Say You'll Remember Me(93)

“Yup. That’s gonna be rough for a while, but it won’t stop you from getting a good job somewhere. These are excuses. Is it pride? Or maybe you don’t love the girl enough. I might be jumping to conclusions on that, if I am, I apologize, feel free to ignore me.”

But I did. I loved the girl enough.

It wasn’t really any one thing. It was all the things.

There was the showing up with nothing to offer her. No job, no savings, bankrupt and penniless. Letting Maggie and Tina down, them having to find a new job after they’d believed in me. Having to disassemble everything I’d spent years working toward, watching my clinic sell at auction for parts.

All of that was enough.

But to know my parents would be laughing? Rejoicing in it? The last insult to this injury. I couldn’t stomach that most of all.

I put my head into my hands.

Hank studied me. “This might come out of left field, but do you talk to your parents?” he asked.

I shook my head slowly. “No.”

“Why not?”

“It’s hard to explain,” I said, sitting up.

“Huh. I figured as much.”

He set his fork down.

“Did you know my clinic used to be over on Main?” he asked, wiping his mouth with a napkin.

“No. I didn’t know that.”

“Yeah. That was the business with the bad partner. The one that went under. Used to be New Hope Veterinary back then.”

Something about the name was familiar, but I couldn’t place it.

“I met this young man there,” he said. “Long time ago. Probably seventeen, eighteen years now. I thought about him for over a decade. Never stopped really. He came in with this collie mix, I’ll never forget her name. Winnie.”

I froze.

“That’s you, isn’t it?” he asked. “I wasn’t sure at first, took me a few weeks to settle on it. It was the eyes I remembered. You got taller, got the beard, but the eyes didn’t change.”

My heart was pounding.

“You came in with that dog and I helped her,” he said. “Shit parents if I remember correctly. And now here you are.” He shook his head. “I’ve never been much for believing in fate, but I gotta tell you, this one makes the argument. Or maybe it’s karma. Good people attracting other good people. The ladies working for you because you’re a good doctor, and then coming to get me because they knew this would be a safe place for me when I needed it. Anyway. No matter how I ended up here, I think it was because I was supposed to see how you turned out.” He smiled. “And look at you. Look at everything you did.”

I was speechless. I couldn’t even believe it.

I didn’t recognize him, didn’t remember the name. But now that I knew, my brain released an ancient memory and filled in the parts I forgot.

It was him. Older, grayer, more slumped—but him.

“I… I became a vet because of you,” I breathed.

“And a fine one at that.” He leaned forward to look me in the eye. “The people who raise us have a hold on us. I still think about the things my parents did and didn’t do—we’re built that way, you know. We’re supposed to care what they think, it’s a survival instinct. But parents are human and not all humans should have children. Sometimes you just get bad ones. I never got to be a parent. Wanted to, but it wasn’t in the cards for us. But nothing to do about that now. I think I would have been good at being a dad, in my opinion. And on that note, for what it’s worth, I want you to know that I am proud of you. You’re a good man. You did well. And I don’t know the whole situation—maybe you’re stalling because of everything you said. Or maybe you’re stalling for them. You have something to prove. They’re waiting to see you fail and you want them to wait forever. But she’s also waiting forever. And so are you. You need to think about that.”

He pushed up on his knees and stood. “All I’ve got left are memories. You still have a chance to make them. I’ll be disappointed if you don’t.”

He smiled at me a moment. Then he cleared his empty plate, tipped his head, and made his way out.





45





SAMANTHA


I WAS LYING in my bed staring at the ceiling when the first knock came at the door.

I didn’t get up. “Come in, it’s open,” I muttered.

Jeneva peeked her head around the corner. “I brought a bottle of wine,” she said, holding it up.

“Nice.”

“I had to go buy it,” she said, closing the door behind her. “Heaven forbid anyone actually be allowed into the wine cellar to drink what we already own.” She walked over and handed me a wineglass, then pulled the cork out while Pooter and Pugsly did their best to trip her.

I sat up and rubbed my forehead as she poured.

“I’m not letting this breathe,” I said.

“That kind of day?”

“That kind of year,” I mumbled. “I made snacks,” I said, nodding at the cheese and meat board.

She poured herself a glass and took the chair across from me. “I’m so glad you texted me to hang out. I feel like I haven’t even seen you. How was Minnesota?”

I scoffed but didn’t answer. I’d been back a week. I missed him, I left too early, he was still sick when I went home. I was sad and generally feeling sorry for myself and feeling even sorrier for him.