“Ruby.” Celeste's voice was gentle, cutting through the static in her head. “Come here.”
She reached over and took her hand, threading their fingers together. The touch was grounding and it anchored Ruby back to the present moment.
Ruby stared at their joined hands and it felt right in a way that made her chest ache. Natural, like they'd been doing this for years instead of barely knowing each other.
“Tell me something,” Celeste said. “Distract me from the fact that we're now emotionally invested in a sparrow named Sparkle.”
Despite the situation, Ruby laughed. “What do you want to know?”
“Anything. Tell me about your weirdest rescue.”
“Oh okay.” Ruby settled back, trying to focus on the story instead of the anxiety churning in her gut. Celeste's hand was still in hers, and she used that as an anchor. “So there was this raccoon in Chicago. Someone called me because it had gotten into their garage and wouldn't leave. I showed up, and this raccoon—I swear to God—had figured out how to open their mini-fridge and was eating leftover Chinese food.”
“No.” But Celeste was smiling, and Ruby felt some of the tension within her ease.
“Yes. Sitting there with a container of lo mein, just going to town and using its little hands to grab the noodles. And when I tried to catch it, it hissed at me like I was the one being unreasonable for interrupting its meal.”
Celeste's laugh was bright and surprised, musical in a way that made Ruby want to keep talking just to hear it again. “What did you do?”
“I waited it out. Eventually it got full and sleepy, and I was able to relocate it to a park. But not before it stole an egg roll for the road. Just grabbed it and waddled off into the night like some kind of bandit.”
She told more stories after that, ranging from a possum that had somehow gotten stuck in a drainpipe to the hawk that had attacked her while she was trying to help it.
Time moved differently like this, measured not in minutes but in shared laughter and the thrill of their physical contact. Ruby liked the way Celeste’s eyes sparkled as she paid attention to the best parts of a story, the way she used her free hand to gesture as she asked curious questions.
The door swung open again. Dr. Zimmerman had changed out of his surgical gear, and he was smiling.
Ruby's heart gave a hopeful lurch. A smile was good.
“The surgery was a success,” he announced.
Ruby and Celeste were on their feet in an instant.
“She'll need time to recover,” Dr. Zimmerman continued, but Ruby barely heard the words over the rushing in her ears. “At least a week, maybe two. But the wing should heal. With proper rehabilitation, there's a good chance she'll fly again.”
“Yes!” Ruby threw her arms up, pumping her fists in the air. “Sparkle's going to make it!”
Celeste let out a whoop that was so uncharacteristically loud and joyful that both Ruby and Dr. Zimmerman stared at her. She pressed a hand to her mouth, eyes wide, like she'd surprised herself with the sound.
Then she did it again, louder this time, her face breaking into a grin so wide it hurt.
Ruby joined in, and suddenly they were both whooping in the middle of a veterinary waiting room, jumping and laughing like kids who'd just won something important. Dr. Zimmerman watched them with bemused affection, his smile growing.
“I'll need your contact information,” he said once they'd calmed down enough to hear him. “For when she's ready to be picked up.”
Ruby scribbled down her number and email with shaking hands, her whole body still thrumming with relief and joy. “I'll come back for her. I promise. I don't care where I am, I'll come back.”
“I believe you.” Dr. Zimmerman shook both their hands with a firm grip. “It's rare to see people care this much about a wild bird. Sparkle's lucky you found her.”
“I’m lucky too, to have found her,” Ruby said, and meant it.
Outside, the afternoon sun was warm on her face. She felt lighter than she had in months, as if something heavy had been lifted from her chest and she could float away if she wasn't careful.
They headed toward the car, still giddy with relief. Ruby couldn't stop smiling, bursts of contentment fizzing through her veins like champagne bubbles.
“I can't believe that worked,” Celeste said. “Given the way he was talking, for a moment there I imagined the worst.”
“I know. Me too. But Sparkle’s going to be okay and she’ll fly again.”
