Page 2 of Save Me

“Please, you have toys, and I won’t be long.” Discomfort is hot in my chest as I check to make sure Princess has enough safe things to chew. His crate is large, six by five, fully enclosed. I had to enclose it after I found him tangled in my curtains one day, his leg stuck and cold to the touch. I almost went postal that day.

“I love you, tooty fruity.” I don’t look at Princess’ face. I can’t face the betrayal. My schedule isn’t routine enough for Princess to anticipate my comings and goings, and he gets upset every time. Probably because he thinks I’m abandoning him. Forever.

The thought makes my throat get tight, like the muscles are stretched over something bigger than my throat, like a baseball bat.

Just one treat. I can get him a treat.

Princess hasn’t always had to be alone. Usually, whoever I’m dating is around for my appointments, but I’ve been single since earlier this year. For like, the first time in my life.

It sucks. There’s so much empty space for…everything. It makes it quiet enough to hear the skeletons in my closet dancing with their clickety-clack-you’re-a-failure, snap-pop-lock-no-one-will-love-you.

But even when I was with someone, leaving Princess with my old boyfriends never felt good. They usually ignored him, including the last guy who let Princess get tangled up in the curtains. That’s when we broke up, and I became single.

I grab a meatball from the fridge, but when I go to put it in his cage, Princess hops up and down like I’m letting him out, and the baseball bat gets bigger.

“I promise I’ll be back.”

He scrabbles at the bars and then lets out an angry sniff.

I walk away.

I swore I’d never let anyone else feel alone. Being alone sucks. Surrounded by people, but never a part of them. Invisible in a sea of people who found their someone, smiling at holidays, sharing favorite recipes, wearing matching PJs, and whispering secrets once the lights have gone off. Happy. Safe. Together.

And now I leave my best friend, surrounded by a sea of inanimate objects just like I am.

CHAPTER TWO

The nice thing about having money is that you can buy companionship.

Okay, okay, I don’t mean a sex worker. I mean a pet sitter. Although it’s very hard to find a pet sitter for skunks. No one will reply to my ad.

Maybe a sex worker would do it?

I scroll the pet sitter app. Dog…dog…cat…bird? I check my inbox again. Big fat nothing. Hello? No one is even willing to try to scam me? Not a single message?

I’m oddly offended.

“Microwaves go that high??”

“Please, don’t act like I should have known. The thing was frozen!”

The sounds of bickering come through the shop doors, and I glance up to see one of Logan’s perfect god-of-a-boyfriend walk into the shop, Ronan, accompanied by another god I’ve seen around the shop, Callum. Although Callum is also taken by a cute redhead. Hey, here’s that recurring theme–everyone is in love with their soulmates but me. Which isn’t fully true, I love Princess. And I love french fries. And I love tattooing. I have so much love to give.

“Logan, your boyfriend lit a pancake on fire in the microwave.” Callum crosses his arms.

“Correction, it was the paper plate!” Ronan throws his hands in the air. “There must be something in it!”

“Yeah, like flammable paper?” Callum arches an eyebrow.

Logan, whom I’ve been studiously ignoring, stops tattooing his client to give both men a deadpan look.

“I put it out, I’m not sure why this is such a big deal.” Ronan looks exasperated, then stalks to the back. “I’m going to the bathroom.”

Callum and Logan share a look, then Callum flops down into a chair next to Logan, and Callum falls into easy conversation with him. My chest twinges with something that I don’t have time to acknowledge because the shop door tinkles again, and my appointment, Chad, a college-aged white guy with an odd collection of tattoos by various people, walks in. Immediately, he gives me a smile.

Amazing! Someone to chat with. Suddenly, this corner feels a lot less lonely. I wonder if we have anything in common? Well, we do have a random assortment of tattoos in common. Check. And he’s around my age, just a bit younger, I’m sure we can hit it off.

“Hey, how are you?” I greet Chad with the waiver. He greets me with another smile that reaches his eyes, signing it without even reading. “It’s still hot as balls out there!”