The Beginning of After

surprise. But I couldn’t echo it with spoken words. I hated to think of what that would lead to.
    Instead, I said, “Gone.”
    Suzie raised an eyebrow. “Gone, how?”
    “Just gone.”
    I looked back at the card expectantly, like Hit me again. Suzie frowned but flipped over the next one.
    I AM ANGRY BECAUSE . . .
    Nothing will go as planned.
    Huh? No.
    “I have to be here today.”
    Suzie gazed at me, again with the curiosity, and then gingerly laid the card back on the deck. She took great care to slowly replace the first card, put the top on the box, and place it on the end table next to her pad. Her movements seemed calm, yet hostile.
    “Laurel,” she said, looking at me now with commitment, her face clear of questions. Right in the eyes. “Do you believe your relationship with your parents and your brother is over?”
    The force of this made me unfurl. My shoulders hit the back of the couch and my hands came out from between my knees. I didn’t know what to do with them, so I folded them protectively over my stomach.
    “Of course it’s over. They’re dead.”
    “So they will never be part of your life again?”
    “Well, yeah. They’re dead .” Why did I have to repeat that? Had she gotten me mixed up with someone else?
    “They won’t have any more influence on you? They won’t contribute to who you are or the decisions you make?”
    Now it was my turn to look at Suzie with curiosity.
    “Laurel, you have suffered a terrible, horrible loss. Greater than most people can imagine. But you can survive this trauma, and one of the many ways that will help you do that is to think of your relationship with your mom, your relationship with your dad, and your relationship with your brother as things you can work on and develop, even though these people you love are not living.”
    I felt something latch open inside me, and the first heat of tears in my eyes. It was an unfamiliar heat, of relief.
    Suzie did not smile or nod or seem at all victorious at breaking through like this. She looked at me with even more determination.
    “This will be hard, Laurel. But it will be worth it.”
    I slept that night, but woke up early to the sound of someone gagging and coughing. When I opened my eyes, the first thing I saw was Selina on the pillow next to me, staring with disgust at the source of the sound.
    Which was Masher, in the middle of my room, spitting something onto the purple rug. There was a foamy pink stain next to a pile of my clothes.
    Gross , I thought. What had he eaten that was pink?
    But my color-mixing skills as a painter snapped on and reminded me, Red and purple make pink.
    He was puking up blood.
    I jumped out of bed and grabbed Masher gently by the ears, forcing him to look at me. His eyes were bloodshot, and although this was the first time I’d touched him in days, he didn’t seem to react. He just pulled his head away and dropped it to the floor, where I noticed an older pink stain a few feet away.
    “Nana!” I yelled.
    I heard frantic footsteps getting louder, and then Nana burst into my room, looking panicked. “What? What happened?”
    “Masher’s sick.”
    She closed her eyes and put her hand on her chest. “For goodness’ sake, Laurel!” She steadied her breathing. “The dog?”
    “Did you notice anything last night?”
    Nana looked at Masher distastefully at first, then softened.
    “No. He wanted to go out, so I let him. He came back a little later than usual, maybe.”
    “I think we need to call the vet. The number’s on that emergency list by the phone downstairs.”
    Nana looked at me, then back at Masher. I don’t know which of us looked more pathetic.
    “Do you want me to get it?”
    “If you could,” I said.
    Dr. Fischer had been our vet for years. Her daughter was in Toby’s class. Then I thought of her and her staff, seeing me. Knowing what had happened on prom night. Knowing, period.
    Nana was almost out the door when I said, “I don’t think I can take him. Can you do it?”
    She turned slowly and made a little ha! noise. “No, Laurel. You took this dog in. You are responsible for him.”
    I turned to Masher, his eyes not even pleading anymore, and pushed David’s face out of my mind so it was no longer connected to the dog.
    “Then bring me the Yellow Pages,” I said. “I’ll find another vet.”
    Ashland Animal Hospital was on Ashland Road in the town just east of ours, but lucky for them they were listed first in the phone book. Nana pulled