CV
"My waist is killing me," grunts Henry without taking his eyes off the road. "I'm sure I'm way too young for this and yet…"
It's early morning: Eleven should be at school, but since neither she nor Henry particularly care about the notions of "education" or "school responsibility", they have chosen to head to a veterinary clinic outside the city. "If Poe has really healed, it would be difficult to explain it to the one who has decreed him a short time to live" is Henry's convincing argument to which she subscribes without any objection.
That's how she finds herself sitting in the seat next to him, Poe on her lap.
"You still feel weak?" she asks him, worried. "I thought you rested… Maybe we should go back…"
"No, I'm fine," he assures her. "I rested, but I don't know why my waist area feels... stiff."
She's about to insist when she remembers what she saw the night before. "It's Poe's fault," she blurts out.
Henry frowns and gives her a quick glance before looking straight ahead again. "Sorry?"
"Poe slept between your legs," she explains. "He probably forced you to maintain that position all night and… And that's why that whole area hurts now…"
Henry throws an offended look at the cat, who only responds with one of his own, as if to say "yes, and what do you plan to do about it?"
"We found him a couple of days ago," Henry lies. "Could you do a general checkup?"
The vet doesn't object. After a few minutes, he declares: "The physical checkup's result was excellent: a cat in perfect health. We'll still draw some blood to rule out infections. Is that okay?"
"Of course."
"Perfect. The results will be ready tomorrow afternoon."
As they are about to leave, Poe casts a look of utter disdain towards the vet who poked him.
"Thank you so much…"
"You're welcome," the boy on the other side responds; Eleven hears the smile in his voice. "See ya' later, Jane."
"Bye-bye…" Eleven hangs up the phone and goes to Henry, who is setting the table for dinner. "I've already talked to Dustin: he says there's no problem; he has no plans on Sunday."
"Excellent. Will he help you to—?"
The phone rings.
"Ah, maybe he's forgotten… something…?" Eleven murmurs as she answers the call. "Hello…?" Absolute silence greets her. "Who is it…?" When no one answers, Eleven purses her lips and hangs up.
"Wrong number?" Henry asks from the dining room.
"I think… the line or the phone or something had problems… Nobody spoke…"
"It was probably to try to sell you something."
"Surely." She shrugs. "I'll be in my room with Poe. Will you let me know when dinner is ready?"
"Sure, I estimate it'll be about half an hour now."
"Thank you."
She smiles at him before heading to her room; he smiles back.
Henry waits until he hears the characteristic sound of Eleven's door closing.
Then, he places the plate he had in his hands on the table and walks to the phone.
He picks it up and dials a number. Finally, he presses the receiver against his ear.
"Hello…?" The female voice on the other side instantly greets.
Henry smiles softly, so she can hear it in his voice. "Did you call, Angela?"