Pinky blinks and tucks her snout beneath her wings.
The next day, Coop turns on the faucet and there is no water. The whole facility is out. He thinks, he should call his daughter. There’s no reason he can’t call his daughter. She might come. But he can’t. She has her own problems now, her own adult burdens, her job, her kids, her own grandkid to deal with, her own grief, the loss of her mother, the neglect of her foolish father. Why should she come to his aid when he has pushed her aside for all these years? He will be okay without water. Maybe it’s a blessing in disguise. Is dehydration a painful death? He searches for answers on his ElderScreen, but it only spits back feel-good videos of families who survived The Great Flood and The Great Drought and The Great Aftermath. “We’re just lucky to be alive,” says a woman with a baby. “The administration is providing all the drinking water we need. And food, and shelter. Everything’s fine. We’re so grateful.” It’s all bullshit, but Coop watches video after video, soothing himself with lies until he falls asleep.
Skrit. Skrrrrr-it.
When his eyes open, Pinky is nudging her empty water dish across the floor. She is thirsty, and it frightens him into action. He knocks door to door, doors he has never knocked on before, asking if anyone has a bit of water to spare. He is careful to skip Brooklyn B.’s room. The whole ordeal is mortifying enough as it is. The only thing worse than needing something is asking for it. But the other residents come through, one drip and one splash at a time, offering the dregs of bottles and cups, the remnants of a wrung-out washcloth, a shaky spoonful from the back of a toilet tank. When the bowl is halfway full, he presents it to Pinky. She drinks in her own strange way to which he has become accustomed: dipping her beak down, then scooping her head back so the water can run down her gullet. Dip and scoop, dip and scoop, until the bowl is empty again. He wishes he could provide. He should release her outside where she can find a pond or a stream. He should do it. He should let her go. He is up all night thinking about it. It’s her best chance of survival. He should. He must. He doesn’t.