Love Is Pink!

“But I want . . .” She pointed in Baby’s direction.

“No.” I shook my head. “It’s better for you to stay out here. Papa and I will take care of it together.”

Emma started to cry. “Will Baby die?”

I hugged her tight. “The doctor is going to do his best. We’ll come out soon and report every last detail.”

“You won’t lie to me, right?” Her blue eyes were full of tears.

“I’d never do to that to you.” Without another word, I got up and joined David and the vet in the operating room.

As I entered, the vet was pulling a needle of out Baby’s neck. The dog looked at me and wagged his tail. Then he closed his eyes. His tongue protruded until it hung half out of his mouth.

I felt ill. “Did you put him to sleep?”

“No, no,” David hurriedly reassure me. “Dr. Flaubert only gave him some anesthesia so he’ll be able to treat him.”

The vet started the examination. This time he proceeded more systematically. He moved the injured leg, checked the wound, and tapped Baby’s ribs. He pushed his eyelids up and shined his light in them.

Finally, he turned to David and began talking. While doing so, he pointed to the wound and the injured leg. At the end of his explanation, it seemed to me as though he’d asked a question.

“David, what’s wrong?” An icy feeling came over me.

David seemed calm and collected. “Baby’s right hind leg is broken. The wound on his side is not that bad. It has to be stitched. But even if they operate on him, there’s a chance that he’ll remain handicapped, and his leg will stay stiff.”

“Oh,” I said, holding back tears.

David stared into my eyes as if he wanted to look inside my heart. “The operation won’t be cheap. Three hundred and fifty euros. The doctor also said that putting him to sleep would only cost—”

“No,” I said.

Again I had the impression that David was listening to every single word I said, that he was watching even the slightest emotion I showed. Then he reached into his back pocket. He obviously wanted to show me his wallet to prove that he really didn’t have a single euro to help Baby.

I held his arm still. “Wait,” I said. I reached in my jacket pocket and pulled out the cash that I’d gotten for my Cartier watch. “I know you’re broke. But look, I have enough money.”

An expression of complete bafflement came over David’s face. Then he turned and spoke to the doctor in French. The doctor smiled at me, nodded, and pointed to the door.

“We’ll need to stay outside while he operates on him,” David said to me.

He put his arm around my shoulders and led me out of the operating room, almost against my will. In the waiting room, I sat next to Emma, who was pale and fearful. She gripped my hand.

“Baby will be operated on,” I whispered, “and he’ll be healthy. He may always have a limp, because of his leg. But that’s OK.”

Emma scooted closer, pressed her head against my shoulder, and began to cry.





27


David found an empty chair on the other side of the waiting room. More and more four-legged patients and their owners kept arriving, filling the narrow space.

Soon the air got very stuffy.

Emma eventually calmed down a bit. I took her onto my lap so that an older woman with an Angora cap could have her chair.

David shot me an encouraging smile, and I returned it. He rested his forearms on his thighs and leaned forward to quietly ask me, “Where did you get the money?”

I made a vague hand gesture.

David was still for a moment, then he nodded. “I thought you might do that. You pawned your watch.”

I tried to grin. “Almost. I sold it.”

“And why did you do that?”

“My, you’re inquisitive! So that we can get home, of course.”

“The lady in the shop was really mean,” Emma added. “And Michelle got very upset.”

“Emma, you’re exaggerating,” I said.

“No, Papa, I’m not. And then they stole Michelle’s suitcases.”

“The people in the pawnshop stole your luggage?”

“Not them,” I said. “It was two snotty-nosed upstarts with a Mercedes. You know, the trunk doesn’t close properly. They noticed that. You can figure out the rest.”

David’s gaze became even a touch more compassionate, if that was possible. And now it also held a trace of remorse. “You can help yourself to my bag at any time, if you need a sweater or something like that. I’m really sorry for everything that’s happened to you.”

“The main thing is that Baby will be well again. As far as my suitcases are concerned . . . pfft. All they held were stupid clothes. That stuff can be found as easily as sand at the beach. And the watch wasn’t that nice, anyway. Too clunky, Emma thought.”

That comment was meant to be funny, but David examined me even more thoughtfully.

Somebody must get men. I don’t.





28