Something Worth Saving

by Sandi Ward

  But rest assured it does not slow me down. No—just the opposite. I take pride in my speed. I have worked hard to become as strong as any cat who lives on the river.

  When he saw me in the cage, Charlie lifted me carefully with two hands and told Dad, “I want this one. Look at her long fur. Why hasn’t anyone adopted her yet? She’s so cute.” He laughed. “She’s practically hugging me. Look at her, Dad. I love her already. She wants to go home with me.”

  When the woman in charge of the cages put me on the ground and had me demonstrate how I walk, I looked up at Charlie and Dad to watch their reaction. And I tell you this: They did not frown. No.

  In fact, Dad gave a small smile and nodded, as if I were exactly what he wanted. Charlie looked up into his father’s face, and that was that. Their minds were made up.

  “She’s a little different,” Dad said quietly to Charlie, his hand on the back of his son’s head. “I like that. You know, it’s okay to be a little different.”

  Charlie bit his bottom lip, and I knew that he agreed. And I guessed that, perhaps, Charlie was a little different himself in some way.

  So they brought me home and named me Lily. Dad found a nice bed for me, which I appreciate and sometimes use during the day. But at night I sleep with Charlie on his bed.

  Now that I am older, I appreciate Charlie even more. I know who looks out for me. I know who loves me best. We are as close as animal and human could ever be. So I wish I could do more for him.

  No creature should be mistreated. I did not deserve it, and neither does Charlie. I remember the fear, the constant knot of anxiety in my stomach that I felt when I heard the bad man coming. And I recall how humiliating it was to be too small to fight back. It makes my eyes sting and nose quiver when I think about it.

  Believe me, if I knew who was hurting Charlie, I would scratch his eyes out.

  * * *

  I am sound asleep when the doorbell rings. Charlie jumps up, and I scramble to my feet. It is a loud musical chime that always makes my heart leap. We hear Kevin’s footsteps clomping down the front hall, and the door creaks open. Gretel’s nails click on the wood as she follows Kevin, and she gives a sharp woof woof woof! Her bark of warning echoes up the stairs, but Kevin scolds her, telling her to quiet down. Adult voices murmur, and Charlie puts a hand on my back.

  There is a long pause. “Charlie,” Kevin calls up the stairs, his voice breaking. He does not yell this time, which almost makes it worse. “The police are here to talk to you.”

  Like I said, bad things keep happening.

  Chapter 2

  Serious Face

  Charlie walks down the stairs slowly, one hand on the railing. I watch from the top of the stairs.

  Two young men in blue uniforms stand in the doorway. They don’t step inside, but they study Charlie, looking him over from head to toe several times, as if he must be hiding something. As they question Charlie, Kevin folds his arms and says “sorry” quite a few times with a stern glance at Charlie, as if he is Dad.

  Which he certainly is not.

  “I’m fine. I’m safe,” I hear Charlie plead. “My older brother is here. There’s nothing wrong. I just didn’t feel well, so my friend Karen brought me to her house. Then I came home.”

  There are many more questions. One of the men, with a shaved head, writes down Charlie’s answers on a pad of paper.

  “It won’t happen again,” Kevin promises, putting one hand on the doorframe, as if he’s getting weary and needs to hold himself up. Charlie hangs back, as if he’s nervous the men might try to snatch him and take him away.

  The men warn Charlie that he cannot just leave school anytime he feels like it. Finally they go, getting back into their fancy car in the driveway.

  Once they’re out of sight, Charlie whirls around to face Kevin. “Why didn’t you call the principal back?” He has tears in his eyes, and his bottom lip trembles. “Why didn’t you tell him I was home?”

  “I did.” Kevin shakes his head. “That’s what I don’t get. I did call him right back, and I told him you were fine.” He chews on the inside of his mouth a moment, thinking. “I guess when the principal called Dad, Dad probably told him to send the cops anyway. Just to teach you a lesson.”

  Charlie puts one hand on his forehead, and takes in a deep, shaky breath. I walk over and throw my body against his ankles to help him calm himself.

