cabin and said, “What do you want, Summer?” To my amazement she saw me and moved toward us, not away. She wore a pair of clean jeans and didn’t look tired or annoyed. I dropped my shoulders, relieved. A truce?

“It’s time for weed, my friends,” announced Summer. “And don’t give me the shocked country girl response, Sam. You’re gonna take a puff of this pen and relax. If you say no”—she lowered her voice to a stage whisper—“I’m leaving you alone with Holly for the rest of the trip.”

“I heard that.” And damn it if Holly didn’t say it with a wry smile.

When Summer handed me the slim, almost-weightless pen, I shrugged and gave her this victory. It was easier than sex with the vet on his exam table. I inhaled and coughed like the amateur I was. I didn’t even care. I wasn’t here to be anyone I wasn’t, and I sure wasn’t a cool pot-smoking quick-sex-haver.

“Your turn, Holly,” she said, and I watched Holly inhale.

Jeff and I had smoked the traditional doobie with a roach clip in college. That was before weed quality control. Weed is a spa experience these days, and I immediately felt relaxed and calmly dizzy.

I kicked out the metal chair for Holly, and she sat, looking looser than she had the whole trip. She sat equidistant from Summer, and I felt a new, hopeful quiet in her presence.

Summer squinted at me. “What do you do for fun, Sam? You know, when you’re not taking care of somebody.”

I made a face. “I’m not always a mom.” Knowing that wasn’t even close to true. “I belonged to the Friends of the Library Book Club that should have been called Gossip and Netflix with the Girls. Our book discussions lasted maybe a minute—the group wasn’t a literary sort.” I gestured for another hit.

“Hells yeah, Sam!” Summer handed the pen over.

I inhaled. “The group mostly wanted to talk about the book covers or if they wanted to be friends with the protagonist. Marjorie, the youngest of the group, listened to all the books on her speakerphone and lamented authors who used too many cusswords. She said that her kindergartner, Peter, who had terrible adenoids and sounded stuffy year-round, had started saying, ‘Mom, I want some more ducking rice.’ And ‘Where is ducking Buzz Lightyear?’”

Summer laughed and took a hit. “That’s the question for the ages. Where is mother-ducking Buzz Lightyear?”

“Mostly the group talked about what show we were binge-watching and how hot Idris Elba is.”

“Right? Smoking hot!” said Summer.

“No argument there. He is gorgeous,” said Holly.

I let myself enjoy that second of agreement from Holly before saying, “After several glasses of wine, one night the conversation turned to vibrators.”

“As it so often does with book clubs,” said Summer.

“You guys, I don’t own a vibrator.”

“Not even a little one?” Holly asked.

“Nope. I shut that part of my life down with Jeff.”

Summer sat up, serious now. “You have not had an orgasm since your husband died two thousand years ago?”

“Well, no. I mean. Sometimes I have one accidentally when I’m sleeping. I have this great recurring dream with Dwayne ‘The Rock’ Johnson.”

“Accidentally?” Summer was doing the interviewing but Holly was listening.

“Spontaneously, I should say.” I knew I was high now, or I’d never have said this out loud.

“God, your body is trying so hard to live, and you are shutting it down on a daily basis. But why?”

I didn’t hesitate, which is why I don’t do pot on a regular basis. It’s like truth serum. “Twenty years ago I said I do , but I didn’t, and then he died.”

“And?” Holly exhaled smoke into the night.

“I don’t know.”

“Yes, you do,” Summer said, not bothering to look at me. Her wise and childlike face lifted to the stars.

“Okay. I’ve thought about this a lot.” I closed my eyes, and without thinking it through, I said, “It was a reprieve, but maybe it was also the punishment. I don’t know if I have what it takes to start or finish a new relationship. I don’t have the skills. Either way I looked at it, I made myself miserable, and I’m being careful not to make myself miserable again.”

“Oh yeah, you do seem happy living between wanting everything and running away,” said Holly, but not with her usual rancor. She said it like old, funny sarcastic Holly. The one who liked me.

“Hey,” I said and swatted her arm. And we both stared at each other. Holly and me.

Then Summer slapped me, and I let out a whoop and dodged her. A dog let out a bark, and someone from one of the cabins shouted, “Go to bed.”

Summer widened her eyes, and we laughed at the admonishment. The dog lover who wanted other animals to go to sleep and stop messing around.

“Not to be a buzzkill, but it’s time to get out of here,” I said.

