5. Candice
Chapter 5
I ’m in a daze as I check out. The receptionist is polite enough not to say anything about it though. She helps me set up a payment plan, and gets me set up on how to deal with Sunny’s remains; apparently they work with a crematorium now. Which almost sends me into a fit of inappropriate and hysterical giggles, but I think I’ve hit the mental capacity that if I don’t laugh I’ll cry. If I start that again, I don’t know when I’ll be able to stop.
I had a plan for today. Take Sunny to the vet, get him treated–since I was already out, take the car into the shop for an oil change, and while that was going on, go get a few groceries. I haven’t actually been in the store, and upon further reflection, they probably wouldn’t have been overly happy with my cart being full of cat carrier before I even started, but I guess that is a moot point now. My mind wanders, trying not to think too hard. I don’t think I am going to make that appointment at the shop. I should probably call them to reschedule.
Before I realize what‘s going on, I’m standing beside my car. I guess it is kind of a miracle that I wasn’t run over in the parking lot. No, wait, that's because of Stephanie, still right behind me. She hasn’t said anything, or if she did, I don’t remember.
“Hey, I think you need to come inside so we can call you a tow truck and the police.” Her voice snaps me out of my zombie state.
“Huh?”
“Looks like both your front tires are flat. Did you run over something on the way in?”
Fuck, I can’t deal with any more shit right now.
I walk around to the front of my car, and sure enough, both front tires are flat. The driver’s side at least has a large hole in the side of it–some asshole slashed my fucking tires. My mental state has gone from blank to rage like a switch was flipped. First, all this shit with my cat–cue the leaking eyes to start up again–now some asshole thinks it’s funny to do this shit.
What the actual fuck.
I turn to Stephanie, and she’s looking almost as upset as me. “Come inside, we can call that tow for you, and see if the security cameras for the lot recorded anything.” I follow her back inside seething, and the receptionist looks frustrated when I walk back in. Her pleasant mask slips a little before it settles back into place. Yes, I know I am a weepy mess, but now I am a pissed off weepy mess. Thank you .
Stephanie leads me back to the main office, and rolls a chair over for me to sit down beside a desk. “Be right back, I don’t usually deal with the security stuff, so I am not really sure where they keep the files. You can use this phone to call the tow truck while I go get someone who knows how to use this system.” Well, I guess I am going to the shop now regardless. Fuck, all I want at this point is to go home, hug Iggy, and burrow into my nest for the rest of the month.
I pull out my cell to look up the shop number, my mind going over all the other stuff I need to do when life gets derailed. I should probably post on my forum about Sunny. Let people know that things are going to be slow for a while. I’ll need to open up for more commissions to cover the cost of tires and his medical bills, even with the payment plan. This is all overwhelming and I bury my face in my hands, taking a couple of deep breaths to fortify my resolve.
Gotta do shit or shit won’t get done .
One of my grandpa's favorite sayings. I never realized how true it was until he passed. I pull up the search bar for the local garage I already had an appointment with. Hitting the call button, I’m already late for my appointment there–but hopefully they’ll understand.
The line finally connects, and I hear masculine voices in the background before, “Hello, Gabe’s Garage, how can I help you?” The voice is rough, and sounds a bit strained. “I’m sorry,” I reply, apologizing automatically. “I had a 3:30 appointment for an oil change and I’ve had a bit of an emergency.” I pause to breathe and figure out how to word my question about a tow-truck, I don’t speak to strangers often, and I get tongue tied easily.
“Yes ma’am and it is now 4:15, we are gonna need to reschedule you.” My brain short circuits at his words and I sit there gaping like a fish, hooked and dragged into the open air. “Ma’am…ma’am…are you still there?” But I can't seem to form a coherent thought, let alone a sentence.
Long fingers pluck my phone from my limp hand and hit the speaker button. “Hello, who is this?” says Dr. Leo.
“Leo? ‘S Gabe down at the garage, what's going on, man?”
“Gabe? Ok, yes, I’m going to need you to send the tow truck down to the clinic. One of our clients had their front tires slashed in the parking lot and while we still need to call the police, I don’t want this to wait until tomorrow.”
A warm hand lands on my shoulder and I flinch, but look up to see Stephanie. She’s always understood my need for personal space, but still needs to offer comfort. Her empathy is one of the things that make her a great vet.
“Nah man, no problem. Go ahead and get the cops down there, we close up in 45 minutes and I can come get it then if that works.” I hear typing in the background “This for Ms. Manning? She was supposed to be bringin’ it in for an oil change this afternoon, so I should have all her information. But, if she needs to leave before I get there, just be sure to get her keys.”
“Of course, thank you Gabe, I appreciate it. ”
A loud guffaw comes from the speaker. “Whatever, man, see you soon.”
The call disconnects and Dr. Leo sets my phone down beside me on the desk before pulling over his own office chair in front of the keyboard. He pulls a pair of thick black glasses out of his pocket, settles them across the bridge of his nose then starts to type. His fingers fly over the keys opening files and suddenly a video pops up on the screen. It’s the front parking lot, empty. He squints at the time stamp and drags the mouse across the desk. I watch cars arrive and leave in fast forward until I pull in.
He hits a button again and I watch the beginning of my panic attack from earlier. He glances over at me, and I think I see concern in his eyes before they flick back to the screen, back to fast forwarding but only at double normal speed. We watch people speed walk down the sidewalk, nothing really of note until an oversize pickup pulls in sideways behind me and blocks my car. The cameras are not angled to get a clear view of the driver, and when the truck moves later, my car is noticeably shorter.
“The hell?” a murmur from Stephanie. She’s not touching my shoulder anymore, but still standing behind me watching the screen intently. “Can we see any information on that truck? Do any of the other exterior cameras pick anything up?”
Dr. Leo looks over again, “I’ll check, if you can please go ahead and call the police. We don’t want to keep Ms. Manning here any longer than we have to, yes? ”
Stephanie raises one eyebrow at his stiff request. “Of course Dr. We wouldn’t want Ms. Manning to be here any longer than she needs to be.”
I remember her using this same voice in high school for being sneaky snarky. Then she looks down at me, “Candice, do you want me to call them for you, and then I can give you a ride home after they take your statement?”
Dr. Leo jerks his head towards Stephanie, eyes wide at her familiar tone. “We went to high school together. Candice was one of the few friends I had. Everybody else thought I was weird for talking to animals.”
The sad lilt to her voice makes my attention jump back to Stephanie; she’s looking at the floor intently. Suddenly I feel very guilty about cutting almost everyone out of my life when my designation came in. I have missed her, but she was always smiling and cheerful. I never thought she would miss me too. Her hand lands on my shoulder again and squeezes so I reach up to squeeze it back, an apology and a promise to do better. The corners of her lips tilt up in a sad smile.
“Go ahead and make the call. Do you want to hit the diner down the street with me for dinner and catch up before I take you home? I know you’ve had a rough day, but I’d be happy to just listen if you need someone to talk to.”
My own watery smile returns, “Sounds good. Let's get this over with.”
While we're talking, Dr. Leo slides a card across the desk to me for the sheriff's office. “We sometimes have to call in cases of suspected animal abuse. We need to keep their number handy,” he answers my unspoken question without looking back in my direction.