  “Jesus, Charlie. You deserve it,” Kevin mutters as he walks away, moving down the hall. “You bring this stuff on yourself.”

  Charlie frowns, watching his older brother.

  “I don’t deserve it,” he whispers. But Kevin is already gone.

  * * *

  When she gets home from school, Victoria sees Charlie’s hair and gasps in delight. She tells him she loves it. He flashes her a shy smile.

  If there’s anyone in the family who would appreciate this change in Charlie, it is Victoria. She is interesting to look at, and takes care with her appearance. Victoria has long hair, sleek and dark and shiny. She wears little jewels that sit on her ears and one that she has somehow attached to her nose. Her fingernails are painted striking colors: purple, pink, or blue. And she decorates her collarbone with glittering chains. If she were a bird, I think she would be a graceful blue heron, with a strong back, long neck, and glistening eyes.

  As the middle child and the only girl, you might think Victoria was at a disadvantage in this family. But believe me when I tell you: They all get out of her way when they hear her coming.

  “Do you really like it?” Charlie asks.

  “Yeah,” she gushes. “It suits you. It does.”

  The kitchen is bright and warm, and Kevin rolls his eyes as he sets the table for dinner. “It doesn’t suit him. We all have dark hair. He looks crazy.”

  “What, Kev?” Victoria puts her hands on her hips. “Hey. Jackass. Did you say something?”

  “Nope.” Kevin adjusts a fork and knife so they are perfectly lined up. I watch him swallow, as if his mouth has gone dry.

  We are the babies of the family, Charlie and I, but Kevin is the one with a baby face. He combs his wavy hair and buttons his shirts and keeps himself clean. He has very good grooming habits.

  If Kevin were an animal, he might be a sleek black bear. Neat. Solitary. Quiet unless provoked. I saw a bear once in the woods, at a distance. He didn’t notice me, and I certainly didn’t bother him. I’m not stupid.

  Mom arrives home last, rushing in from work. She is surprised at Charlie’s hair, but doesn’t seem too concerned about it. She starts making dinner, taking a bag of vegetables out of the freezer.

  Mom has been a ball of nerves lately. Distracted. And tired. I know she misses Dad, even though she’s the one who told him he had to move out.

  As the family eats, I lounge on the tile floor, listening to the pleasant sound of silverware clinking and voices murmuring. Gretel, who is black and tan and what they call a “German shepherd,” waits on the opposite side of the room. I think “German shepherd” is just a showy name for a big dog. Gretel is Dad’s dog, just as I am Charlie’s cat. Dad did not take Gretel with him when he moved out, for reasons that aren’t clear to me just yet.

  Gretel’s pink tongue hangs out, panting as she watches the humans eat. While she has the strength and quickness of a wolf, and probably has the skills to survive in the wild, Gretel spends half her time begging the humans for food.

  It’s just chicken. Yes, of course it’s delicious and the savory scent makes my mouth water. But I would never beg for it. One time, Gretel stole raw chicken from the kitchen counter. Raw chicken—imagine! She got in big trouble and made herself very sick. The humans think she is an intelligent dog, but I’m not always sure about that. Her instincts overcome her common sense sometimes.

  Mom sits where she always does, near the window. She pulls her hair back behind her shoulders repeatedly, when it threatens to touch her food. Her eyes flit from Kevin, to Victoria, to Charlie. She doesn’t stare at any one child for t
oo long, but it’s clear she is studying them.

  Mom’s skin is pale, and her face seems to reflect a reluctant understanding of everything around her, as if the world disappoints her in some way. Her hair is thin, warm and brown when she is in the shadows, but glinting as red as a maple leaf when strands catch the sunlight just right. Sometimes she will braid it. Her eyes widen slightly when she sees something that interests her, reminding me of a cat in the darkness. Her mouth is small. It pouts when she is listening carefully to someone, and relaxes when she is thinking about something that pleases her.

