The Greylands: Modern Edition

Ingleside

"I don't know anything about horses," replied the man bluntly to the mischievously smiling girl holding the shaggy little pony by the halter, "I forgot everything I ever knew the moment I found out I had passed my boards and would never look at a horse again, that was over a decade ago."

"That's okay," grinned she the more, "I really didn't want to talk about the horse anyway."

"Then what are you here for?" frowned the flummoxed vet, scratching the back of his ear with the blunt end of his pen. "I'm a busy man," continued he, his frustration not lost upon the girl, though she made no obvious sign or reaction that she had noticed in the least, "I've a dozen patients to get through just this morning, so if you don't have a legitimate reason to be taking up my time, I'd better go back inside?"

"Oh, I've a legitimate reason," smiled she, enigmatic and mysterious, "and I'll see you at Mulligan's at twelve thirty sharp to discuss just that." He actually gaped at her audacity but he didn't say no, he merely turned on his heel and retreated back inside to his waiting cases. The girl watched him go, her smile well-nigh impish, before trotting off with her pony in tow, allowing the distraught man to get on with his busy day.

As he walked dazedly back into the busy small animal hospital, the practice owner met him in the lobby, blocking his way, asking curiously of his grim associate, "how did it go?"

"It didn't," replied Dr. O'Connor bluntly, "there was nothing wrong with the girl's pony, though I'm not so sure I can say the same of the owner. Why'd you ask me to do it?"

"Because you were the man for the job, don't ask me what that means because I don't know," grinned the older vet almost as recklessly as the girl with the micro-horse.

"I'd best get back to work," replied the anxious man, making to push past his boss, but the man blocked his way and said with a grim shake of his head, "not today, Sam."

"What do you mean?!" protested he, "I have patients to see, stuff to do, you're cutting into your own bottom line here!"

"Perhaps," said the older man with a shrug, "but you can't go on like this! You haven't taken a day off in three years. Your numbers are great and your pay reflects it, but what are you saving all that money for? Is there anything to Samuel O'Connor besides his job? What's the point of living if you just lose yourself in your job and that just to keep busy so you don't have to think about whatever it is you're trying to forget?"

"I don't want to talk about it," snapped Dr. O'Connor, "it isn't any of your concern!"

The man could only grin, as if talking to a rather stubborn toddler, "you're my employee but also my friend, Sam," retorted he, "and in both cases, I'm worried about you! Take a sabbatical! Get whatever this is out of your system and you'll come back not only a better vet but a better man. Don't bother arguing, I won't budge, and I'll see you in a month." He pushed a folder into the astonished associate's hands before vanishing down the corridor.

Dr. O'Connor could only blink stupidly for a minute, before storming out into the parking lot, he got in his car and put his head furiously down on the wheel. What was he going to do? A whole month with nothing to think about but his messy past? A whole month with nothing to make him feel important or useful or worthwhile? A whole month of idle misery? He knew not how long he sat there stewing in such wretched thoughts, but as he at last regained conscious awareness of the world around him, he started the car and drove off, glancing at the time, he smiled grimly and knew he'd be just in time for his lunch date, such as it was.

"What's all this about?" queried he of the ridiculously grinning girl, as she took a sip of her iced tea.

"It won't be that easy to get a full explanation out of me," laughed she, eliciting a tiny but hopeful twitch of her companion's lips, what might be an embryonic smile.