The Vigil
Mike’s call on the second evening confirmed my worst fears.
“Emily, I don’t know how to tell you this, but Dumbo’s not eating.”
My blood ran cold. “What do you mean, not eating?”
“I mean not a single bite since you’ve been gone. He won’t touch his food, barely drinks water. He just sits in his corner staring at the spot where you usually put your chair.”
I felt tears welling up in my eyes. “Mike, elephants can’t go without food for days. His health—”
“I know. I’m monitoring him around the clock. But Emily…” His voice broke slightly. “I think he’s waiting for you.”
Against doctor’s orders, against all common sense, I checked myself out of the hospital the next morning. I was still weak, still nauseous, but I had to get back to him.
