Page 4 of Carter

You should wear your mittens.

His voice echoes in my head like it always does throughout the day, but today, it just makes me feel like shit.

I shove one hand into my pocket, hoping the hot coffee cup will be enough to keep the other warm. I duck my head and quicken my pace, weaving around other people who are braving the cold air to get where they need to go.

This isn’t the life I had planned for myself. I wanted so much more. But here I am, walking to and from the animal shelter I volunteer at every Saturday morning because animals are easy to love and they don’t ask questions. They don’t tell you that you look like shit or that you should get over your trauma because it’s been too long. They just love you because they want to be loved in return.

My day job, working at the library, is quiet too. People there don’t ask questions because no one talks much at all. We all know that in the library, you stay quiet. Plus, it’s a small branch and there are usually only two staff on at a time, so we stay busy.

I go to a support group twice a week but just stopped seeing my therapist because it wasn’t working out with us. She didn’t understand that I’m not ready to let go and move on yet.

The life I had planned for myself was much different.

So much different.

But no one cares about your plans. No one but you.

I make it to Winward without frostbite and half my coffee left, only because I wanted the warmth. Once I’m inside and defrosting, I suck down the rest of it, needing the caffeine.

The ache in my head has turned to a low thrum and hopefully I can get through the day without it getting worse.

Learned my lesson. Won’t be going to the bar for another six months. It’s not a usual thing, but when I do end up there, I don’t remember much of the night.

“Morning, Carter,” Hazel calls out from behind the reception desk.

She’s about my age with fair skin, bright eyes, black hair, and big cat-eye glasses. She’s adorable. Cheerleader meets book nerd. Not my type, though. I prefer my partners to be more masculine—way more masculine. Like with a dick and all.

The guy from the bar last night, for instance. I don’t remember much about the night, but I keep getting flashes of his face in my head. He was handsome but I don’t date.

“Morning, Hazel,” I return as I reach the counter and sign in. All volunteers have to.

“Teddy has been waiting for you.”

“I guess I’ll go see her first.”

I go to the staff break room to peel off my coat, hang it on a hook in a small cubby, and put my cup beneath. Then I head intothe back rooms where the kennels are. As soon as I’m through the door, all the barking starts.

“Hi guys,” I say as I walk through, going right to the back.

Teddy is a golden retriever mix who has so much anxiety that she’s on medication. For some reason, she’s taken to me well. And if I could afford a dog, or even had the space, I’d take her. No one else wants to. She’s been here for months already. No one has the patience for her.

Every day, dogs and other animals we have here are adopted. No one wants to deal with a dog who needs daily medication and a lot of attention, but in a calm way. Not in a way that they need to go to the park to play fetch. An active person isn’t the person for Teddy.

“Hey, Teddy,” I say as I open her cage and step inside slowly.

She’s curled into a ball in the corner on her cream-colored bed, her tail flopping up and down like a fish out of water. She ducks her head but keeps her eyes on me.

I don’t go to her. I just sit in the corner opposite her and wait for her to come to me.

I have stuff to do. Feeding the animals, cleaning litter boxes, restocking food, and other things, but I just need to give Teddy a little attention first. Not everyone can get close to her the way I do. She’s not violent, she’s just scared. Cautious.

“I had a rough night last night,” I say softly. “Stayed out way too late. Drank too much.” I keep my voice calm and even. Teddy gets to her feet, tail still wagging and body low to the ground. “I have the worst headache this morning, but I sucked it up like I usually do. It’s my own fault.”

She slowly makes her way toward me, but I don’t react yet. Moving will scare her. I need her to come to me completely.

“Hopefully you had a good night. I know it can be loud in here. Some of these dogs have big mouths.” I huff a laugh. “They’re all good, though. Animals are always good.”

Teddy comes closer and nudges my hand with her wet nose. I wait a beat before lifting it slightly. She shoves her nose beneath, and I pet her. Just a run of my hand over her head. Her body relaxes and she drops to the floor to lie down and puts her head on my thigh. I keep talking to her about my week.