Chapter 3
three
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Isplashed cold water over my face after I’d gotten out of the shower and dried up.
The shower had been good. The water stayed hot longer than I’d counted on, and the floor seemed to either be one of those fancy floors that heated up, or it was more insulated than I would’ve expected for a house that had to be a few centuries old, minimum.
That didn’t erase the fact that I’d made a fool of myself for the past, what, hour? Thirty minutes? I didn’t know. My watch had died halfway from the airport to the refuge, and I’d felt too anxious to grab my phone and give an even worse first impression.
It would be deserved, but he’d have time to figure it out on his own. I’d already annoyed the man—Saúl—enough for one day.
Yes, this was a—potentially misguided—punishment on myself, but the animals shouldn’t be to blame for it.
Or Saúl. Or any of the other workers I hadn’t met yet.
Saúl’s dad had said I’d be working with a team to care for the animals, but I didn’t know when I’d be meeting them or how exactly we were distributing tasks.
The older man had joked that there would be time to discuss that kind of thing with the other vets.
All I knew was that I was going to be in charge of the big carnivores, and there were two other vets—one for the horses and a nutritionist. The rest of the team was made up of volunteers, assistants, and temp students who either spent the summers and a few weekends here or came after class during vaccination season or at any other time we needed more hands on deck.
I wasn’t sure how doable it was long-term, and I wasn’t sure about having a supervisor role, but if it had worked for them this far…
Maybe I wouldn’t be the best at handling a team if they were the kind to cause trouble, but I did know I was good with animals.
Animals would always stand over people.
Saúl was in the kitchen when I went back down.
He hummed to himself as he leaned against the counter with one plate of what looked like half-eaten pie on hand.
Part of me wanted to ask if he didn’t sit down to eat.
I didn’t know what his role was in the refuge exactly, but it would be grueling work regardless.
Besides, mindfulness experts all said it was important to sit down and enjoy a meal properly.
Instead, I just stood staring at him and all that dark hair and tanned skin and muscles.
His father had explained that they were a Chilean family who had moved here—his father and his wife; so, Saúl’s grandparents—and then more of their relatives had started moving, too.
He’d explained a lot more than I would’ve expected.
I didn’t catch half of it, but I caught on that family was important to him, and I’d be dealing with lots of his nephews and nieces and… more family.
It had been intimidating, given I couldn’t remember the last time I’d even had a meal with my own. When I graduated, maybe?
“Bon appétit?”
Shit.
It came out as a question, didn’t it?
My throat clogged up, my heart rate racing the way it always did when I forgot how to have a simple, basic conversation.
“Hungry?” Saúl took forever to pose the question. There was no way this was only in my head. I could sometimes imagine things, but I wasn’t imagining this much. “I can heat up a portion for you.”
“No, it’s—”
I didn’t have time to tell him it was fine and I’d already eaten at the airport, because my stomach growled in protest. Instinctually, I wrapped an arm around it. For some reason, I always thought that was a myth—stomachs so loud that others would hear them.
Today was really turning out to be the worst day, and the contract had a 30-day trial period where they could fire me without compensation or anything else, and even if Saúl didn’t know about it, his father did, and they would talk because the other man was big on family values, and Saúl would complain about me, and then—
“Breathe.” His gravely voice broke through the building panic, somehow. I swallowed. Maybe I should’ve stayed upstairs. People got jetlagged all the time; it would’ve been a viable excuse. “You don’t have to walk on eggshells around here, you know?”
He shook his head before I had time to ask him or process what he’d said.
Then, he was dropping his finished plate in the sink and moving to the industrial-sized fridge.
If it was only him here, I didn’t understand the size of the fridge, but maybe it hadn’t always been just him.
This place definitely had the rooms to hold a whole family or two.
I only perused my room quickly when I dropped my suitcase, but the size rivaled that of my old apartment.
“Yeah.”
I glanced down while he plopped the leftover pie in the microwave. It was the only sound I could think of uttering. How did I explain to my new boss that shit was easier said than done, or that he shouldn’t bother with me because I was an asshole who didn’t deserve people caring about him?
“What did Father Dearest tell you about the job?”
I focused on the microwave heating up my food.
Sometimes this kind of thing helped me sound more put-together.
A therapist had suggested it, back when I was in school and my parents didn’t get me any appointments, but the school counselor found ways to see me during breaks and shit.
She had been nice. I should check in on her, but was that too creepy?
I didn’t know.
There were many things I didn’t know.
I could, however, tell him about the job interview with his dad and the contract—and what little it actually outlined.
“There are four headquarters, per se,” Saúl explained. “This house, the lodging where the ranch hands stay, the animal care facilities, and the visitor center. That one is next to the front gate, and it’s just where we take people who want to donate money. Or the ones who can ride the horses.”
I took a step back, my lower back hitting the steel table there. I didn’t show that the sharp edge made me want to tear up—I deserved a cookie for that—No. Bad Cam.
I had to focus.
“But the horses aren’t for profit, right? He said something about that.”
Saúl grimaced right away. Fuck. Was I not going to say the right thing even once?
“He hates it, but no, they’re not,” he clarified.
“Right now, our operation relies on something like sixty percent government funding, forty percent donors. And a few of them do get time with the horses. Keeping them happy means that if the government fucks us over, we can still keep the basics operational. Some of the horses have been through enough, or they’re too old or don’t have the muscles for riding, and they’re off limits, but others are in good shape, and so used to humans, they’re happy to take a few donors on a stroll.
