“Yes!” he said with conviction. “My cat of twelve years died last year—”
“I never took you for a pet person.”
“I’m not a barbarian, Vera.”
“I guess I just thought you would have an exotic fish tank in your fancy cardiology practice and that would be enough animal companionship for you. But I’m sorry. I derailed you. Your cat...”
“Right. So Bear—”
“Your cat was named Bear?” That was aggressively cute.
His brows arched in mock annoyance.
“No more interruptions!” I promised.
“Okay, so when Bear died, the vet’s office made this huge deal of him crossing this supposed Rainbow Bridge and then they even had a Rainbow Bridge out front that crossed over the saddest pond I’d ever seen. When you pick up your pet’s ashes, you’re supposed to walk over the bridge with them.”
“Well, that’s cheesy, but it could be sort of comforting for some people, right?”
“It was patronizing.”
I nodded along. “I am outraged on your behalf.”
“Losing Bear wasn’t easy, okay? I’d gotten him for Brigid, but then it turned out that her mom developed a late-in-life allergy to cats, so Bear came to live with me and... Don’t laugh...”
“I will do my best.”
“My house was henceforth called the ‘catchelor pad.’”
My eyes burned at how goddamn sweet that was. “That is the single greatest thing I’ve ever heard.” I held up my drink. “To Bear!”
Eli clinked his glass against mine and took a long sip.
“So how did Bear get his name?”
“Well, would you believe me if I said it was a family name?”
I laughed and motioned for him to continue.
“My first pet was a hamster. I was four. I named her Bear. I don’t know why. But I was distraught when she ran away, and then we got a goldfish.”
I held up a hand. “Your hamster ran away?”
“She was in her little hamster ball and I guess my dad left the garage door open one day. We never saw her again.”
“That’s... traumatic.”
“Exactly. My peanut-size brain thought that maybe I wouldn’t miss Bear the hamster so much if I named the new fish Bear as well. And then it stuck. Bear the corgi, Bear the gecko, Bear the betta fish.”
“So the child who was devastated by loss decided to go into a profession that forced him to regularly confront it? That feels masochistic.”
He waved me off. “That’s human loss. Much different. Now, if I were a veterinarian,thatwould be masochism.”
We finished our drinks and Eli closed out his tab to rescue me from the live music that only seemed to be growing in volume.
“So that’s it?” I asked as we stepped back outside. It had cooled down a little, but the damp humidity still clung to our skin. “Anything besides the Rainbow Bridge?”
“Oh, I’ve got plenty.” He held out his hand and began to count out his red flags on his fingers. “Finance bros, people who sayDie Hardisn’t a Christmas movie, and my uncle Barry. It’s a long saying but trust me. The guy is such a sketchy doctor that someone made a podcast about him.”