Page 54 of Hey Girl
17
REBECCA
“Are you sure you want to do this?” I ask Chris as he shuts my car door and takes my hand.
“Of course,” he returns calmly, I can tell, with great effort. “This means a lot to you, and I was reading that it’s good for couples to get involved in each other’s interests. And I’ll be on my best behavior, promise.”
In addition to his short-sleeved button down that shows off his tatted guns in all their glory, he’s donned in a baseball cap and sporty sunglasses in an attempt to keep a low profile while he spends time with me today.
I volunteer at this animal shelter whenever my psyche feels up to it, cleaning the cages and showing love to the animals that are waiting for adoption. It’s the very place I picked up Iggy and Howie. It resonated so deeply with me to see them go week after week without someone wanting to give them a home. Not many people are keen to bring the ugly and prickly into their home, but to me, those are the ones that need love the most. And yes, you could say I feel a kinship with animals like that, but let’s try to keep things bright and positive here.
I pull open the door and lead Chris down a concrete hallway towards where we keep the kennels while he keeps remarkably quiet. Poor guy. I know he’s bursting to go nuts, running up and down the lines of kennels and explore, but he’s trying to conduct himself with decorum.
We turn the corner to the main kennel room, and I find Beatrice crouched over, cleaning out one of the bottom kennels. She’s a delightful plump woman in her late fifties with a huge heart for both animals and phenomenal patience with me. She knows I have trouble with her name and lets me call her ‘B’.
She looks up as we approach and does a subtle double take, narrowing her eyes until they pop open wide.
“Rebecca?” She asks, astonished, and I give a coy smile. I know I look different. I’ve been wearing my glasses again, as they make me feel comfortable and most like myself - the contacts shall henceforth be known as the big guns, that I will only break out on special occasions - but behind them, my eyes are made up moderately with eyeliner and mascara. And rather than my usual protective curtain of hair, I actually have my locks pulled back in a low, side ponytail. “Look at you!” She expresses with warm surprise. “You’ve got a new look, I love it!”
“Thank you,” I tell her as Chris holds his hand out to her like a respectful gentleman.
“Hi there, I’m Chris,” he smiles slightly, pulling his shades off his face with his other hand. She smiles up at him as they shake before looking back to me.
“And you have a handsome gentleman with you,” she marvels as I hear brisk footsteps coming around the corner.
“Beatrice, do we have any - oh!” Courtney, another volunteer, slightly younger than Beatrice and a bit more boisterous stops when she sees us. “Hi, are you here to adopt? We don’t open for another half hour, but we could take you up front and -,”
“Hi Courtney, it’s me.” Her eyes pan and scan up and down me before she gasps.
“Oh my god, Rebecca!” She exclaims. “You look beautiful! What did you do?” Her fingertips find the ends of my hair, and another hand tugs gently at the cropped black hoodie I fashioned out of an old, baggy one I’d found at the back of my closet. Her mind seems to be going a mile a minute, taking in all this new input. She looks up at Chris before her gaze snaps back to me. “And you’re with a guy!” She stage whispers the last word. “What’s going on, what brought on all this? I love it!” She fires off. She’s a sweetheart who absolutely means well but tends to get carried away, and while the ‘new me’ is trying to handle it gracefully, the ‘new Chris’ seems to pick up on the discomfort starting to manifest beneath my skin and gently steps in.
“Actually, she’s just here to do her volunteer time,” he interjects, placing a warm hand to the back of my neck and gently massaging, bringing my blood pressure down, but also waking up my ‘new libido’. “And I’d love to lend a hand too,” he adds, and I’m floored at his composure. Don’t get me wrong, I wouldn’t change a thing about his crazy and ridiculous personality, but if I said this wasn’t hot, my new stylishly ripped jeans would go up in flames.
“Sorry,” she sighs, slowly blinking and reeling in her excitement, and I surprise myself by reaching out and giving her arm a squeeze, letting her know it’s all good.
Courtney skips off back to the front, hopefully to calm down, as Chris and I settle in. He looks around, taking in his surroundings as I pull out bags of different kinds of dog and cat food.
“This room doesn’t look as dark and depressing as I imagined these places to be,” he observes. “I like that the walls are painted yellow, it definitely makes it more cheerful.”
“I did that,” I say softly as I reach up on my tippy toes for some clean bowls up on the top shelf.
“Of course you did,” he says, reaching up to grab a stack of bowls for me.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean of course you’d find a way to make life better and brighter for someone else,” he explains, his voice thick as he stuffs his hands in his pockets.
I smile and look away shyly. I love the change in me, it’s amazing to function like something resembling normal. But I’m still getting used to any attention being on me, positive or not.
Chris continues to show himself around, and lo and behold, his tight hold on his behavior slips when he gets to the ferret cage.
“FERRETS!!!” Chris shouts, running towards the pens and jumping up and down. “Ohmygod they’re so cute!!! Can we get them out? Can we?” My word, he really is like a sugar hyped kindergartner, but it’s beyond terrific to see him give such a shit and take so much interest in these animals, and in the shelter that means so much to me.
“Hang on, hang on,” I say, walking over and undoing the latch. There’s a knack to this particular pen, and doing it wrong tends to jam it.
“Give me one! Now! Give me them both!” He demands.
“Kumquat,” I chirp over my shoulder, and he bows his head, holding his hands up.