Sheltered Hearts

Haley adopted the bad habit of rescuing a new animal every time the ache of loneliness pulled her into its foggy muck. She often joked that the animals would “fill her boyfriend hole,” then pretend not to understand the innuendo. After her animal count reached six cats, two dogs, and a very small tree frog, the local shelter began refusing her adoption applications. 

A kind woman named Claudia called her to reception, lowering her voice, so it sounded like a soft pat on the hand, “I know you want to help them all. But I’m surprised you haven’t run out of room. Maybe you could volunteer?” 

She gave Claudia a tight nod and strung her purse over her shoulder when a man in scrubs pushed next to her, “Do we have any volunteers today? Mine has to leave, and we just had a dog test positive for parvo. We need to close and clean and kennels.”

Haley’s eyes widened. Parvo was deadly in a shelter. It spread quickly through contact, cutting through dogs with vomiting, diarrhea, and death. 

“This is Haley. She just started as a volunteer today. Haley, I’ll take your stuff, and you can go with Jacob.” 

* * * *

The need to adopt and house and care for animals came after a rather humiliating experience that caused a self-imposed ban from all Starbucks in the greater Portland area. Haley’s boyfriend of seven years dumped her, saying that he just didn’t feel the same way about her that she did him. It came as a heartbreaking shock. It was a rough transition full of insomnia, late-night pudding binges, and crying in the shower. The one indulgence she allowed herself was a Starbucks coffee on the way to work at 6 am.

 For Haley, it wasn’t just about the triple iced vanilla lattes in Venti size. It was about the Adonia of baristas. A stunning Turkish woman named April, with soft curves and a honeyed voice that rang with sardonic humor. She would smile and chat with Haley every morning. And for those brief minutes, Haley didn’t feel lonely. She felt seen and like the only person in the world who mattered.

“Hi Haley,” April would whisper conspiratorily, “I saw you pull up, and I was going to get your order ready, but I’d rather chat with you for a few. I hope you don’t mind.” 

Haley didn’t mind. She looked forward to their short chats. Her cheeks would flush, and giggles would curl from her throat. Logically, Haley knew it was April’s job to be friendly. But April had a way of listening that made her feel truly special. Haley would fall asleep at night, thinking about the electricity between them. She fantasized about casually inviting April to the park or sitting on her couch watching movies. She wondered how April chewed her food and if she folded the corners of her books to mark a page. 

As electrifying as those moments were, they inevitably ended. Haley had a busy week at work full of needy coworkers, grumpy clients, and demanding supervisors. It wouldn’t have surprised her if she found a Facebook post touting that Mercury was retrograde or Saturn was in the fifth house. She didn’t follow astrology too much, but she knew something was fundamentally off with the universe. She needed her triple grande iced vanilla latte more than ever as she pulled up to the drive-thru. She ordered two and said it was for a coworker. April made small talk, and Haley groggily soaked in her kindness. 

As she was leaving, four words spewed from Haley’s lips: “Bye, April. Love you.”

Haley made a sharp sound with the intake of her breath. Her eyes grew wide with horror, and her cheeks burned with embarrassment. 

Love you. Love you…love you!!! Her mind flashed emergency signals, and a strong desire to run forced her foot on the gas pedal. She accelerated right into the car ahead of her. When the woman stepped out of her car, she was covered in hot coffee and yelling. As if the moment couldn’t get any worse, Haley rushed to make sure she was okay, then tripped out of her car and awkwardly flailed against the door. 

* * * *

Jacob led her to the inner sanctum of the Humane Society. The smell of litter and antiseptic was thick. The shelter always smelled like a poorly cleaned cat box, but in the back area, there was a sharpness to the smell. A brightness in the fluorescent lights that aggravated Haley’s eyes. She could feel a migraine coming on. Her heart thumped in her chest. She searched for the quarantined dogs, but she could only hear the roar of distant barking. Jacob stopped in front of a row of thick rubber raincoats that reminded her of tarps. She pulled one over her clothes and moved to wash her hands.  

A tap on her shoulder startled Haley and made her jump. Haley blinked, her brain struggling to piece together the person in front of her. Similarly outfitted in a black smock, a beautiful woman with caramel skin and braided hair falling out of a patterned hijab, stood before her. It was April. And she was thoroughly filthy. 

“Haley. Do you remember me? I’m April. From Starbucks. You stopped coming after--” her sentence cut short. 

Haley nodded, “How are you?” 

“Oh, just toiling my life away for the Bucks. And cleaning up shit on the weekends.”

Haley chuckled, tension loosening. The familiar electricity pinging inside her core. She became hyperaware of Jacob standing a few feet away watching.  

“Not seeing you has been kinda sad for me. Can we exchange numbers? We could get dinner or coffee sometime,” she pulled her phone out and handed it to Haley.

Haley punched her number into April’s phone. Her heart pounding in her ears, fingers slickening with sweat. She expected to find kittens and elderly dogs in abused states needing love and care. She didn’t expect to see her old crush. Or anticipate rekindling her sharp, aching, desire for April. 

“Well, I’m done with my shift here, but I’ll text you,” April shoved her phone into her pocket and threw an annoyed look at Jacob.

“Okay,” Haley managed.

“Bye, Haley. Love you,” April grinned and walked away.