Ch. 12 – Layla
A slow, shy smile broke across Willow’s face as she waved the feather toy back and forth in the small play area. Blizzard watched the feather, mesmerized. The cat’s butt wiggled. Her tail flicked with excitement.
“That’s it,” Layla coached Willow. “Keep it moving.”
The red feather fluttered above Blizzard’s head, and the all-white cat pounced, snatching the feather from the air and slamming it to the ground.
“Oh!” Willow gasped, the wand clattering from her hand.
“That’s okay,” Layla reassured YHAR’s newest volunteer. “You can let her have the feather. You’ve been playing with Blizzard for almost 10 minutes now. Cats are sprinters, not marathoners, so short, energetic play sessions are fine.”
“She’s so powerful and graceful,” Willow said, her voice soft with awe.
“She is,” Layla agreed. “Go on and pet her. Blizzard is really friendly.”
Willow smiled again and lowered herself to the ground in the middle of the room. Slowly, she reached out her hand and touched the cat’s head. Blizzard froze for a moment, then continued chomping on the feather.
“She’s soft,” Willow murmured as she began stroking the cat’s head.
“Uh-huh.” Layla nodded from her position on a bench against the wall of the room. “By petting her, you’re helping Blizzard continue to feel comfortable around humans. Well-socialized cats make for better pets and are returned far less often after adoption. So, it may not seem like much, but you’re really helping a lot.”
Willow’s smile grew, lighting up her face. Layla wished she could tell the younger woman how beautiful she looked when she wasn’t trying to hide behind her waterfall of black hair.
Take it slow, Layla told herself. Cats possessed an infinite number of personalities and so did humans. Willow reminded Layla of the shell-shocked strays that were sometimes brought into the shelter. These cats had never experienced human contact and needed slow, persistent, and gentle care. They required buckets of patience, unyielding love, and a thousand tiny steps toward connection.
But it usually worked.
I will give you buckets of patience, Layla vowed to the young woman sitting on the floor. I will give you unyielding love, and I will take a thousand tiny steps to show you that the world isn’t a terrifying, bad place.
As if she could feel the force of Layla’s thoughts, Willow glanced over her shoulder. Her cocoa eyes landed on Layla’s left hand and danced away.
It felt like a roundhouse kick to the solar plexus. The wound of Cal’s betrayal hadn’t even begun to crust over. Instead, it oozed and pussed inside of Layla, radiating heat. The injury was so big, so deep, that she couldn’t force herself to get anywhere near it, much less start soaking up the blood and begin stitching the ragged edges together.
So, over the long, dark weekend, she’d done the only thing she could. Fiercely ignored the whole situation and refused to answer any of Cal’s frantic texts, calls, and emails. He’d even driven to her mother’s house and banged incessantly at the door. Alanna had sent him away, shockingly still breathing, while Layla had curled on the couch and stared unseeing at the wall.
Willow didn’t comment on the lack of a ring. In fact, the manic Crazy Cat Lady text chain had gone eerily silent. Layla could only conclude that a new text chain had been assembled, sans her, and Alanna was keeping the other women updated on the situation. It’s what she would have done in Alanna’s place.
“How is working with the new vet?” Willow asked into the spooling silence.
Layla suddenly felt so tired. The effort of ignoring the Cal situation felt like holding back a crumbling levy with an entire angry ocean heaving behind it. She tried to focus on Willow’s question.
The new vet.
She pictured Dr. Dhawan with his stern glare and the lightning clouds he seemed to drag into every room.
“It’s different,” she said carefully. “The new vet is…” She closed her eyes and tried to be nice. Really, realllllly fudging tried. “He’s motivated. Very organized. And a complete jerk face!”
Layla gasped and slapped a hand over her mouth as Willow giggled at her uncharitable outburst. Layla started laughing too.
“Oh, Willow, he’s the worst!” she confessed. This morning he’d nearly caught onto her completely justifiable fib about Ms. Fiddlesticks. Then he’d turned her cheerful and funny re-opening announcement into a bone-dry missive. He’d even scared the crud out of Deja just for arriving a few minutes late.
