I nodded again as she pushed a needle into Sybil’s arm, administering something.
“To help her calm.” She’d seen the question on my face. “She’ll be out for a while, and groggy when she wakes, but it’ll help her body heal from the shock. Are you her husband, boyfriend, or brother?”
I nearly choked, fumbling with what to say. I wanted to stay with her and not get kicked to the waiting room.
“Husband,” I blurted.
She eyed me. “And yet you appeared from across the street with another woman?”
I gave her a challenging glare. “That was my sister.”
She looked me up and down. “Okay.Husbandit is.”
I could tell she didn’t believe me, especially where neither of us had a ring.
“Convenient as she’ll need you to stay with the dog at the hospital until she wakes. Service dog or not, he needs a conscious guardian—not a knocked out one.”
I nodded, giving her a grin that I hoped conveyed my thanks.
“I’ll make sure and tell them that when we arrive. It’ll buy you some time, at least.”
“Thank you,” I added.
She smiled. “Don’t let me regret allowing the concession.”
At the hospital, I followed the EMT and hospital staff out of the ambulance. She explained to the staff that Sybil’s condition was stable, and that Bill was a service dog. They ushered me in after them, and we made our way into a room.
I did my best to stay out of the way, pulling Bill into a corner. Mr. Beans was under my arm like a football, keeping relatively silent. A nurse came in with a clipboard, asking me several questions I didn’t have answers to. I felt ashamed and nervous they’d kick me out, but it seemed Bill remained my golden ticket—that, and I was pretty sure no one wanted to deal with the cat.
As things settled, I finally sat in a chair beside Sybil’s bed, alone with two animals and the sound of beeping. Sybil was still asleep, eyes closed. Nurses had cleaned her face of soot and wrapped her in fresh blankets. Her breathing was raspy but steady.
I couldn’t help but devour every detail of her face. Her small nose was peppered with a few light freckles. Thick, dark lashes rested against her cheeks, which were red and ravaged by heat. Her heart-shaped coral lips looked chapped, but still beautiful.
Her ears were free of piercings, a detail I found interesting. There wasn’t a single female I could think of without pierced ears. Her hair looked matted from the water and soot. A nurse had tucked it behind her in a braid, ash dulling its usual bright luster.
Her hands rested at her sides. Nails and fingers still held traces of soot and ash. I couldn’t help reaching out to touch her with my cat-free hand. Bandages crisscrossed her arms where Mr. Beans had dug into her, and I made a note to figure out how to trim his nails so the same wouldn’t happen to me.
The little ball under my arm started rumbling then, its needle-like claws pushing through the sweatshirt and into my sidein a kneading motion—as though on cue. He was purring. I winced, but allowed it, happy he was feeling content. I sat back and let Mr. Beans play bakery with my kidney.
An hour passed when a woman poked her head in, carrying a kennel.
“Hello,” she whispered with a smile.
She had a colorful set of scrubs on. There were cats and dogs running across them in a cheerful pattern. She must have been the vet.
“I’m Allison. I was told to check on a dog and a cat?” Her eyes questioning, wondering where the cat was.
With regret, I retrieved the bundle from my arm, a growl and a hiss heard in protest.
“Oh,there he is.” She moved forward and took him from me.
Bill sat like a gentleman, ears perked and very interested in what she’d do with Mr. Beans. I scratched him behind his ear to let him know he was okay.
The vet coaxed Mr. Beans out of the sleeve like toothpaste from a tube. He had a lot of fluff. Something like 50% of his mass alone had to be hair, and his face was flat with long whiskers.
Allison examined him. “He seems in pretty good shape for a house fire. His ears are clean, and his breathing sounds clear. Coat looks untouched by flame.”
“She had him in her sweatshirt,” I explained.
