Hours later, I was wedged on Erika’s sofa beside Vinny, who’d passed out during an F1 race replay.Tracker was curled into the boy’s side, clearly loyal to whoever generated the most body heat.
My phone had lit up a dozen times with Timothy’s grievances.He’d called twice—both of which I generously allowed to roll into voicemail.He wasn’t specific, but I could tell the silence was doing exactly what it always did: making him madder.
The front door opened.The dog raced off the sofa.I cringed, ready for him to bark and wake up Vinny.But the heeler made no noise.He ran circles around Erika as she peeked into the room.She leaned down and gave the dog a good pet.
She whispered, “Oh good, he’s asleep.Can you hang out a few extra minutes?I need to take a shower real quick, but I want to talk about your brother.”
“Sure.Did he do something inappropriate?”
“Guess it depends on your definition of inappropriate.Give me a few minutes.I can’t stand smelling like this.Do you mind carrying him up to his room?”She pointed at Vinny.
I heard the water turn on in the master bathroom as I picked up Vinny.After settling Vinny into his bed upstairs, I texted Timothy:What happened tonight?
Timothy:Now you reply?It’s 12:30 AM.
Josh:I fell asleep.
Better I lied than admit I was at Erika’s house.
Timothy:I don’t want her treating my cows again.
Josh:Did the cow die or lose her calf?
Timothy:No.
Josh:Did Erika fix the problem?
Timothy:Yes.
Josh:Then what’s the problem?
My phone rang.I answered.
Timothy lit into me, “She insisted on giving the cow a local block.Said they feel pain.We argued.I said I didn’t want it.She didn’t listen.They’re my fucking cows.The vet does what I say gets done.”
“So what?She helped the procedure go smoother by doing?—”
“Giving a local is pet medicine bullshit,” he interrupted.“These aren’t pets.”
“It didn’t hurt you or the cow.Did she need to sedate it?”
“No.”
“Perhaps she was trying to avoid hurting the calf by not sedating its mother,” I said carefully.“Did you think of that?”
“Well, no.”His voice lost some of its edge.I heard a clatter, like he’d dropped the phone, then scooped it back up.“She fixed it, but afterward we argued—about the pain-relief injection, and then again about antibiotics.She lectured me.Me!”
“On what?”I asked, biting the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing.
“Things.”
I softened my voice to the one I used when explaining to people who were upset about ridiculousness.“I’m going to need you to be more specific.From what you’ve told me, my associate showed up in the middle of the night and fixed the problem.She did it without putting your cow—or her unborn calf—at risk.That’s the literal definition of a successful emergency treatment.”
“She’s a bitch.I don’t want to see her again.”Timothy hung up.
I stared at my phone, waiting for it to light up with the inevitable follow-up rage texts.It stayed dark.
Erika walked in drying her hair with a towel.“Who was that?”
