The Procedure by Tabatha Vargo, Melissa Andrea

me again.
    “So what next, Doc?” she asked spiritedly.
    I chuckled to myself as I pulled into traffic. “I’m glad you asked. Ever owned a pet?” I asked.
     

 

 
     
     
    I’D NEVER SEEN anything more beautiful than the way Roman handled the children at the hospital. Even with burns on more than fifty percent of their bodies, they were still able to smile and play happily. I felt low—lower than low, actually.
    Just days before, I was practically begging Roman to change my perfectly fine face, while there were beautiful young girls and boys who would never look the same again. Roman taking me to the hospital to meet his young patients had taught me something about myself that I never knew before. I was selfish.
    Sitting in silence in the seat next to him, I thought about all the things I’d wanted to change about myself. I felt stupid and naïve. I decided in that moment that regardless of what happened with Roman’s “procedure,” I’d opt out of the cosmetic surgery. I didn’t need it. The children at the hospital did. I was beginning to understand Roman and his reasons for reconstructive surgery over cosmetic.
    “A penny for your thoughts?” Roman asked from the driver’s seat.
    “Thank you for taking me there,” I said.
    I didn’t need to explain why I was thanking him. He looked over at me and nodded his understanding.
    “Thank you ,” he countered.
    “For what? I didn’t do anything.”
    “You did more than you realize. You talked to them. You were playful, and not once did I see disgust in your eyes. Not once did you stare. They needed that.”
    I was confused by his words. Why would anyone be disgusted by children? “They’re just kids, and there was nothing disgusting about any of them.”
    And then Roman surprised me as he reached over and grabbed my hand. As he squeezed it softly in his large, warm palm, a sense of euphoria moved through me. The warmth from his hand moved up my wrist until my arm was hot and my body was becoming flushed. I’d never experienced anything like it over something as simple as someone grabbing my hand.
    As soon as it happened, he released my hand and turned his eyes to the road once more. He was totally unfazed by the touch, but I felt like I was coming apart at the seams. It was confusing for me, but I chocked it up to not being touched much for so long.
    The town became familiar as we moved down several streets. The buildings changed in size, and the sidewalks became full of people in the rush of daily life. Finally, he parked in front of a building and began to unbuckle his seat belt. Looking up at the sign, I smiled.
    “Miami Animal Shelter?” I asked, confused.
    Why in the world would he be taking me to the animal shelter? Did he also help animals?
    A wide smile curved Roman’s lips. “Follow me.”
    There were rows upon rows of animals in need of adoption. When I stuck my finger in one of the cages, a tiny, black kitten batted at my finger cutely from its back. I cooed down at it, sure I’d never seen anything sweeter.
    Roman stood at my side and watched me as if I were part of an exhibit. He stood, hands latched behind his back, as I went from cage to cage admiring the animals. He didn’t speak, but just his presence was calming. In the last few hours, I’d learned that Roman made me feel womanly and admired. Even something as small as holding my car door for me—it made my day.
    We moved toward the dogs, the sound of puppies barking and the distinct smell of dog filling the air. I didn’t mind it. In fact, it was something I’d never known. I’d never owned a pet. My dad was allergic and Michael said they were repulsive creatures, but I could understand why people wanted them. They were playful, and I had to admit having someone other than Michael to go home to sounded lovely.
    The ladies of the shelter didn’t take their eyes off Roman. He moved around the room, looking at each animal and occasionally smiling over at me as if I were