Chapter 44
You’re going to be okay now
I wouldn’t call what I did for the next several days living – just surviving.
Barely. I went through the motions: moving into a hotel, finding a small cottage to rent, keeping my promise to try.
And it all taught me one very valuable lesson: trying is exhausting.
Particularly when you’re going it alone without the support of the one person in the world you want at your side.
Walks aren’t the same without someone to hold your hand.
Nights are lonely without the one you love holding you tight.
For the last time, I wake up in my tiny hotel room, the sheets on the right side of the bed cold and empty. Again. I don’t allow myself to dwell on it; I’ve done enough wallowing the past few days, so I pull myself up and get ready for another day.
I spend time on my hair and make-up, trying to convince myself that I’m doing it for me and no one else, and get dressed. I have one last check to make sure everything is packed. My meagre number of possessions are boxed up and ready to move to my new ‘home’.
Or I could move them back to my actual home – with Connor? The urge is overwhelming, but I resist for the greater good. I haven’t even messaged him since the morning after our last night together. I don’t trust myself not to tell him I’ve changed my mind and beg him to take me back.
Putting the thought out of my mind as best I can, I head down to the dining room for breakfast. During my first couple of days here, I skipped breakfast – too afraid to eat alone.
But, with some moral support from Natalie, I managed to face my fears, and remind myself: I didn’t die, I didn’t crumble, I can do hard things.
As soon as my plate is cleared, I pack up my car and head out. The silence of the drive only adds to my feeling of loneliness, and I pray for some sort of distraction from the void Connor’s absence has left in my life and my heart.
Just as I’m considering calling him, if only to hear his voice for a few seconds, a streak of brown fur darts in front of my car, causing me to swerve up the kerb.
I stop just before hitting a lamppost. Ears ringing, heart pounding, hands trembling, I fling myself out of the car to check on the cause of the accident.
The culprit sits shaking behind a collection of bins, head hung low, eyeing me warily. His – or her? – fur clings to a body showing off each rib in sickening detail. Instantly, I forget about my own state of shock and focus all of my energy on the beautiful, terrified boxer dog in front of me.
I crouch low and slowly reach out my hand, leaving enough space between us so he doesn’t feel threatened, and wait.
Seconds pass while the dog seems to question whether or not I’m trustworthy, then tentatively sticks out his nose and sniffs my hand.
Apparently deciding I’m safe, he moves to sit in front of me and laps eagerly at my empty hand.
Glancing down, I notice the boxer is, in fact, a female.
“You hungry, sweetheart?” I ask her softly, not wanting to scare her off. A quick scan of her body shows no obvious injuries, though she’s severely malnourished, and there’s no collar around her neck. “Well, I can’t leave you here alone in your state. Come on.”
I rise to my feet slowly, careful not to scare her, and open my car door.
The dog bounces inside with a wag of her tail, and I settle in beside her, offering her the banana I pilfered from the hotel earlier.
The fruit doesn’t even touch the sides, but at least she’s had something to keep her going until I can find out where she belongs.
Deciding my best bet is to check if she’s microchipped, I find the closest vet on my phone and drive over. It doesn’t take long to find out she’s not chipped and hasn’t been reported missing.
“The poor girl’s probably been abandoned,” the vet says. “Boxers need a lot of exercise, and her owners more than likely weren’t able to manage her. What are you planning on doing with her?” He stares at me expectantly.
“I… I don’t really know. What are the options?”
“Well, we could take her and hand her over to a rescue service where she might be adopted…”
‘Might’? That doesn’t sound promising.
“Or…” he adds with a mischievous grin, “you could take her with you now and cut out the middleman.”
“Me?” I blink at him. “I’ve never owned a dog in my life, I wouldn’t know where to start. I’m not really in the best position to be taking on a dog right now…”
But before I can finish my thought, the vulnerable dog in front of me sits up and stares into my eyes, into my very soul, and all I see is unconditional love. I could use some of that right now. And I know that, if he were here, Connor would be encouraging me to say yes.
“Okay,” I sigh, resigned. “I’ll take her. I imagine I’m going to need a lot of stuff to take care of her properly?”
The vet smiles. “I’ll have a nurse put a starter pack together for you. On the house.”
Twenty minutes later, I’m leaving the clinic with a new friend and a box brimming with products I’ll need to look after her properly: lead, flea and worm medications, food, brush and, my favourite part, a brand-new pink collar with a shiny tag engraved with her new name.
“Well, Milady,” I say to her as she happily joins me in the car once again. “It’s you and me now. We’re going to look after each other, okay?”
Milady, named after my favourite book character – brave, loyal and a little misunderstood – gives a soft howl in response.
“You’re going to be okay now. We both are.”