The Beginning of After

with dogs chasing one another’s tails, and the other was a simple blue with a cat embroidered on the pocket. Both made me look like I was wearing a costume, which I’d liked before today. Now it seemed too obvious.
    To feel more like me, I found one of my favorite necklaces: a silver chain with a small silver disk stamped with my name. Toby had given it to me for my last birthday, and I hadn’t been able to admit to him how much I loved it.
    I also blow-dried my hair for the first time in weeks.
    Was I looking forward to this or dreading it?
    You’re going to show him you’re doing just fine , I thought, knowing that it probably didn’t even matter to him whether I was fine or not.
    The appointment was for two o’clock, and the morning went slowly. I tried not to keep checking the time. Now that school was out, I was working full days, and it was taking some getting used to. Fortunately, Eve asked me to join her for lunch. It wasn’t an invitation, it was more like, “Tamara said she’ll watch the front desk while we go eat.”
    We’d been friendly, but the busy and sometimes tense hospital atmosphere didn’t allow for much chitchat. Which was one of many things I loved about being there, and now I was nervous about having a real conversation with Eve.
    She was nineteen, going to the community college and living at home while she “worked on the animal thing,” as she called it. “There are a lot of paths I could take. I’m trying to figure out which one,” she told me over burritos at Taco Bell, with a straight, serious face, and offered no additional explanation. She didn’t ask me any questions about myself, and I didn’t offer. I was just supposed to be some girl in high school, and not have any stories yet.
    When we got back, it was one thirty, and although I settled in to do some photocopying, I glanced up every time the front door opened.
    David could be early. He could show up late. I didn’t know him well enough to make a call on that.
    Eve noticed my anticipation. “Expecting someone?”
    “Masher’s coming in today. His owner . . . my friend . . . is bringing him.”
    My friend. That felt like another little lie.
    At two exactly, the door opened and I looked up, and there they were. I pictured David sitting in his father’s Jaguar in the parking lot, watching the minutes change so he could pinpoint the exact punctual moment to get out of the car.
    The waiting room was empty, but Masher seemed to remember getting bullied before and sniffed the air nervously. David saw me and sort-of waved with one hand, pulled off his sunglasses with the other.
    “Hi, Laurel,” he said, sounding formal, his eyes sweeping the space. He was dressed in a long-sleeved thermal shirt and black corduroys, even though it was easily eighty-five degrees outside.
    “Welcome,” I said, giving formal back to him.
    I came through the half door that separated the front desk area from the waiting room, and as soon as Masher saw me he ran over and jumped up. I caught his front paws in my hands and let him lick my face. David seemed puzzled.
    “How’s he doing?” I asked after I finally got the dog off me.
    “Good.” He paused. I noticed now that he’d put something in his hair to slick the sides back behind his ears, which looked newborn pink and too exposed. “I think he’s been a little sore or something. That’s actually the first time I’ve seen him stand up like that.”
    I nodded, and now that the moment had turned awkward, I wondered how I could smoothly get back behind the safety of the front desk.
    “How’s the job?” asked David, and looked me in the eye.
    “I love it,” I replied, loud enough so Eve could hear.
    I wasn’t sure what to do next but fortunately, Eve piped up, “Why don’t you take them into room two? Dr. B will be there in a minute.”
    So I led David and Masher to the exam room, David holding onto Masher’s leash but Masher walking close to me. Once we were in, I wasn’t sure whether to stay or go. I waited for an invitation from David, but it didn’t come. He just examined the poster of two golden puppies in football jerseys and blackout under their eyes—“Wide Retrievers”—and let out a little laugh.
    I had no idea what to say so I didn’t say anything, which seemed the worst choice of all, as I left the room and closed the door behind me.
    Fifteen minutes passed. I spent most of it on the phone with a client who was disappointed with the grooming her