And that was only the beginning.
Layla sighed. “He cut my hourly wage by 20%.”
“Oh no!” Willow said as Blizzard released a soft purr.
“And he was so darn professional about it,” Layla groaned as she slumped against the wall. During her “employee evaluation” earlier in the day, he’d stared her down from the other side of his desk.
She’d smiled.
He’d frowned.
In that flat, I’m-the-boss-of-the-universe voice of his, he’d explained that she’d been extremely overpaid for her position. He’d even shown her charts from salary job sites to prove it.
“Are you going to quit?” Willow asked, her liquid eyes affixed to Layla.
Layla bit the side of her cheek. “It would serve him right if I did.” She sighed. “But no.”
All Paws and Claws felt more like a home than her actual house, now more than ever. Kate and Deja were her sisters in arms. Their customers and patients were her extended family. Someone had to hold that family together, and it certainly wasn’t going to be Dr. “Show Me the Money” Dhawan.
And, if she were being brutally honest, she needed the paycheck. Truth was, Layla had little in the way of savings, and her retirement account was paltry. While Cal covered their mortgage and car payments, she’d always insisted on paying the utilities and insurance with her earnings. And with her sister now earning less, Layla had also stepped up in helping to cover her mother’s mortgage. Then, there were all the charities she donated to on a monthly basis. Layla had never worried about spending the majority of her money each month. After all, she’d always assumed Cal would take care of her.
…Until now.
“Well, Joey thought Edwin was really mean when she met him,” Willow was saying.
“Who?” Layla tried to refocus.
“Edwin, from The Billionaire’s Dilemma,” Willow explained. Blizzard rolled onto her side, looking for more pets. “He was so cold and uncaring. He even fired that poor security guard until Joey convinced him to rehire the man.” Willow scratched Blizzard’s cheek. “Joey despised him, but then she met his alcoholic mother and found out that his father was out of the picture for most of his life. She gained context. Edwin had to be tough from a young age. He had to close off his feelings just to survive.”
Layla sighed. “Willow, that’s only a story, and just because someone had a tough childhood doesn’t mean they get to be a bully for the rest of their lives.” She actually hadn’t started reading the book. What was there to look forward to when the male protagonist was a big meanie?
“Keep socializing Blizzard, and I’ll go clean her litter box,” Layla said, standing. “Then I’ll introduce you to Sabretooth. Don’t be fooled by the name. He’s the sweetest chonk of a cat you’ll ever meet.”
“Okay.”
Layla opened the door to the playroom and stepped out.
“Layla,” Willow called after her.
Layla looked over her shoulder. Willow’s lovely dark eyes seemed to pierce right through her. “You’re stronger than you know.”
Willow dropped her gaze and quickly performed the strange movement, touching her thumbs against the tips of each of her fingers.
“Thank you.” Layla forced a smile before shutting the door. If only that were true, she added silently before walking away.
*
“What an utter slimeball!” Layla hissed, dropping The Billionaire’s Dilemma onto the floor next to the couch.
She’d managed to slog through a single chapter, and it’d been a struggle from page one. Edwin Burke was such a sleaze bag! Just because Joey had accidentally tripped and sent a dozen eggs splattering across his expensive shoes at a farmer’s market, he’d threatened to get her meager stand banished from the market.
Layla admired the way Joey had stood up to the pompous big wig, not backing down in the face of his threats and calling him out for his atrocious behavior. Apparently, Edwin had been impressed, too. The chapter had ended with him flicking his business card at Joey and instructing her to show up for a job interview on Monday morning.
How in the heck were these two supposed to get together? Why would someone as fierce and brave as Joey ever fall for such a meanie-face grumpus like Edwin?
“Meow!” Garbo complained next to her side.
“Right.” Layla had paused in her petting duties, and Garbo wasn’t having any of it. Layla resumed stroking the cat. She looked to the end of the couch where Garland sat primly on the armrest.
“You want in on this, Garland?” she asked the calico.
