Let the Bad Times Roll
Dina
my thesis momentum. Something I swore I’d never allow to happen. My degree is too important to me to throw it away for someone who threw me away. From now on, I’m going to trust Nacho’s judgement though, and if he tries to shred someone’s pant legs upon first meeting, I’ll take his opinion seriously. It’s not his fault he was swayed by delicious cookies. Who wouldn’t be?
Thankfully, Hollis and Angel have helped me through my first romantic heartbreak over the past two months, and now I’m ready to defend my thesis next week. Despite the bad weather, I’ve got no choice but to venture to the library so I can double check to make sure my bibliography and direct quotes are correct. It’s a last-minute task I have put off for far too long.
Nacho is ready in his layers, with a knitted sweater underneath his raincoat, then tucked into his carry bag. With me in my sweater and raincoat, umbrella in hand, we’re on our way to the library.
The entire walk is miserable. The wind off the lake, coupled with the tunnels created by the tall buildings in the downtown core, makes the rain pelt my face and body with ferocity. Not to mention, the temperature is hovering just above freezing, so the rain is ice cold. Nacho is not pleased, but at least he’s dry. I could have made him walk like a normal dog.
“It’s okay, baby boy. Momma will get you there as fast as she can.” I try to pick up my pace, but the wind is head on.
Could this day get any worse?
The library door, which usually slides open like every other automatic door in existence, apparently doesn’t recognize me as a human. I stand at the entrance, waving my hands, doing jumping jacks and irritating my already angry dog until finally the door inches open enough for me to slip inside. The dark grey carpet in the lobby is a couple of shades darker from the water tracked in by other visitors, and everything smells damp. No one is at the reception area, so I just wave at the security guard and continue upstairs.
It takes about twenty minutes to find the books I need. One was misplaced and took three-quarters of that time to track down. Instead of finding a comfortable place on the reading terrace, I go to the right and find a lonely couch set along the walls with only a few small, round windows almost at the ceiling. The artificial light is sufficient to complete my task, but this space doesn’t compare to the bright light and comfort of my usual spot. Unfortunately, that space has been ruined forever.
For over an hour, no one disrupts my work and I make good progress with Nacho snuggled up beside me, still in his open bag, but his outfit removed. The rain hasn’t let up enough to head home yet, so I dive back in after setting an alarm on my phone to come back to the real world in thirty minutes. The forecast is brief periods of cloudiness, but the chance of showers decreases as the day goes on. Even if it slows to a drizzle, I’ll make a break for it just to be safe.
I skim through one book I read a few months ago, Once Upon a Desert Isle, because I vividly remember it making me laugh so hard, I had tears streaming down my face. I could use a few laughs. The author of this book seems to have written the nonsensical comedy with me in mind. It makes me chuckle and boosts my mood. There’s nothing like the right book appearing in your life at the perfect moment.
My phone buzzes from my alarm, so I get up to stretch my legs, leaving Nacho on the sofa while I check the weather situation. I step a few feet around the corner when a loud alarm starts blaring. It’s a stark contrast to the otherwise silent space.
I look around at other people in the vicinity, wondering if we should run for our lives or if it is a false alarm. That question is put to rest when the security guard rushes up the stairs and starts shouting at everyone to leave the building in an orderly fashion through the back emergency exit.
Nacho! I rush over to where I left him, which is less than five metres away, only to find my baby has disappeared. I resist the urge to crumple on the ground in a panic. I have to find him.
“Nacho! Nacho Dog? Where are you, baby?” I shout as I walk away from the stairwell. Surely if he ran that way, people would have noticed. “Nacho Dog. Come to Momma, please. Please, Nacho. I can’t leave without you.” My words get stuck in my throat because I can’t imagine walking out of here without him. He’s my entire world.
“Ma’am, you need to exit the building immediately!” the stern security guard shouts. “Please, head for the exit.”
There are sirens blaring outside, which further confirms this is not a drill or false alarm.
“My dog. He was just right here. I have to find him.” At this point, I don’t care if I get banned from the library for life. I’m not leaving without him.
“Dog? You brought a dog to a public library?”
“Now is not the time, Ronald! I need to find him. He’s a little chihuahua, about yay big”—I hold my hands several inches apart to demonstrate Nacho’s size—“and he’s a textbook ankle biter, long hair on his ears, white and caramel colour. Please, help me find him.”
“Ma’am, my responsibility is to get you out of here. The firefighters can find your dog. We need to leave.”
“Firefighters? Is there a fire?”
“Afraid so. Smoke is coming from the main entrance.” Ronald performs a visual scan of the top floor, then steps over and grabs Nacho’s carrier. “I have to cover the rest of this floor quickly. You get to safety, and if I find your dog, I’ll bring him out. But please, you need to go.”
The thought of leaving Nacho when he’s scared and needs me the most makes me feel sick. “I can’t leave him. Please, just let me find him.”
“Ma’am, you need to leave… before we all wind up dead.”
I close my eyes, which forces the pooling tears to run down my cheeks. It’s starting to smell like smoke up here. I can’t be responsible for Ronald losing his life because I was stubborn. With no other choice, I nod.
Firefighters are filing in as I descend the stairs through the thickening smoke. I stop one who is rushing past me to inform him of my missing dog. He promises he’ll relay the information and do what he can. That doesn’t sound encouraging, but I have to hold on to the glimmer of hope that offers. Before I reach the bottom floor, the sprinkler system kicks in, soaking my hair, sweater, and pants.
I step into the fresh air, immediately realizing how badly my eyes are burning, and start coughing. A paramedic rushes over to check on me, but I wave her off and insist I’m fine.
“We should treat you for smoke inhalation. Just to be safe.”
Everything else around me fades out and I only hear my own sobbing. Clearly, the only reason I’m having trouble catching my breath is because I’m crying so hard. The paramedic assesses me and deems me in need of oxygen, so she has me sit at the edge of the ambulance, places a mask over my mouth and nose, and wraps me in a foil blanket.
It doesn’t help. No oxygen is going to help me when my sweet—maybe not to the general population, but sweet to me—baby is afraid and alone. I feel afraid and alone without him.
I don’t think it’s possible for the day to get any worse. Until it does.