Dear readers, remember me?
I'm back after a hiatus, now married and living in the US. The last two-and-a-half years have been a whirlwind, not leaving me with the time or the opportunity for what I love best: writing stories. A lot of you emailed me asking if I was still writing, but I couldn't respond because I briefly lost access to many of my email accounts. I'm sorry about that.
This is my first story set in the US. I wrote this on a whim, because I was itching to get back. The chapters are small— I know many of you aren't fond of 'long' short stories! I hope you enjoy it, and even if you don't...well, at least you know I'm still here!
I hope you're all well.
Love,
~LG
xXx
Chapter 1
It was midnight when Chris's phone rang. He raised his eyes from the laptop, scanning the desk to locate his phone. It wasn't unusual for him to stay awake till late in the night, reading or writing. Over the years, it had become his nightly habit to do some reading or writing before going to bed. As a child, he had seen his dad spend long hours at his desk, reading or writing. To little Chris, it used to seem like the most tedious job in the world, where you had to sit at a desk all day. Growing up in a house in the woods, he wanted nothing more than to be surrounded by nature, fishing, chasing after wild ducks and climbing trees. That was also what he wanted to do as a grown-up.
And now, here he was, sitting at a desk and writing books, just like his dad. There was so much that people still didn't know about animals, and he considered it his responsibility to educate them. Writing wasn't that bad, after all. And being blessed with his father's genes meant all his books were well-received by readers. One of the most prestigious magazines of the country had requested him to write the cover story for their 25th anniversary issue, and Chris had been trying to come up with the right subject for a story.
The phone had been ringing for almost one minute when he finally answered. The female voice on the other end seemed a little panicked.
"I thought you would never answer," she half-scolded him. "You weren't sleeping, were you?"
"It doesn't matter anymore, does it?" he smiled. "What's the matter, Clara?"
"Well, there's a small emergency at the hospital," she said, her voice a mixture of nervousness and hesitation. "I guess we need you to come down here as soon as possible."
"But what's wrong?" he asked, perplexed.
"Will you come here at once, please?" she screeched. "It's urgent."
"Alright." He saved the unfinished document on the laptop and pushed the chair back. "Give me ten minutes. I'll be there."
Clara hung up, sounding a little relieved after his assurance. Chris got out of his pajamas and changed into a pair of jeans and a long sleeve t-shirt—the first clothes he could grab. He slipped into his half-done boots and jacket hanging on the rack in the foyer and grabbed his car keys before leaving the house.
It was almost the end of September, but the sleet on the ground made it seem like the mid of December. As a child, Chris had loved winter. But as a 36-year-old veterinarian, it was only an inconvenience. Someone's dog could die while he was trying to prevent his wheels from skidding on the wet, slippery street.
He reached the animal hospital within a few minutes. It was the biggest veterinary hospital in Chicago, and possibly one of the best in the country. Chris had been working there his entire adult life, first under his mentor, and later as owner and medical director. Although the place remained crowded the whole day, at that time of the night it was mostly vacant and quiet. The few cars in the parking lot belonged to the staff members who worked night shifts. Chris knew every car there, except one—a pink Volkswagen Beetle. He was almost tempted to ask Clara, his vet technician, if she'd got a new car.
But Clara didn't have time to talk. The moment he met her after changing into his smock, the pale blonde girl grabbed him by his arm and almost dragged him to the emergency room.
"Will you please tell me what's happening?" he said, even as he pulled his hair back. "Is there a patient?"
"Of course there's a patient!" she screeched again. "Why do you act like a dumb five-year-old sometimes?"
"I'm only wondering what is going on," he said. Clara pushed open the door of the treatment room, where Chris's team was hunched over a black-and-white cat on the table. They looked up when Chris entered, Clara offering him his mask and gloves.
"This is Cleo," she explained. "She was brought in a while ago because she hasn't eaten in two days. She's also been losing weight and fur at an alarming rate over the last few weeks."
"And you got this information from...?" Chris asked, even as the other technicians moved aside to let him examine the animal.
"Her mom. She's in the waiting room."
"Why is she in the waiting room?"
"Because she seems kind of shaken," Clara said. "She didn't want to interrupt our work."
Chris examined the listless cat on the table, various machines attached to her limbs and neck. The fluids and IVs didn't seem to be doing much. Her heart rate was also faint. It was a Turkish Angora, but fluffier than usual. Even with the loss of fur, there was still plenty left.
"We've sent for blood works," Jane explained before Chris could ask. "The report should be here shortly."
"What do you think is wrong?" Clara asked.
Chris lifted his head and pulled his mask down. "We need an ultrasound," he announced. "Jane, bring her to the exam room, please."
Five minutes later, Jane was shaving the areas to be scanned on the cat, while Chris instructed Clara and the other technicians to perform the scan. He went into the laboratory in the meanwhile to get the report of the blood works. When he was handed the report, Chris only nodded in understanding. It was just what he had suspected.
Back in the exam room, he watched as the transducer was used on the body of the cat to examine the inside of the body. He instructed Jane to scan over the kidneys, liver, pancreas, spleen, stomach, intestines and bladder, while Clara entered the images and measurements into their medical chart. Chris also suggested the use of color doppler to see blood flow to and from the organs. After staring at the monitor for a few minutes, he left the exam room to wander into the waiting room next door, which was unsurprisingly vacant, except for a dark-haired woman near the window, clad in a long black jacket and ankle boots. Chris slowly approached her, careful to not startle her.
When he cleared his throat, the woman turned, her green eyes sparkling. She was about a foot shorter than him, Chris guessed, at around 5'5". Even though he was tempted to stare at her flawless creamy skin and her lustrous brown hair, he was distracted by the tear in the corner of her eye. She quickly lifted a finger to wipe it away.
"Did you bring in the cat?" he finally asked. She nodded.
"I'm Dr. Christopher Benson," he extended a hand and a smile. The woman appeared surprised for a minute, and in the silence that followed, Chris realized she wasn't going to shake his hand.
"You are Dr. Benson?" she asked, her eyebrows upright. He withdrew his hand and nodded, even as her gaze rolled from his head down to his shoes.
"And you are?"
She sighed, her eyes lowering. "Luciana," she said quietly. "Luciana Russo."
She lifted her gaze again to stare at him. "She won't live, right?"
