Page 68 of Ghost Of You
She swiftly types Meatball’s information into her computer, her fingers dancing over the keyboard with practised efficiency. After a moment, she looks up and nods. “Everything is ready. Dr. Reynolds will be with you shortly.”
I take a seat in one of the plush chairs, noting the cosy ambience of the waiting area. The walls are decorated with framed photos of happy pets and heartfelt thank-you notes from grateful pet owners. As I wait, a few staff members pass by, each offering friendly nods and cheerful greetings. Their genuine interactions with the pet owners and their animals reflect the clinic’s commitment to compassionate care.
After a short wait, Dr. Reynolds, a warm and attentive veterinarian, appears. She wears a crisp white coat over a casual, comfortable outfit and has glasses perched on her nose. Her kind eyes and reassuring smile instantly put me at ease. She carries Meatball’s carrier with gentle care, the soft fabric of the carrier lined with a cosy blanket.
“I’m pleased to say that Meatball is doing very well,” Dr. Reynolds says, her voice a comforting blend of professionalism and kindness. “He’s recovered nicely from his infection. He will need some extra feedings for the next few days to build up his strength, but other than that, he should be back to his usual self in no time.”
I feel a surge of relief and gratitude. “Thank you so much, Dr. Reynolds. I really appreciate all the care you’ve given him.”
“It’s our pleasure,” she replies, handing me the carrier with a warm smile. “I’ve included detailed feeding instructions in the packet. If you have any questions or concerns, please don’t hesitate to call us.”
With a final thank you, I carefully take the carrier and feel Meatball’s comforting purrs vibrating softly through the fabric. The weight of the carrier is reassuring, a tangible reminder that he’s on his way home. As I leave Wonder Vets, I can’t help but feel a renewed sense of happiness, eager to bring Meatball back to Laelia.
As I pull into the driveway, the familiar sight of home brings a sense of comfort. The sun is high, casting a warm, golden light that bathes the house and yard in a soft glow. I carefully gather the carrier from the passenger seat and walk up to the front door, the gentle breeze rustling the leaves around me. Unlocking the door, I step inside, greeted by the comforting scent of our home, a mix of lavender from a diffuser and the faint aroma of coffee.
I set the carrier down on the entryway rug and unfasten the door, allowing Meatball to step out at his own pace. He emerges cautiously, his usually lively eyes looking a bit subdued and his steps hesitant. His fur is slightly ruffled from the journey, and he sniffs around the room with a mix of curiosity and caution. I notice how his whiskers twitch and his little nose quivers as he explores the familiar but still unsettling environment.
At that moment, Laelia’s footsteps become audible as she descends the stairs, her face lighting up with joy and relief whenshe sees me. Her eyes sparkle with affection as she rushes down the stairs, her movement graceful yet eager. “Meatball!” she calls out, her voice full of warmth and longing.
She reaches the bottom of the stairs and kneels on the floor, spreading her arms wide in a welcoming gesture. But Meatball, clearly feeling overwhelmed and irritable from his visit to the vet, gives her a fleeting glance before darting past her and retreating under the couch. He disappears from view with a swift, nervous motion, his tail flicking as he vanishes into the shadows.
Laelia’s expression crumples with disappointment and confusion. She sits back on her heels, her eyes welling up with concern. “Oh no, he’s not coming to me. Did I do something wrong?” she asks, her voice tinged with hurt.
I move closer and kneel beside her, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “It’s not you, beautiful. He’s probably just feeling a bit grumpy from his time at the vets. It’s been a stressful day for him, and he might need some time to adjust. Animals can get overwhelmed and need a bit of space.”
She nods slowly, her gaze fixed on the dark space under the couch where Meatball has taken refuge. “I just wanted to hold him and make him feel better,” she says softly, her voice breaking slightly.
“I know,” I reply gently. “He’ll come around. He’s just had a long, tiring time. Let’s give him a little time to settle. He’ll remember how much you love him, and he’ll come out when he feels more comfortable.”
We sit quietly for a moment, the only sounds being the gentle hum of the house and the soft rustle of Meatball adjusting under the couch. Gradually, I catch glimpses of his bright eyes peeking out from the shadows, his curiosity slowly overcoming his anxiety. Laelia’s sadness begins to ebb away as she gazes at him with a tender, understanding smile.
“I guess I’ll just wait for him to come to me,” she says, her voice filled with patience and hope. “I just hope he feels better soon.”
“He will,” I reassure her. “He’s home now, and that’s what matters. We just need to be patient and let him find his way back to his usual self.”
Laelia nods, her eyes never leaving the spot where Meatball hides. We settle into the comforting routine of being back home, the warmth of our surroundings gradually helping to soothe both Laelia and Meatball.
Chapter thirty-six
The evening has settled in, casting a soft, muted glow into our small living room. The grey sky outside blankets the world in gentle twilight, making the room feel even cosier. The hum of the ceiling fan and the faint scent of vanilla from a nearby candle create a soothing backdrop. Laelia sits beside me on the couch, her legs curled beneath her, her gaze filled with concern and affection.
I’ve been struggling with nightmares for weeks now, and tonight, the weight of them is too much to bear alone. “It’s not just that they’re frightening,” I begin, tracing my finger along the edge of the coffee table. “It’s that they feel so real. When I wake up, it’s like I’m still in them. I’m sweating, my heart’s racing—it’s like I never really escape.”
Laelia turns to face me fully, her hand gently covering mine. Her touch is warm and calming, her fingers interlocking with mine as if to hold me together. “Tell me more about these dreams. What happens in them?”
I take a deep breath, feeling the weight of my words. “It feels like our accident, but worse. I relive it over and over—the crash,the darkness, the pain. Other times, I’m in a different place, but the fear is the same. It’s like I’m on the brink of something terrible, and no matter how hard I try, I can’t get away.”
Her eyes soften with deep empathy, and she leans closer, brushing a strand of hair away from my forehead. “It sounds like your mind is trying to process what happened. Nightmares can be our subconscious’s way of dealing with trauma. Maybe these dreams are trying to help you understand the accident or work through your feelings about it.”
I nod, but my worry still lingers. “But why now? It’s been a while since the accident. I thought I’d moved past it.”
Laelia’s expression is gentle, and she cradles my face in her hands, her thumbs brushing softly against my cheeks. “The brain doesn’t always heal on a predictable timeline. Sometimes it needs more time than we expect. Stress or significant events can resurface old feelings and memories.”
I look down, feeling a bit lost. “I just wish there was something I could do to make them stop.”
Laelia’s gaze is filled with love and warmth. “There are ways to address this. Talking to a therapist might help you explore these dreams and find strategies to cope. But in the meantime, maybe doing something positive could help shift your focus.”
I look up, intrigued. “Like what?”