Chapter 44 Danny
Danny
July
After ten years apart, a few months together hasn’t been nearly enough. I know I’m making the right choice in retiring, because I’m dreading the end of this offseason.
Gracie and I are just trying to savor every last moment before I leave for training camp tomorrow.
We start by spending our morning outside, lounging on Mom’s cherrywood stained deck.
Before she left to shoot a wedding today, she waggled her eyebrows in a not-so-subtle way and said, “I figured I need the practice, if ya’ know what I mean.
” Gracie beamed, and I couldn’t help but smile, too.
I feel like I’m discovering new things about her every day, like she’s someone I just met. Yet, sometimes, it’s like no time has passed at all.
We sit in padded wicker chairs. Given the heat, I’m not wearing a shirt, and Gracie’s in a sports bra and cotton shorts. I open up the bags of food we ordered, ready to devour the Greek salads and salty fries.
She squints at the bag and then at me. “Why are there two orders of fries in here?”
I roll my eyes. “Gracie. Not this again. You get your own because you eat all of mine.”
She huffs. “When? That doesn’t sound like me.”
“I’d prove it, but the evidence is gone,” I say flatly.
She eats a couple of her fries and frowns. “These don’t taste as good as when I steal them from you.”
“Jesus Christ, here. Take my fries, you maniac.” I aggressively shove them over to the side table next to my chair, and she happily starts devouring them.
I take a long sip of the iced tea we made yesterday.
It’s the lemony powdered kind that you have to stir in, and we’re drinking it out of cups covered in watermelon print.
Everyone knows that you must drink the tea out of a thick plastic cup filled with ice.
It’s practically codified in the Ohio state constitution.
“Look inside this cup, Gracie. You can still see a red-stained rim from all the Kool-Aid we drank in our youth.”
She giggles, craning her neck for a better look. “Ah, yes. Fruit punch is to plastic cups as spaghetti sauce is to Tupperware. It’s just never going to come out.”
I bark out a laugh. “You’re the funniest person I know.”
She blushes in response, her face turning the same shade of pink as her painted toenails.
God, I’m going to miss her.
Both of us support each other’s dreams wholeheartedly. Unlike last time, we’ve been creating concrete plans to make it work. Long distance during the upcoming season with visits sprinkled in, and me in Ohio full-time after retirement next year. Every day and every night.
“When do you have to leave for work?” Her clinic is open one Sunday per month, and Gracie pushed her patients to later this afternoon to allow for extra time together.
She groans and climbs out of her deck chair and onto mine, straddling my lap and burrowing her face in my neck. I love the feel of her body against mine.
“Far too soon.” Her lips move against my skin as she speaks.
I chuckle and trail my fingers down her back, rubbing gently back and forth across her spine. “It isn’t goodbye. We’ll talk every day, and we already have the next six months’ worth of visits planned. Think about it this way: when I officially retire next year, I’ll be here permanently.”
“Are you still coming to the clinic to say goodbye?”
“I wouldn’t miss it. I won’t have a ton of time, but I should be there after I finish packing.”
She pulls back and squeezes her eyes shut. “I love you.”
I lean forward and stroke her chin. “Hey.” I give each eyelid a light kiss. “I love you, too.”
With that, we head into the house and get ready for the day. Gracie pulls on her scrubs, and I start packing my belongings. Whatever I can’t fit in my suitcase will be shipped to Brooklyn.
I open the dresser drawers in my bedroom, pulling out clothes I brought with me that I’ll need at home.
I grab my hairbrush and wallet from on top of the dresser before wandering over to my nightstand and pulling it open.
I grin when I see my old walkie-talkie sitting on top of a tin of expired mango sour Altoids.
Here, Gracie. I asked my mom for walkie-talkies for my birthday.
I call the red one!
Of course you’d say that. You always want anything red, like your hair.
I toss it in my bag. It’s coming with me.
“I’ll be back in about ten minutes, give or take,” I tell the rideshare driver through the car window. Opening the door to her clinic, I’m greeted by Hannah’s smiling face. Now that the staff knows me, the conversation flows easily.
“Dan! Hi, how’s it going?” Hannah waves from behind the front desk.
Sauntering over to say hello, I rest my hands on the desk and drum my fingers. “It’s going alright. How are you?”
“Terrible! Thanks for asking,” Hannah replies.
