Ch. 49 – Layla
I n many ways, Layla’s last day at All Paws and Claws felt like all the others since she’d given her notice. Her heart struggled to balance the joy of greeting patients and their humans with the bone-deep melancholy of having Prem so close yet so impossibly far away.
Over the past two weeks, they’d developed an unspoken routine. He was polite, respectful, and professional to her. She responded with forced cheerfulness. But neither of them were good actors. Prem never smiled. Layla’s liting voice quivered every so often.
As the day slowly progressed, Layla’s gloom expanded, slowly seeping across her soul. She found herself lingering over the magazines in the waiting area and staring forlornly at the “Coffee. Because Murder Is Wrong” poster in the breakroom. Every time a patient and their human walked out the door at the end of an appointment, it felt like a punch.
She was leaving. Permanently. It almost didn’t feel real.
After a childhood filled with endless moves from one crappy apartment to another, All Paws and Claws had been Layla’s first real home. And Dr. Goldman had quickly turned into a father figure, filling a void in her soul she’d never realized was there before.
But Dr. Goldman was gone. And All Paws and Claws didn’t feel like her home anymore.
When the final hour of the day ticked over, Deja propped the front door open and grinned at Layla. Within minutes, people began to steam through the door. In amazement and with growing emotion, Layla greeted the Youngs, Mr. Lopez, Molly Sanderson and her two children, Mrs. Horner, the Gundersons, the family of Lucy the pig. Mrs. Moffat entered, her new poodle, Daisy, trotting by her side and proudly showing off a knitted orange and blue striped sweater. Even Jim McDonald strolled through the door, freshly shaved and washed after a full day on the farm.
Deja took Layla’s hand and led her to the back of the clinic, where streamers now hung from the ceiling of the breakroom along with a banner that read, “CONGRATULATIONS ON YOUR NEXT ADVENTURE.” A constellation of signatures and colorful pawprints covered the banner.
“We’ve been asking everyone who came in to sign for the past two weeks,” Deja gushed.
Layla felt…so much. Maybe too much. Happiness. Gratitude. Sorrow about leaving a place and all these people she held so dearly in her heart. The crowd packed the back area of the clinic, probably far exceeding the local fire code regulations.
“Thank you all,” Layla managed.
Someone cleared their throat. People turned. Sapphire the parakeet squawked.
Prem stood in a small gap of space at the very back of the crowd. Layla was surprised to see him at her goodbye party. Then again, attending was the polite, respectful, professional thing to do.
“Layla,” Prem spoke loudly so the crowd could hear. “When I first spoke with Mrs. Goldman about taking over All Paws and Claws, she told me you were the heart of the practice.”
He paused and looked down at a small, white-wrapped box in his hands. “I didn’t understand what she meant, not until I met you.” He looked up. Layla tried to meet his eyes, but he seemed to gaze through her. His face was a mask, the same hard, impenetrable mask he’d worn for the past two weeks.
“Now I understand,” he continued. “Layla, I want to thank you for the days you’ve brightened. For all the spirits you’ve lifted. For all the patients you’ve helped with a kind word or smile. Thank you for making All Paws and Claws a kinder, happier, better place.”
For a moment, his mask slipped. His eyes refocused. Met hers. “I’m honestly not sure how we’ll go on without you.”
“Maybe because you haven’t hired a replacement,” Kate called.
The tension broke. People laughed, then clapped. They parted as Prem walked toward her. Layla’s heart thudded in her chest. She could almost feel Prem’s presence, the heat of him, growing hotter and hotter with each step he took.
Then, he stood in front of her, holding out the box.
Swallowing, Layla accepted the gift and pulled apart the paper with shaking hands. Inside a thick cardboard box, sitting in a velvet cutout, she found a shining silver stethoscope with her name etched along the side in a pretty cursive font.
“It was Dr. Dhawan’s idea,” Deja hissed in her ear.
Layla looked up at him. “Thank you,” she whispered.
“It was from all of us,” he said softly.
And then, he was gone, ducking back through the crowd as people rushed up to wish her well, tell stories, press photos of their pets into her hands, and swallow her in hugs.
*
It was nearly 10 PM when Kate not-so-subtly “encouraged” the last party stragglers to hit the road. Layla gave the stern vet tech a grateful smile before sliding into a plastic chair. Her body felt heavy. Her soul was a tangled mess of feelings. Her eyes burned from too many happy/sad tears.
“You were a hug machine out there,” Kate said.
“Hugs are great,” Layla replied.
Kate looked at her dubiously. “If you say so.”
