The waiting room is quiet, with just an elderly couple holding a cat carrier and a woman scrolling through her phone while her small dog sleeps at her feet. I slump into an uncomfortable plastic chair, elbows resting on my knees, staring at the industrial carpeting.
"What if—" I begin, but can't bring myself to finish the thought.
Lena sits next to me, close enough that our shoulders touch. "Don't go there," she says. "One step at a time."
I nod, trying to focus on her steady presence rather than the swirling fears in my head. But as the minutes tick by, it becomes harder to maintain my composure. Needing a distraction, I pull out my phone and see a text from Gunnar.
Tomorrow’s the best day ever! I’m so pumped, guys.
Reality crashes in on me all at once. Gunnar's wedding. Tomorrow. How could I have forgotten?
"Fuck," I mutter, dropping my phone into my lap. "Gunnar's getting married tomorrow."
"I know," Lena says. "We'll make it. Gordie will be okay, and we'll make it to the wedding."
Before I can respond, the elderly couple across from us starts whispering and pointing. The woman nudges her husband and gestures toward me with poorly concealed excitement.
Not now. Please, not now.I tug at my hair, wishing I’d shoved a hat on my head. Wishing for one moment that I possessed a forgettable face.
Lena shifts slightly, angling her body to block their view of me. "Do you want some water?" she asks loudly enough for them to hear. "I saw a vending machine down the hall."
"No, I'm—" My voice breaks embarrassingly. "I'm okay."
She reaches for my hand, interlacing our fingers in a gesture that feels both casual and intimate. "He's going to be fine," she says, and I realize she's still performing for our audience, giving me the cover of a private moment.
"Mr. Stag?" A different vet tech appears at the door. "The doctor would like to speak with you."
I stand on unsteady legs, and Lena rises with me, still holding my hand. The tech leads us to a small consultation room where a middle-aged Asian woman in scrubs waits with Gordie's chart in her hands.
"I'm Dr. Wei," she says, gesturing for us to sit. "Your dog has a severe abscess that's causing significant infection. We've given him pain medication and started antibiotics, but he's going to need surgery to extract the affected teeth and drain the abscess."
"Surgery?" My mouth goes dry. "When?"
"As soon as possible," Dr. Wei says, her expression serious. "The infection is quite advanced. We'd like to keep himovernight for monitoring and do the procedure tomorrow afternoon.”
Tomorrow. Wedding day.
"Will he be okay?" It's the only question that matters right now.
"With prompt treatment, the prognosis is good. Dental infections can be serious, but he's young and otherwise healthy." She glances between Lena and me. "The surgery should take about two hours, and then he'll need to recover here for at least 4-6 hours afterward. You could likely take him home tomorrow evening, but he'll need careful monitoring and medication for several days."
I nod, trying to absorb the information through the fog of panic. "Whatever he needs. Just... fix him."
Dr. Wei's expression softens. "We'll take good care of him, Mr. Stag. The receptionist can go over the costs and paperwork with you."
I tug on my hair. “Can I stay here overnight with him? This feels really shitty. Sorry.”
Lena pats my hand and looks at Dr. Wei, whose lips are pressed in a tight line. “Dr. Wei, I’m a trauma dentist and have experience with injected medications and monitoring vital signs. Do you think we could take Gordon home to wait for his surgery call?”
The vet taps her hands on the table, sighs, and pulls out a notepad. “We’re pretty full here, so I’m going to say yes. Here is the recommended antibiotic and pain medication schedule.” She scribbles some notes that all seem like gibberish to me, but Lena knows what’s happening. She meets my eye and says, “I promise, Alder, we can handle this back home.”
When Dr. Wei leaves in a rush, staring blankly at the wall. Gunnar's wedding is at 4 PM tomorrow. Even if Gordie's surgery is first thing in the morning, there's no way I can leave him alone while he recovers. Not for something as trivial as a wedding.
Even if it is my brother's.
"Alder," Lena says gently. "Talk to me."
"I can't go to the wedding," I say flatly. "I can't leave him."
