Chapter 1 #2
“I’m getting on my cruise now. Maybe I’ll let you join us in Barbados if you’re nice. Maybe we’ll both find a man.”
“No, thank you.”
“That is exactly what you need. A month off with some good dicking.”
“Other bosses don’t say this kind of stuff.”
“It’s for your own good, Joy. Merry Christmas.”
“I hate you.”
“See you in the new year. Rest. Please. Watch Hallmark holiday movies. Bake cookies and go to the mall to fuck a man in a Santa suit.”
“Too soon.”
“Love you!”
When my parents divorced, I was ten.
Mom sat me down, rubbed my back like she used to when I got a B on a test, and said, “Never, ever put your career on hold for a man. Don’t sacrifice your independence. Love doesn’t always last.”
I memorized those words, repeated them in my head until they became a mantra. Eventually, relationships became secondary, nice if the timing worked out, but never essential.
And yet, somewhere buried deep, a small, stubborn part of me has always wanted a family. Wanted kids. Wanted the early morning pancakes and a hockey game to go to after work. I want laughter and a love that feels like being pumped full of helium.
I can still hear the echoes of my parents fighting in the screeching of the subway system or when patients get frustrated. But I never wanted to be like Mom. I never wanted to end up scrambling to rebuild my life and career like she had to after Dad left her with nothing.
So, I threw myself into vet school, residencies, and endless nights at the clinic. I memorized protocols and perfected sutures.
In work, I was in control.
In work, I mattered.
In work, no one could break me.
Somewhere along the way, I settled in love.
It’s not the first time Parker and I have broken up, but it’s usually him breaking up with me after I get out of a fifteen-hour surgery because of yet another date I forgot. Not because I caught him with his dick inside someone who definitely isn’t me.
I cannot be here when he gets back. I can’t keep settling.
I could join Mom and Frank, my stepdad, on their Italy trip, or Dad and my stepmom, Didi, in Japan, but I don’t want to deal with the third degree about what happened with Parker. I’ll tell them after the holidays.
Maybe after New Year’s. Or Valentine’s Day.
Or never.
Across the couch, Jubilee blinks at me. She finally regained consciousness and is munching on daisies.
“We need to get out of the city,” I tell her
She flicks an ear.
An hour and a bottle of Parker’s nice Chardonnay later, I have thirty-two tabs open, including Airbnb, Craigslist, VRBO, and a blog post titled “How to Cry,” which starts with “Watch Marley & Me.”
Am I really soulless?
My laptop is hot against my thighs as I scroll. Everything is booked, or too sketchy, or too cheery.
I just want a place where I can drink Parker’s expensive wine collection and maybe have a December fling. Maybe I could write a book about the new surgery technique I’ve used to remove gallstones in cats.
Make Parker see what he’s missing when it gets published in Veterinary Surgery.
That’ll show him. Nothing says “Fuck you” like academic acclaim.
After topping off my wine, I land on a Craigslist ad that stops me.
Temporary vet help needed for the month of December in exchange for living quarters.
Private Cabin.
Immediate start on December 1st. Last day: December 31st.
I hesitate, then drain my glass.
December first.
That’s tomorrow.
Is Miriam fucking with me? This is too perfect. I mean, except for the fact that it’s an ad on Craigslist, which means there’s a seventy-three percent chance I’m about to get murdered.
The clinic doesn’t open until January second, which means I can come back on New Year’s Day, find a new apartment, and get back to work.
I scroll through the pictures that feature a studio-sized cabin in Maine. It’s surrounded by snowy trees and has a fireplace, a big kitchen by New York standards, and a queen-sized bed that hasn’t been tainted by a cheating ex.
“This is probably a trap, right?” I turn my screen to Jubilee, who is upside down, fast asleep.
“It’s in a town called Cranberry Hollow.” I pull up the Wikipedia page. “Population eight hundred and ninety-eight. Jubs, there are more people in our apartment building than in this whole town.”
The bottom of the listing states: Must be experienced with large animals, preferably reindeer.
Damn. The closest thing to a large animal I’ve cared for is Hurley, a two-hundred-pound Saint Bernard with tummy issues. And that one month I spent externing at UC Davis, but that was nearly a decade ago.
But the listing has been posted for a month with zero responses.
I mean, it wouldn’t hurt to just apply. How many reindeer could one person have? Plus, I need to get out of this apartment by tomorrow.
I finish the bottle of wine, slap together a hasty email, and attach my résumé.
Ten minutes later, my inbox pings.
From: Jamie Wilder
Subject: Re: Vet Position Inquiry
Hiya Joy how soon can you get here?
I bite the edge of my wine glass while I reread the email. Is it blurry? I squint at the screen while I respond.
From: Joy Winters
Subject: Re:Re: Vet position Inquiry
Dearest Jamie,
You don’t want to call all my references to make sure I’m not a scam artist with a vendetta against people who post help wanted signs on the internet?
- Dr. Winters
From: Jamie Wilder
Now that you mention it, it does seem a little scam artist-y that you went to Harvard. Sounds made up.
From: Joy Winters
You’re joking?
P.S. How old are you? Who still uses Craigslist?
From: Jamie Wilder
Guess you will just have to test my Harvard knowledge in person. I’m thirty-three and obviously both of us still use it, so I’d say we are about the same age.
From: Joy Winters
I’m thirty-two, thank you very much.
From: Jamie Wilder
My sincerest apologies. What do you say, Doc? You wanna help an “old” man out?
I tap my fingers on my chin.
So he’s a man.
And…is he flirting with me?
Maybe he’s hot, like one of those bodice-ripper books in the grocery store I’ve never made time to read.
From: Joy Winters
I could be there tomorrow. There is a flight that gets into Portland around 10 am. Send me the address. I’ll book the flight. If I go missing, make sure they use the photo on my résumé. I’d hate for my mom to pull one out from the past.
From: Jamie Wilder
You do have that perfect “I save animals, so save me” face. I’ll arrange a car from the airport. Thanks, Joy. I was really desperate to get some help out here.
“Parker who?” I hiccup at Jubilee.
I buy my ticket, pour another glass of wine, and pack all my belongings into six crammed suitcases.
I can survive anything for one month. I’ve worked thirty-six-hour shifts. I’ve removed a tennis ball from a Rottweiler’s intestines at three in the morning. I once talked a hysterical pet owner off a ledge when their hamster ate a Lego.
How hard could a few reindeer possibly be?