“Agreed,” Holly said and rested her head on the nearby stucco wall of the cabin. “Let’s make a list of things we need from Griffin.”

“Done.”

We were all quiet for a few moments, and Holly pointed to me and said, “Time to get this ho on the oad,” and we laughed until we got yelled at again.

The next morning I woke after a restless night sleeping with Summer in a double bed. My thoughts went instantly to Katie and getting Peanut to her. Holly lay under the covers, and I rolled to my side and watched Summer, already dressed, smearing lotion on her arms.

“Good. You’re awake. I’ve signed you guys up for volunteering. We have to attend a quick orientation, and then we can go to our posts.”

“Nope,” Holly said, as if she’d been up for a while. “I’m not doing that.”

“Yup, you are. I’ve signed you up. This place runs on volunteers. If you don’t show up, they won’t have enough help.”

I had to hand it to Summer. She read the tidy, groomed, hyper-responsible Holly and saw who she was at her core. Holly would never, ever back out of a commitment, even if she hadn’t committed herself. I was starting to think Summer was from a higher power to screw with us.

“I put you in the cat house for obvious personality similarities, Holly. Sam, I’m sorry to say that there were no spots in Dog Town or the Bunny House, so you’re in with the parrots. You’ll love it. They are crazy cool.”

Holly said, “Where are you volunteering, then?”

“The pigs, of course.”

“Why ‘of course’?” I said.

“They’re obsessed with food. I’m obsessed with food. Plus, my guy is over there. He gets me pig privileges.”

“I don’t want to know what pig privileges are,” I said.

“I wouldn’t tell you. You wouldn’t understand.”

We went to a quick orientation with a roomful of other volunteers . . . a trio of women in matching shirts, a married couple who held hands through the film on animal safety, and a man with a white ponytail who was eager to interact. “Your first time? I’ve volunteered sixty-five times. I like the bunnies best, but lots of times I go to the cat house.”

I was about to make a joke about cat houses and hookers, but Summer elbowed me. I glanced at Holly, who was texting but smiling, and I had the feeling she was smiling at the people in the room, the oddball collection that we were a part of. Even after all these years, I knew what Holly was thinking. We thought the same things were funny, and although Holly was not aware of my connecting us in the moment, I felt closer to her.

After we finished, the volunteer van dropped us at the top of the canyon, and we separated. I watched Holly stroll to Cat World with her hands in her back pockets, which I knew meant she was feeling shy. My heart pinched for her, the usually bold Holly out of her familiar role of being in charge of everyone. Seeing her from the outside like this was like peering at your hometown after being away. All the sights generated mixed feelings of curiosity, melancholy—and in the city that was Holly—the grief and confusion of our loss.

“Have fun with the kitties, Holly,” I said, but not loud enough for her to hear me.

I walked to the Parrot Garden with a married couple who had met one another volunteering and came back every year on their anniversary. Cheryl and Joel were from Phoenix and drove an RV that had all the comforts of home. They were volunteer pros, if there was such a thing.

“Samantha, is it?” Cheryl said. “Remember—you can’t put the parrot dishes in with the cockatoo dishes. You can’t cross-contaminate any of the dishes. Remember, no cross-contamination.”

I nodded. As we got closer to the birds, their shrieking became louder, and I looked at my companions for any sign of alarm. Joel opened the door, and an earsplitting squawk came from somewhere in the building.

“Yikes. If we were out in the world and a person was yelling this loud, we would call 911,” I said, laughing.

Cheryl and Joel exchanged looks, and through pursed lips Cheryl said, “They’re just talking to each other.”

“No, I know. I was just joking.”

I felt a tug at my elbow and heard Griff say, “Cheryl, I’m borrowing Samantha.”

Married Cheryl turned her frown upside down when she saw Griff. “Anything you say, Doc.” She beamed.

A bird shouted, “Shut up. Shut up. Shut up!” and Joel said, “Okay, Romeo, that’s enough.”

When we were out of earshot, I said, “Cheryl likes you.”

“She is an exacting volunteer,” Griff said, dodging my observation. “I saw you were signed up to help in here. I think you need a Best Friends experience that has more romance than the Parrot Garden.”

Romance? How to feel? How to handle? Must make a joke. “But Romeo,” I said.

“I promise I’ll get you some one-on-one time with Romeo,” he said.

“Please tell Romeo my true love is ice cream.” I tried a hearty laugh, but it came out cartoonishly loud while my mind was turning over the thought maybe?