The Beginning of After

me?
    “Listen, I just talked to Eve. She’s still with her parents in Vermont for the holiday. She said I should call you?” Everything he said came out like a question.
    “What’s going on?”
    “We got a call from Eve’s connection at the shelter. They’ve got a cat who’s scheduled to be put to sleep today, so she’s calling around to see if anyone can take her. Dr. B says we have room, but it’s really busy here today and I can’t leave. So Eve said maybe you could pick her up and bring her in.”
    Me. The missing link in the chain that needed to come together to save an animal’s life.
    “Tell them I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”
    When I told Nana why I was scrambling to the car, she just nodded and said, “As long as this one doesn’t end up in your brother’s room, do whatever you need to do.”
    I was just a few minutes from the house when my cell phone rang and I answered it.
    “Hi, it’s me.” Meg.
    “Hey! You’re up early.”
    “Couldn’t sleep.”
    “Too much excess?”
    “No, my parents were arguing all night long, and I could hear every freaking thing. My mom crying. My dad punching pillows. Seriously, it was like listening to a soap opera.”
    “My God, Meg. I’m sorry.” And then, because I thought of that “why didn’t you tell me” feeling from the night before, because it seemed like something I should say, I added, “What can I do?”
    “I just need to get out and go somewhere. Can we go to the mall where it will be crowded and obnoxious and I can forget about it all?”
    “Um . . . sure. I can meet you there in a couple of hours.”
    Silence on the other end of the line. “I was hoping I could pick you up in, like, a minute and a half.”
    “I’m on my way to the animal shelter to save a cat.” It came out like I was heading to the grocery store to buy toilet paper.
    “What do you mean?”
    “I got a call from work. They need my help.”
    “Well, I need your help.” Meg’s voice sounded echoey, louder, a little girl with her hand cupped over the phone receiver so nobody else could hear.
    “You got it. Just tell me where to meet you.”
    “In two hours?”
    “Maybe less. I have to pick up the cat, bring her to Ashland, and get her settled.”
    “Laurel, I don’t want to be alone right now.”
    I thought about saying Yes, of course, Meg . I thought about calling Robert and telling him I had to come later. But the road was pulling the car so swiftly and purposefully toward the shelter, tugging me to an animal that would be dead if I wasn’t on my way. It didn’t seem possible that I could slow down and turn around, even if I wanted to.
    “Why don’t you come meet me at the hospital?” I asked.
    There was a pause, and Meg sucked in her breath, and I could almost hear the anger and hurt she was vacuuming into her chest.
    “Silly me, I forgot that it always has to be about you.”
    It was like a dart thrown right at my face. Quick and direct, with unexpected velocity. My defenses weren’t fast enough.
    “It’s not about me,” I said. “It’s about saving an animal that’s going to be killed! Could you really live with yourself if you knew this cat got put to sleep because you didn’t want to go to the mall alone?”
    Silence, worse than the anger-air-suck. More silence, worse than the dart.
    “Laurel, there are a lot of things I can say right now about the last six months, but I think you know them all.” She paused, and I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to respond, but I didn’t think so, because the next thing she said was:
    “I’ll see you around.”
    And the line went dead.

Chapter Thirty-one

    E arly Action: Get your admission decision
    The words on the Yale website sounded so ho-hum about it, without an exclamation point or even a period to punctuate what it meant to those of us who’d been waiting to see them appear. Everyone else who’d applied early somewhere was counting the days, marking them as little sticks on their notebooks or with big X s in their locker calendars. I refused to keep track but still found myself checking the Yale admissions page online every day.
    All I had to do was follow that link, and log in, and there would be an answer on the other side. It felt so strange to have that guarantee.
    I got up, walked around the room, sat down again. Checked the weather.
    Arrrrgh, just do it!
    So I did, wondering if they’d be standing behind me, watching. Mom and Dad, maybe Toby, too. No, I’d make them