I make the rules on who gets to ride who, though. ”
“That makes sense.” The mare he’d come to greet me on looked perfectly cared for at first glance.
I just didn’t know how to translate that sentiment without making it awkward or coming across as condescending.
The world sucked, and capitalism sucked even more, but people loved horses, and horses had been domesticated for so long that some argued they needed humans, too.
It would be different if he tried to tell me that they were offering up wolves or foxes or any other wild animal that still stood a chance at full freedom.
That reminded me… “What about the petting zoo? Your dad said he was looking into that.”
That part, I hadn’t loved.
Saúl looked like I’d just made him chew on a bitter lemon. “That’s going to be one hell of a headache, isn’t it?”
I winced. The microwave beeped and had the man moving to put the plate on the table next to me, fork included.
I should’ve sat down as soon as I got here, but in my defense, he hadn’t been sitting down. Now it was all just awkward.
“We had one at the zoo,” I spoke while pulling the chair out and then dragging it closer to the table.
The logic was that if I kept talking, he might not notice how all my movements were jerky and stilted because I never mastered the art of keeping it together in polite company.
“I didn’t love it. I mean, the people did?
And they left hefty tips, so if you’re desperate for money, it’s a good idea.
I think it stressed out the animals too much, though. ”
Their heart rate was always through the roof when I had to check them out after one of their scheduled visits, but none of the managers listened to me when I said a word about it.
“We’re not desperate for nothing,” he grumbled while picking a chair next to mine.
It was silly, but his breeches almost touched my knee.
I could feel the electricity there. It was almost enough to have me stand in attention—but that would’ve only made me look more tense.
“Da is just set on his ways to keep getting recognition and shit.”
I hummed. It was not my place to share my thoughts there. Even if I had a larger responsibility role than I was used to now, I was not part of the family, and this ran as a family business. There was also the fact that this was my first day, and I’d probably already said too much about how I felt.
There really was no way I’d get through the trial period, was there?
“Um. So what am I doing today? I mean, there weren’t any planes arriving earlier, it’s not that I didn’t want to work, and I don’t know what the schedules are because your dad said I should figure that out with my team, so maybe they’re still working? I could help around if I need to.”
“Did Da say you’re starting today?” Saúl frowned.
He had a tiny scar next to his left eyebrow.
I kind of wanted to touch it, which was a very weird thing, but it was close to a sun spot, and it was really distracting.
“My plan was to show you around and introduce you to the people. Speaking of, how’s your Spanish? ”
“Um.” Fuck. His father hadn’t said anything about languages. “Not good? I can order food. Kind of. If I’m not expected to answer back.”
Because priorities.
“You might want to check some classes during your free time.” Shockingly, Saúl sounded tired, but he didn’t sound as annoyed as I would’ve been if I’d been in his shoes.
“Some of the hands and the volunteers have either just moved in or they still struggle with it, especially if there’s an emergency. ”
Oh.
Oh. That was not good. The emergency part, I mean.
I needed all the facts if someone ran to me with an injured animal—if that was how it would go.
In the zoo, if something happened, we were called, and we were the ones to rush to the scene, which I thought was best, but maybe they worked differently here?
I really needed to talk with the other vet.
“Is the other vet bilingual? Or the techs?”
I wasn’t elitist. A tech had saved my ass more than once or twice. I actually hated the people who looked at them over their shoulders.
I only felt marginally better because the same discourse happened with doctors’ and nurses’ relations. Like, it obviously wasn’t great, but it made me feel better that it wasn’t an issue specific to my profession. Did that make sense? Maybe it only made me a worse person than I already was.
“Yep.” Saúl cracked his neck, and I pretended that it didn’t scare me, even though I’d never gotten rid of the irrational fear that came with the sound. “Most of the people working here are Latine. The ones who aren’t have grown up around us, so they picked up stuff quick.”
“Makes sense.” I had actually researched the area and read that almost a fourth of the population was of Latine descent—sure, it was said as a negative thing by fascists, but the percentages were there. “I’ll try to be a quick study.”
Apps had never worked for me when I tried using them, but maybe I could try some of those that connected you with a native speaker, and you paid by the hour.
I hadn’t been joking when I said the pay wasn’t great, but keeping in mind that boarding and food were included, and that I had no plans to leave this place, it wouldn’t be so terrible?
I hoped.
Saúl offered a wry chuckle. That tiny scar was still too noticeable. His face was too sun-kissed, too.
For fuck’s sake, I was already failing at the basics here. I didn’t move to the middle of nowhere to go on with my life as if nothing was different.
It was stupidly hard, but I forced my gaze down to the pie in front of me. I wasn’t sure what all it had inside, but it was yummy. Flavorful. Spicy, but not so spicy that my face got all red and I ended up crying.
“Can I have a map of the place, too? Clearly, my phone isn’t to be trusted, and the map in the website is very… cartoon-y.”
It was cute, but not helpful if I was to move around.
“You’ll get the lay of the land soon enough.”
I’d rather have the lay of the land before I had to rush to attend to some emergency of a lion cub dying, though. The website said they had just rescued a five-month-old lion. The post was dated for last month, so I imagined keeping the cub alive would fall on me.
Then again, they probably hadn’t introduced him yet to one of the habitats. So young? I’d keep him in the vet building for at least a couple more months before I started to slowly introduce him to the other African lions they had.
“Sure, but—”
“I’ll see what I can find.”
Fuck.
He really was going to hate my guts by the end of the week.
By the end of the day, really.