Say You'll Remember Me(5)

How these women managed to glean this much about my friends from the handful of times they’d come in here and the limited information I provided them was beyond me.

Maggie burst into the back. “Dr. Rush!” She was panting. “That lady is here!” she hiss-whispered.

I blinked at her. “What lady?”

Her eyes were wide. “The butthole cat lady.”

I froze. Samantha.

After I’d sent the donation last month, I got a generic thank-you email—not that I expected anything beyond that. I didn’t send it in the hopes she’d reach out, I sent it to help and to apologize. But so much time had passed…

“What does she want?” I asked.

“An exam?” Maggie said. “Says she’s flying with the cat and she needs a health certificate and a sedative.”

Why would she come to me?

I’d been reliving that entire encounter in my head on a loop for the last six weeks. I couldn’t let it go.

I’d acted badly. My behavior had been unprofessional and uncalled-for. The culmination of exhaustion and the general fatigue of dealing with other human beings, but I’d atoned for it and usually that was enough for me to move on.

But I couldn’t shake this and I didn’t know why.

No. I did know why. It was her.

Normally things people said about my personality didn’t bother me. I was dry. I’d always been dry. She had every right to say what she did and call me what she had. She wasn’t even the first person to do it. But coming from this woman it had hit differently for some reason. It bothered me that I’d let her down.

It had made me work more these last few weeks to be softer with people. Like she’d somehow know if I was short with someone and it would disappoint her, which was ridiculous on a thousand different levels, but I was doing it nonetheless.

And now she was here.

I went to the bathroom to check my hair. Then I was mad at myself for checking my hair because she wasn’t here to look at me, she was here for me to look at her cat. I came out and went straight to the hallway to go get this over with, then immediately turned around. “What room?”

Maggie was waiting for me. “Two.”

I left again. Then I came back.

“Tablet,” I said.

Maggie was standing there smiling, holding it up, like she’d known I was coming. I narrowed my eyes at her, took it, and left. Again.

When I opened the door to room two, Samantha was in the same place as last time, cat in her shirt.

“Hello, Dr. Rush,” she said wryly.

Beautiful. Even more than last time.

“Miss Diaz,” I said, my voice low.

I went to the sink to wash my hands, mostly to buy myself time before I had to talk to her.

When I turned back around, she was smiling at me. “Would you like to see my kitten’s butthole?”

I snorted. Then I straightened and tossed the paper towel in the trash. “I actually would like to see that.”

She pulled the cat out of her bra and handed her to me.

I set her on the exam table and lifted her tail. Then I raised my eyebrows. “That’s an excellent-looking butthole.”

“Riiiight?” She grinned.

I had to work to keep my face straight.

“The surgeon said the deformity was more minor than we thought,” she said, watching me examine Pooter. “She came through it great, she’s not incontinent or anything.”

“Are her bowel movements normal?” I asked, feeling her stomach.

“Yup.”

“How many a day?”

“Two to three,” she said.

“How do they look?”

“I brought you a picture because I just knew you’d want to see it.”

She took out her phone and swiped and then held it out to me. I nodded sagely. “Perfect.”

I felt her watch me as I checked the kitten’s teeth and eyes.

The cat smelled like her perfume again. Again I liked it.

She put her phone back in her purse and leaned against the wall. “I accept your apology by the way,” she said.

I glanced up at her. “I was wrong. I can admit when I’m wrong. I underestimated the people of the internet.”

“No, you underestimated me and how funny I can be, which is worse.”

She got a small smile out of me.

I took out my stethoscope and listened to Pooter’s heart and lungs.

“You raised more than you needed,” I said. “What did you do with the rest?”

“I donated it all to Bitty Kitty Brigade.”

I wrapped the stethoscope around my neck. I liked that.

“I think she’s in good shape,” I said. “I can clear her to fly. I’ll give you something for the trip.”

“Thanks.”

Then she waited, giving me a Well? look.

Well indeed.

“Would you like to go on a date with me?” I asked.

“Absolutely,” she said without even thinking about it. “But you have to take me tonight. I leave tomorrow.”

“Pick you up or meet you somewhere?” I asked.

“Pick me up.”

“Six thirty?”

“Sounds good,” she said. “My number’s in Pooter’s chart.”