The ferocious, bloodthirsty demon had been Callie all along.
“Hello, friend,” Dr. Jerry said.
Callie spun around to face him, her soul igniting with shame. Dr. Jerry was standing in the doorway. His eyes flitted across the table. Her dope kit with the fat baggie of heroin. The surgical pack. The lidocaine syringe. The large bottle of blue pentobarbital.
“Goodness.” Dr. Jerry turned his attention to the giant red knot in her leg. “May I help with that?”
Callie’s mouth flooded with apologies, but her lips wouldn’t let them come out. There were no excuses for this situation. Her guilt was laid out like evidence at a trial.
“Let’s see what we have here, young miss.” Dr. Jerry sat down. His lab coat was wrinkled. His glasses were askew. His hair had not been combed. She could smell the sour odor of sleep on his breath as his fingers gently pressed around the abscess. He told her, “If you were a calico, I would say that you’d gotten into a very nasty altercation. Which, of course, is not unusual for a calico. They can be quite pugilistic. Unlike pugs, who are notorious recounters. Especially if you get a few drinks into them.”
Callie’s vision blurred with tears. The shame had spread to every fiber of her being. She couldn’t just sit here the same way she always did when he shared one of his stories.
“I see you’ve already started with the lidocaine.” He tested her leg, asking, “Does this feel numb enough, do you think?”
Callie felt her head nod, though she could still feel the sharp burn from the infection. She had to say something, but what could she say? How could she apologize for stealing from him? For jeopardizing his practice? For lying to his face?
Dr. Jerry seemed unconcerned as he took a pair of gloves from the surgical pack. Before he started, he smiled at Callie, giving her the same soothing preamble that he would offer to a frightened whippet. “You’ll be fine, young lady. This will be a little uncomfortable for us both, but I’ll be as quick as I can, and soon, you will feel much better.”
Callie looked at the refrigerator behind him as he sliced open the abscess. She felt his fingers pressing out the infection, wiping it away with the gauze, pressing again until the sac was empty. Cool saline dripped down her leg when he irrigated the opening. She couldn’t look down, but she knew that he was being thorough because he always took special care of every wretched animal that showed up at his door.
“There we go, all done.” Dr. Jerry took off the gloves. He found the first-aid kit in the drawer and selected a medium-sized Band-Aid. He covered the incision, saying, “We should discuss antibiotics, if you’re amenable? I prefer mine hidden inside a piece of cheese.”
Callie still couldn’t make herself speak. Instead, she lifted up in the chair so she could pull her jeans back on. The waist gapped around her stomach. She would need to find a belt.
Belt.
She looked down at her hands. She saw Buddy jerking the belt out of his pants, wrapping it tight around her wrists. Twenty-three years of forgetting had culminated in a flashing horror show that she couldn’t clear from her eyes.
“Callie?”
When she looked up, Dr. Jerry seemed to be patiently waiting for her attention.
He said, “I normally don’t bring up weight, but, in your case, I think it would be appropriate for us to discuss the dispensing of treats. You’re clearly in need of more nutrition.”
She opened her mouth, and the words flooded out. “I’m sorry, Dr. Jerry. I shouldn’t be here. I should’ve never come back. I’m a horrible person. I don’t deserve your help. Or your trust. I’ve been stealing from you and I’m—”
“My friend,” he said. “That is what you are. You’re my friend, as you have been since you were seventeen years old.”
She shook her head. She wasn’t his friend. She was a leech.
He asked, “Do you remember that first time you knocked on my door? I’d put out a help wanted sign, but I had secretly hoped that the help would come from someone as special as you.”
Callie couldn’t take his kindness. She started crying so hard that she had to gulp for breath.
“Callie.” He held on to her hand. “Please don’t cry. There is nothing here that surprises or dismays me.”
She should’ve felt relieved, but she felt more awful because he had never said anything. He had just played along like she was getting away with it.
He said, “You’ve been very clever with the charts and covering your tracks, if that’s any consolation.”