wildscape. literary journal

2am at the veterinary emergency clinic
by Frankie Soto

This looks very concerning, nothing ever feels as concerning as 
when you hear it from a woman wearing black scrubs and red 
crocs with a terrible poker face.  Her smile widens to distract 
the crack in her voice, you are such a good girl, it’s going to be 
okay sweetheart. Nothing ever feels okay when the emphasis
on okay is elongated, heavy, a departing hug at the airport. 

We need to run more tests,  nothing ever gets tested more than 
once unless the initial result is of concern. There is that word 
again rearing its worrisome head out the way. I hear nails tapping 
outside the door. My ears know that clicking well from late nights 
of trying to sneak into the kitchen for a snack. 

We need to convene to go over possible next steps, you are such a happy 
doggie, oh yes you are a pretty girl, everything is going to be okay. 
There is that word again, compassionately white lying its way out 
the room. 

We wanted to bring her something to eat, do you guys need anything? Water, coffee?
Puts down a burger in a bowl, a small cup of hershey kisses. I am not thirsty, 
but I am starving for the truth, my stomach is eating itself from the inside out 
from guilt, I want to say these things but only answer,  I will take a water please, 
coffee will only make me more anxious with the caffeine.  I nervously end on a 
punchline and awkwardly giggle to try to avoid the hit this is 
about to knock me out with. 

I’m sorry, sedate
I’m sorry, infection
I’m sorry, was bad
I’m sorry, sepsis
I’m sorry, kicked in
I’m sorry, your heart
I’m sorry, won’t be the same. 

about the author // Frankie Soto