Garland turned her head away.
Typical. Layla glanced back down at the book. Should she read another chapter or go to bed? Layla shivered. No bed. Not yet. She glanced around the silent living room and pulled the blankets further up her chest.
Why did Alanna always manage to win the What-Are-We-Watching-Tonight game?
When Layla had returned home from volunteering this evening, she’d wanted nothing more than to collapse on the couch and watch old Friends reruns with her mom. Alanna had other ideas. Instead of watching Chandler, Rachel, and Ross try to “PIVOT!” a couch up an impossible stairway, they’d instead been subjected to the glamorized gore, murder, and revenge of a Forensic Files marathon.
Hadn’t helped that Alanna had mercilessly critiqued each murderer’s futile attempt to cover up their crimes or cackled delightedly at their flimsy alibis. Alanna and their mother had retreated to their bedrooms hours ago, but Layla was wide awake and seriously considering muddling through another chapter of a book she loathed just for an excuse not to close her eyes.
Garbo’s rumbling purr eased Layla’s worries. “You wouldn’t be so relaxed if there was a serial murderer slinking in the shadows, right?” Layla whispered to the tiny tabby. Garbo yawned, her purr interrupted for just a moment.
Layla glanced at the book again. There was another option. She shivered. It had nothing to do with serial killers, but the alternative wasn’t a whole lot better.
She could finally talk to Cal.
Layla pulled her knees to her chest. Why couldn’t she be brave and strong like Joey? Why couldn’t she just say what she really felt, damn the consequences?
Alanna made it look so easy. But Layla had never been strong like her sister.
Hauling in a deep breath, she unlocked her phone. The screen was filled with texts from Cal.
Luv u so much, babe! [Heart emoji] [Heart emoji] [Heart emoji]
Pls come home!!! [Heart emoji] [Sad face emoji]
Miss u. Want u here. When r u coming home?
Stop playing games.
Sold the last car. Got the bonus! Can’t wait to take u out on the jet ski.[Heart emoji] [Bathing suit emoji]
Been thinking of u all day. [Heart emoji]
Talk to me, Babe!!!
And on and on.
Layla needed to reply. In spite of everything, Cal deserved that much. But what would she say? Were they over for good, or was there some faint path—long and winding—to forgiveness and reconciliation? Shouldn’t she know the answer? Shouldn’t she know her own heart? But she didn’t. It all just hurt so much.
Layla swiped out of her texts and pulled up her emails. Again, Cal had flooded her inbox. Squished between his all-caps subject lines, she noted the new employment contract Dr. Dhawan had sent through. Layla ignored it. She’d sign it tomorrow at work.
Her eyes skimmed a few junk emails and danced away from three separate wedding-themed newsletters from her favorite bridal sites. Her gaze snagged on an email that had come in two days ago.
There’s Still Time to Sign up for the Yucca Hills Trail-a-Thon!!!
Layla clicked on the email and scrolled through the list of races: half-marathon, full marathon, ultra marathon. She’d run the Yucca Hills Trail half-marathon the past three years in a row. The 13.1-mile race had always given her an excuse to increase her mileage and train for something. She’d enjoyed the excitement of race day, the chance to push herself to her limit and cross the finish line.
She hadn’t signed up this year, though, for one important reason.
Join us on Sept 8th, the email said.
Sept 8th, her wedding day.
Not anymore.
The thought hit Layla like a boxing glove filled with cement. She wasn’t getting married on September 8th. There’d be no dress, no flowers, no cake, no Prince Charming.
A sob hiccupped in her chest, but Layla forced it down. No more tears, she told herself. Instead, she refocused on the email. Maybe this was fate. Maybe running the half-marathon would help occupy her mind on what was sure to be a bitter day.
Her thumb hovered over the half-marathon sign-up button.
Her phone jumped in her palm and belted out Endless Love.
The ringtone she’d chosen for Cal.
Garbo sprinted off her lap.
Layla stared at her phone. She should have blocked Cal days ago. Joey wouldn’t have taken the call. Alanna would have accepted it, hung up, and laughed.
