Stinging Nettles - Part III (fiction)

The weekend passed. Daniel came away from his time at Sunrise feeling as he always did: glad that he put in the effort which was pretty minimal on his part, though he knew it was likely the highlight of the week for the residents that he took out; frustrated when a couple of them mentioned that it had been ages since their kids had paid them a visit (he tried to tell himself that perhaps their children had in fact visited, but that maybe the visits had been forgotten as a result of Alzheimer's or dementia); sad about some of the indignities that are endured by the elderly at the end of their lives; and happy and appreciative of his own life.
On Saturday night he met up with some friends to see a movie, and afterwards they went to a nearby pub for drinks. Some friends of his friends were there and he ultimately ended up at a larger table of people, three of whom he hadn't met before. One was a young woman who had clearly had too much to drink and had taken a shine to him. Her name was Kate.
"So what do you do?" she asked him for the second time in an hour.
"I'm a veterinarian," he answered. Studying her face to see if she would remember that she had already asked him this question and that he had already answered it.
"Oh my god!" she exalted. "So do you ever have to euthanize any of the animals?"
Daniel felt another pair of eyes on him and looked slightly to his left to see his friend, Scott, encouraging him with arched eyebrows. Daniel felt compelled to roll his eyes to indicate that yes, while Kate was a vision of loveliness and was all but spilling out of her low cut top, she really didn't warrant the age old "you're in" eyebrow waggle, but he did not because lying about his job to an inebriated girl was one thing, but performing an eye roll under her purview was definitely another.
"No, I don't euthanize them myself: my assistant does it-" he began.
"I saw this thing on t.v. the other day about this dog - I think it was a golden retriever - that was hit by a car. Anyways, his legs were so badly mangled that they had to amputate them so they rigged him up with, like, this kind of trolley thing. Like a little wagon, do you know what I mean?" she implored.
He nodded.
"Anyways, it was really kind of amazing. Like, how the animals adapt and everything," she finished.
He nodded again and decided he wanted to go home.
She leaned towards him and said in a low voice, as though conspiring with him, "Sometimes I prefer animals to humans, if you get my drift".
He nodded a third time and his eyes wandered over her face, so close to his. She was quite attractive, with flawless, slightly tanned (and slightly flushed) skin. Her long blond hair was tucked neatly behind her ears. She was slim and exuded the kind of healthy vibe that he often noticed with people that spent their summers skim boarding at the beach and snowboarding throughout the winter. And her breasts were quite prominently on display.
He knew, too, that this wasn't who she was. He was quite sure that over coffee at 2pm in the afternoon she would be a lovely individual with whom to chat and that she was likely significantly more articulate than she was at the present moment. And he saw in her (or projected on to her) the loneliness that comes - sometimes overwhelmingly - that drives people to perform intimate acts with strangers, to welcome the unknown into their apartments, their bedrooms.
He fast forwarded through all the paces. He would lean towards her, display attentive and interested body language, pay her a couple of compliments, suggest that they leave this place and go grab a coffee, he would tell her that she was beautiful and that he knew it was sudden but would she like to come home with him and she would coyly agree, as though she had ensnared him in some way. They would sleep together and it would be adequate and then in the morning she would be ashamed and maybe wouldn't remember his name and one or both of them might try and validate the prior night's events by telling the other that they would like to see the other again for coffee and, after some more awkwardness and explanations like "I'm sorry, I don't normally drink that much" and reassurances that the prior night's behaviour was in no way a reflection of their personality, they would exchange a chaste kiss (cause how could they not, given the various places they had placed their urgent mouths the night before) and would go their separate ways.
And perhaps on another night he might engage in this age old dance, but it wouldn't be tonight. He looked at Kate and he felt a strange sort of protectiveness towards her. If he didn't go home with her, she would very easily find someone else. That someone else might not be as nice or thoughtful, and either way she would likely regret her actions in the morning.
He suggested to Kate that they leave and go for a coffee.
She readily agreed.