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HANNAH
Who wasI to question fate?
A non-believer, that’s who. A fate-hater who was, at the moment, flat on her back in a spread-eagle formation, bruises forming on a flat behind and nothing to show for the trouble.
I hadn’t always been so cynical. I ended up in this charming little town because I had, at one point, thought the fates collided and provided me with the most incredible opportunity of my career. I’d been looking for a position on the coast. Somewhere I could settle in and watch the sun rise over the water. Somewhere I could learn to trust myself again.
And the retirement of Moon Harbor’s only veterinarian, Dr. Gerald Bruske, just perfectly coincided with my fateful search. I stayed up all night working on a proposal and submitted it first thing in the morning. Dr. Bruske had called me the very next day to offer me the practice.
When I searched for homes to rent in Moon Harbor, I was delighted to see the most perfect little cottage available for move-in by the first of the month. It was just south of the main part of town and sat on a cliff overlooking the ocean. The dreamer in me was ecstatic and I called the real estate agent and immediately put in my application. It only took two days to hear back that I had gotten it.
For the first time in my life, everything had fallen into place in the most perfect fashion. But that should have been my first clue. Because three weeks later, I was laying on the dusty floor of my new practice, feeling more defeated than I have since…no.I will not think about that.Not now, at any rate.
I eyed the offending ladder I’d just fallen off of and gave it the death-glare. It continued leaning against the wall in a precariously tilted way, mocking me:
I’m still standing, bitch. Unlike you.
Sighing at my imagination, I gingerly moved each limb to assess the damage. The back of my head felt like someone had taken a sledgehammer to it. But nothing else felt broken or sprained. Just sore.
I sat up, inch by slow inch, so as to not anger my already bruised muscles and ego. Each movement caused the ache in my head to compound. By the time I was fully upright, the setting sun was peeking through the window of the front of the building, shining an orange glow across the wooden floor, illuminating every dent and scratch. I made a mental note to add floor-buffing to my never-ending list of things to do before opening.
How long had I been laying there? I needed to get home. So much still needed to get done if I was going to open on time, but I wasn’t doing anything here in this condition, and tomorrow was another day.
Moving slower than a three toed sloth, I rose up on my feet and made my way to the check-in counter, where I’d placed my purse and keys. And my phone, which, if I’d needed to call for an ambulance, had done me no good in that location. I made a mental note to wear pants with pockets so I could keep it on me from now on. Or get an Apple Watch.Or Life Alert.
Closing and locking the door behind me, I stepped down off the tiny stoop and eased my way across the uneven cobblestone sidewalk. What was charming and quaint only a few hours ago, now seemed like a minefield. I turned right and spotted the small ribbon of shadowed blue water visible above the promenade wall. On any other day I would have admired the beauty, but at this moment, I was just grateful the sun was setting behind me so it wasn’t in my eyes.
Everything hurt and my head was starting to spin. No way could I drive in this condition. Deciding to leave my little blue Mini Cooper in its parking spot on the street in front of the practice, I set off for my destination.
I only needed to walk one block to the bench I knew existed on the corner. I could call an Uber and sit there to wait. My new office took up the entire lower level of an old townhouse a block from Harbor Street, the main drag of town. Dr. Bruske owned the building and didn’t seem to have any intentions to sell it. The upper two floors held an apartment that he rented out to a couple of the fishermen here in town. The stairs to their entrance was around the back of the building and I had yet to see the men, despite hearing their stomping boots from time to time.
I didn’t mind paying rent for the space in order to keep the practice in the same location. I told Dr. Bruske as much when we worked out the details of my proposal to buy his practice. But it was my fault for not insisting on seeing the facilities before I signed the year-long lease. I’d wrongly assumed that since it was a working vet’s office, it would be in fairly good shape, if not ideal shape, seeing as how the vet owned the building and all.
But I was oh-so wrong.
Which was how I’d found myself doing DIY fix-it projects despite having approximately zero knowledge on how to fix anything. Not a house, not my life. I couldn’t even fix my relationship. But there was no use worrying about that now.
My head pounded a steady rhythm as I got closer to the corner. The mental image of me, the new girl in town, hunched over like Quasimodo and walking at a snail’s pace, did not escape my attention. But I was too sore to care.
Almost there.
The longer I stood upright, the dizzier I became and now that I think about it, my stomach wasn’t feeling so well…
As if the day couldn’t get any worse, a rush of nausea came crashing over me. It was at that point that I decided making it to the bench was not as necessary as preventing myself from throwing up all over the stoop of my new neighbor’s home. I dropped down to my knees, the action sending new aches and pains throughout my legs. I put my head down, almost touching the cobblestones. The slight ease of the nausea was accompanied by an intense increase in head pain. Shit.
I was stuck, collapsed in a haphazard version of child’s pose—a favorite part of my yoga class—on the middle of the sidewalk in the town I had just moved to, without knowing a single other person.
The pain and nausea was enough that it hardly mattered. I heard moaning and realized, belatedly, it was coming from me. And when I realized I could hear footsteps approaching, also belatedly, I didn’t even have it in me to be embarrassed. That would come later.
“Are you alright?” a concerned feminine voice asked.
I tried to answer, really, I did. But all that came out was a jumble of nonsense and a moan crossed with what could only be described as some sort of honking sound.
“Should I call an ambulance?” I didn’t bother responding that time, but it was no matter because apparently the question wasn’t for me. Another woman answered.
“Yeah, and text Theo just in case.”