Layla hit the green accept button. Weak, she thought to herself even as she put the phone up to her ear.
“Babe?” Cal said, “Oh thank God you picked up. I’ve been so worried about you.” The words rushed out from the phone, fast and polished. “I’ve been thinking about you every second of every day. I feel so terrible about everything. And I just want the chance to explain. For us to talk. I really think you’ll feel so much better when we talk.”
Did the man even breathe?
“Babe. Rapunzel. I love you so much. Say something,” Cal crooned into the phone.
“No wedding.” Layla’s voice trembled, the words barely making it through her tightened throat.
“Huh?”
“I can’t marry you.”
“Oh.” The line went silent for a moment before Cal recovered. “Of course, I understand. We’ll postpone. Happens all the time. We can say a family member is sick.”
She hadn’t said postpone, but she didn’t correct him.
“I want to meet. Talk in person,” Cal continued. “Please come home, Rapunzel. I know I can make you understand. We can get through this.”
Layla opened her mouth. “How long.”
“What?”
Her heart folded in on itself in her chest. She didn’t want to know. She had to know.
“How long were you cheating on me, Cal?” Her voice was a whisper.
“Why does that matter?” he sputtered.
So, that long, she thought. “Were there others? Besides Breanna?”
Pause.
“NO! Of course not,” Cal bellowed.
But he’d paused. Just a microsecond. It was enough.
“Goodbye, Cal.” She hung up, cutting off the stream of words spilling from the other end of the line.
Layla dropped the phone on the couch like it was acid. Her emotions churned. She didn’t want to cry. Didn’t want to think.
But what she did want to do was run.
Endless Love erupted from her phone. Layla ignored it as she dug into her suitcase. She put on a pair of fresh socks, then shoved her feet into her running shoes. In her matching cotton PJ boxer shorts and tank top, she slipped out of the house.
Even without the evening’s Forensic Files gorefest, she would never normally think of running alone at night, even in the relative safety of her mother’s neighborhood. Tonight, Layla didn’t give it a passing thought. As soon as she walked down the stairs of the porch, her feet started moving.
Layla didn’t ease into a steady pace.
She ran. Her feet pounded hard on the pavement. Her arms pumped fiercely at her sides, and her braid swung back and forth like a heavy metronome.
No heart-warming affirmations eased her soul. All she had was pain and heartbreak growling at her heels. If she could only go a little faster, maybe she could outrun them.
Minutes bled together. Layla ran a lap around the neighborhood. Then another. Her breath punched from her lungs in ragged gasps. Nights in Southern California were chilly even in the summer, but she didn’t feel the cold. Instead, sweat trickled down the back of her neck, and her tank top stuck to her shoulder blades.
Another lap around the neighborhood. Her heart clamored in her chest. Her quads cried. Layla didn’t care. The pain in her heart still burned hotter than anything she felt in her body.
She ran, and she ran, and she ran, until her calf seized up, and she staggered, crumpling ungraciously onto Mr. Frederick’s lawn a block from her mother’s house. Gasping for breath, sweat dripping down her face, Layla slowly wobbled to her feet. Her quads screamed, but her soul felt calm.
Empty.
How many laps had she run around the neighborhood? Three? Four? She’d probably polished off five or six miles.
Layla laughed as she gingerly limped up the driveway of her mother’s house. Her thighs had chafed on the cotton shorts, and her breasts were sore from running without a sports bra. But the run had been exhilarating.
An idea came to Layla as she gripped the railing and pulled herself up the porch. As soon as she made it inside, Layla picked up her phone. Ignoring the six missed calls from Cal, she pulled up the Yucca Hills trail race email again. She scrolled past the half-marathon and stared at the marathon sign-up button.
Could she really do it?
A full marathon?
A text message pinged through from Cal.
Babe, u r being so immature about this. Pick up t phone.
Something dark and exhilarating pulsed through her. She scrolled past the marathon to the last option on the race list.
Individual Ultra-Marathon Sign-Up.
Layla smiled and hit the button.