They were the only two left in the break room. Deja had cut out at 8 PM to relieve her babysitter, but not before releasing a waterfall of tears on Layla’s shoulder and crushing her in a rib-bruising hug.
Layla gathered dirty plates, crusty with crumbs and icing from the cake that had appeared an hour into the party. Her thoughts drifted through all the faces she’d seen tonight. So many people she loved and treasured. Even a few past clients she hadn’t seen in years. Her mind stopped at one face in particular.
Copper skin. Mahogany eyes with rings of gold at their center. A frown line forever etched between his brows. Thick, midnight hair never quite entirely tamed.
She remembered Prem’s words. I’m honestly not sure how we’ll go on without you.
Was he just being polite? Or had he meant those words? Could it be the first crack in the wall that she’d been so patiently waiting for? Was he finally ready to give them a second chance?
The scrape of metal against linoleum tile interrupted her thoughts. Layla glanced over her shoulder and saw Kate pull a chair beneath the banner. The older woman stepped up on the chair. “I’ll roll this banner up and put it with your other things.”
“Here, let me.” Layla dropped the plates in the trash and turned to help.
“No,” Kate said. “I’ll clean up. Go talk to Dr. Dhawan.”
“What?”
“Layla,” Kate met her gaze. “Go talk to Dr. Dhawan. Fix your shit. It’s been exhausting.”
Layla smiled. “I love you, too, Kate.”
“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” the other woman grumbled.
Layla turned and stared at the closed door of Prem’s office down the hall. Light shone through the crack beneath the door. He’d left the party immediately after presenting her with the gift.
Layla sighed. For the past two weeks, she’d given him space. She hadn’t pressed her case. Hadn’t cried or thrown tantrums. All she’d done was say, I love you , with her gaze whenever he’d entered the reception area. Except he never met her eyes.
I can’t keep waiting , Layla realized. That’s not what the heroes of her romance books did. After they made a mistake, they fought for their love. They performed a grand gesture to show that they’d changed, that they could be trusted with the heart of the one they’d hurt.
Layla’s feet began to move. She drifted closer and closer, and then her knuckles rapped on Prem’s door.
“Yes?” came his muffled voice.
Layla opened the door and stepped inside the office.
Prem sat at his desk, eyes sunken, hair mussed. He must have been raking his fingers through his locks like he did when he was tired or distracted.
“I’m…um, leaving,” Layla said, suddenly shy. Suddenly terrified.
“Okay. Well…” Prem didn’t finish the sentence. He wouldn’t look at her.
Layla’s heart ached. She felt his pain as if it were a physical substance pouring off him.
“Thank you for the gift,” she said. “Deja said it was your idea.”
“It was from all of us,” he repeated, still not meeting her eyes.
“You left the party early.”
“I needed to review patient files for tomorrow.”
The tablet between his elbows was asleep, the screensaver showing a meadow of horses.
Layla sucked in a frustrated breath. They were speaking words but saying nothing. Should she apologize again? Throw herself on her knees and beg for his forgiveness?
No. She’d already apologized. She’d already asked for his forgiveness. There was only one thing left to do.
Layla walked up to Prem’s desk. He watched her, his thick brows rising slightly. She reached forward and dragged the pad of Post-It notes across the desk toward herself. Then she dug into her purse.
Prem didn’t speak. He only watched.
It took a full minute of scrounging, but Layla finally pulled out her favorite cherry blossom sparkling gel pen. She bent over the pad and began to draw.
Having read hundreds of romance books, Layla knew grand gestures didn’t always need to be big and splashy. Sometimes the simplest words or the smallest gestures could hold the most meaning. The point was to be vulnerable. To give your whole entire heart to the one you loved with no expectations of anything in return.
Layla completed her drawing and pulled the Post-It note from the pad. Reaching forward, she pressed it onto Prem’s desk, right between his elbows.
“It's yours. For always,” she whispered.
Prem stared at the simple pink heart she’d drawn. “Layla…” the word trembled. “I can’t. I just…can’t. It hurts too much.”
Layla turned, retreated from the office, yanking the door hard behind her. Kate was gone, and the lights were off in the break room. Heart pounding, tears swimming in her eyes, Layla grabbed her box of possessions, the huge rolled banner now sticking up from a corner.
She half jogged to the back door, her foolish, idiotic heart still hoping for the sound of his steps running after her or his voice, crying a ragged Wait !
Nothing.
All Layla heard was the sound of her own creaking sandals and the fast drum of her pulse in her ears. She’d fought for Prem, the only way she knew how, with love.
And she’d lost.
Layla’s shoulders slumped as she turned the knob and left All Paws and Claws Clinic forever.