June has only one more summer before she marries her high school sweetheart. She intends to make the most of it, but she has no idea what is waiting for her in Dolphin Coast. Socks on the Beach is a tale of steamy love, jaw-dropping heartbreak, and...
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"So what ended up happening between you and June? Last I saw, she was ready to rip your fuckin' head off," Johnny chuckled tiredly, gripping a styro-foam cup of coffee and leaning up against the check-in counter as I went over my busy schedule for the day. I didn't like how 'chummy' he was acting with me this morning.
8 AM is too early for new social dynamics.
I shook my head, rubbing the sleepy droop from my eyes with a soured expression.
"Nothing happened."
"You're no fun. I liked you better when you were drunk," Johnny joked uneasily but I didn't find it funny. Once I had what I needed from the desk, I wordlessly disappeared into the back to start my day.
Mr. Andrews and I had a euthanasia first thing this morning.
He found me shortly before the nine year-old Golden Retriever with Lymphoma did, as I printed off the Euthanasia consent forms for the owner to tearfully sign. It was a morbid process, but it was something that I'd grown used to over time. Even the best dogs die.
"Nathan!" Gus exclaimed gleefully as he burst into the waiting room, quickly shaking off a dewy umbrella and wiping his shoes on the 'Dogs Welcome, People Tolerated' doormat before rushing to the desk, leaning two wet elbows on the freshly sanitized surface. I cringed up at him, saying nothing.
"Mrs. Davenport-"
Who?
"-said that she saw you at The Captain's Hook this weekend! I'm so proud of you for putting yourself out there," he beamed. The printer whirred to a close and I reached over, pulling the warm stack of paper with drying fingers and plucking the metallic, paw-printed stapler from beneath the dusty monitor. Mr. Andrews awaited my reply, his bearded chin in both hands.
I should've known that he's find out.
After all, he sees me when I'm sleeping and he knows when I'm awake.
"Be proud if you have to be, but don't expect it to happen again any time soon," I responded before cracking the staple into place and making a break for it. Mr. Andrews hadn't been at the receiving end of my attitude for a while.
"Nathan? Is everything okay?" He called after me and I waved a hand over my shoulder dismissively and scurried into the narrow hallways, disappearing into our designated Euthanasia Room. The pearly gates to the doghouse in the sky.
The stainless steel exam table was not needed today.
It had been folded flat against the grapefruit-colored walls, peppered with an array of medical diagrams and smiling photos of kids and puppies. Our three most comfortable blankets formed the final resting place on the white tile floor and classical music played faintly through a portable speaker. I laid out homemade peanut butter treats.