Laughing, I ask, “Why are you terrible?”
“Ugh, don’t even get me started.” Hannah leans closer like she wants to tell me a secret. “This lady, Mrs. Hale, brings an animal psychic to every appointment so that her cat’s ‘needs are vocalized.’ But the ‘needs’ are always just billing complaints. She’s back there now,” she warns, shuddering.
“Yikes. You want me to talk some sense into her? Anything I can do?” I ask jokingly.
Hannah laughs. “No, you’ll only make it worse.”
“That is absolutely accurate. And, unfortunately, I don’t have a lot of time. Do you mind paging my girlfriend to let her know I’m here?”
“Sure thing. It shouldn’t be too long.” She presses a few buttons on the intercom system.
“Great, thanks.” I plop down on the nearest waiting room couch and pull out my phone from my pocket. I’m scrolling through sports news headlines when Hannah says, “Daisy, right?”
A golden retriever barks as an older woman with graying brown hair walks out from the back area to the front desk. “Oh, I see here you’re a member of the Charger Program, so you’re all set!” Hannah says cheerfully.
I lock my phone and sit up straighter. Did she just say what I think she said?
“Thank you so much; have a great day.” Hannah waves goodbye as the woman and her golden leave the clinic.
I take a moment to gather my thoughts before heading back up to reception. Hannah glances up from her computer. “I think Dr. Sinclair is on her last patient before lunch. Do you need something?”
“No, no. I just had a question for you.”
“For me? Sure.”
I drum my fingers on the desk. “I might’ve misheard something while I was camped out over there. Did you mention a program named ‘Charger?’”
Hannah nods and pulls out a brochure from the wall rack.
Handing me the pamphlet, she explains, “It’s been around since we first opened.
Pet owners who need financial assistance can apply for the program.
If they’re accepted, Dr. Sinclair does preventative care and in-office procedures pro bono.
Honestly, she never declines an applicant. ”
She continues talking, but all I can focus on is the brochure in my hands, or more specifically, the logo on the front—an outline of a chocolate labrador. The lab has a collar that says “Charger Program” on it.
I interrupt Hannah as gently as possible. “You’ve been incredibly helpful. I’m actually going to wait in her office to read this, if that’s okay.”
She gives me a questioning look but buzzes me through.
I glance out the window to make sure the rideshare driver is still waiting before hustling down the hallway for some privacy.
Gracie’s office smells like her, but not even that can distract me from this news.
I sit on the squeaky office chair behind her desk to process everything.
If she created this program when her clinic opened, it’s been a few years now.
All this time, she was thinking of me, just like I was thinking of her, both of us weaving little pieces of each other into the fabric of our lives. I gently unfold the brochure Hannah gave me. Happy, drooly dogs are on every page, alongside the chocolate lab logo.
“Fucking Mrs. Hale,” Gracie mutters, walking into her office. “Agh! What are you doing in here?”
“I’m sorry for startling you.”
Gracie studies me as a tiny pinch forms between her brows, visibly confused. “What’s wrong?”
I slowly lift my hand, facing the brochure out.
Her eyes widen. “Where did you…?”
“Hannah.” I shrug, ducking my chin to better view her expression. “Is it… It’s for our Charger, right?”
Gracie slowly nods, taking the brochure from me and setting it on her desk. We both move to hug each other at the same time and collide in a hard embrace. We softly sway together for a few moments.
Holding her tightly, I admit, “Sometimes, when I used to dream about us getting back together, just like this, I’d think, maybe she’s thinking of me, too. But I’d dismiss it, Gracie. I never thought you…”
“I was always thinking of you,” she whispers.
Breathing in her coconut and vanilla scent, I find myself transported back to high school. I lean away slightly to kiss the side of her nose. I knew that Gracie cared for me, but to have proof that she loved me—as more than just a memory—even when I wasn’t with her nearly brings me to my knees.
Our fingers intertwine as we walk to the car waiting in front of her clinic. Stopping just outside the door, we turn to face each other. She tilts her chin up in question, and I answer with my lips, pressing mine to hers in a quick kiss.
“Hey, Danny?”
“Yeah, Gracie?”
“I’d say ‘be safe,’ but you’re not driving, so you should be fine.” She winks.
I flip her off before giving her a final hug, one that best friends and lovers give. There are only four parting words left to say, and I murmur them into her hair.
“First love, last love.”