  Gretel turns her head, and her ears perk up. A minute later, a knock at the door makes me jump. Could that be Dad? But the family isn’t done eating yet.

  Mom glances at the kitchen clock. “He’s early.”

  Kevin immediately stands, and pushes his chair back. “I’ll get it.”

  Gretel takes off, bounding down the hallway. I don’t know how she always knows it is Dad. I believe it is something about the sound of his shoes on the walkway. Gretel has amazing hearing. I will admit, it is better than mine.

  I follow Kevin and Gretel to the front door. Sure enough, it’s Dad! He studies Kevin with a serious face. It’s a face that lets you know he’s thinking about very important things. “Hey, Kev. Okay if I come in?”

  “Yeah, of course.” Kevin nods. “We’re just finishing up dinner.”

  Hmm. This is interesting. When Dad comes to the house, sometimes he sounds the car horn, and the children all run out to meet him. Other times, he comes to the front door. But Dad doesn’t usually step inside. He waits out on the porch, even in the rain. It seems curious to me.

  And oh, how Gretel loves him! She jumps right up on Dad and tries to lick his face and hands. He rubs the thick fur around her neck with two hands in response.

  I believe she may be happier to see him than the children are sometimes.

  I miss Dad too. When he visits, I can’t get enough of him. There are three things I think about the most when I remember Dad:

  1. Our naps together. On weekend afternoons, Dad would work outside in the yard, and then he and I would nap together on the big couch. His body smelled like sweat, dead leaves, and rotten marsh grass—absolutely wonderful!

  2. The sand. He often had sand in his shoes and socks. On summer days, he would walk barefoot in the house.

  3. His thumb. Dad liked to rub his thumb up against the base of my left ear. I loved how it felt. He always put just the right amount of pressure on my skull. Not too hard, not too soft.

  When we reach the kitchen, Charlie slumps down in his seat. Victoria glances up, but then resumes eating. “Hi, Dad. We’re not ready yet.”

  “I know,” he says, one hand on the back of a wooden chair. He’s staring at Charlie. Who won’t look back at him. “Hey, Charlie. Your principal called me today. Can we talk for a minute?”

  Mom raises an eyebrow. She clears her throat. “Hi, Jeremy. Nice to see you too. What’s this about?”

  Dad keeps his hair short and neat. He has gentle eyes and a fine face, as far as human faces go. But his expression is often set in a frown, his mouth tight, as if he is trying to tolerate something uncomfortable.

  Dad sits. “I got a call that Charlie left school in the middle of the day. The gym teacher reported him missing, and then no one could find him.”

  “So you had the police come?” Charlie grips his fork tightly. “Dad. That was so stupid and ridiculous.”

  “The police?” Mother’s voice goes weak. “What?”

  Dad nods, and looks down at his lap. “When the principal called me, I told him to go right ahead and call the police. Because we have a law that says a fourteen-year-old has to stay in school.” He looks up at Charlie. “You’re lucky we live in a small town where people know each other.”

  Charlie snorts. “Yeah. I’m real lucky.”

  “You are lucky. I’m friends with most of those cops, so I knew they’d go easy on you.”

  Charlie finally lifts his head to squint at his father. “So you told my principal to send the police? Isn’t that a little dramatic? I mean, where else would I be but home?”

  “I DON’T KNOW.” Dad’s voice takes on a deep, harsh tone. I realize that he is very unhappy. I’m sure Dad wishes he could move back home. “Sometimes, I have no idea what you’re thinking. You can’t leave school. You have to stay there. If you need to leave for some reason, I’ll come get you. You can’t just disappear.”

  My whiskers tingle. Maybe Charlie left school because someone is bullying him there. I bet that’s it. I haven’t figured out where Charlie is getting his injuries, but this makes sense—it could be happening at school, during the day. I wish Charlie would say something to Dad. If I were Charlie, I would tell my parents that someone was hurting me. I would allow them to tend to my wounds.

  I would also tell Kevin. He is the older brother and his job should be to protect Charlie. There might be something he could do to help. It makes me angry and frustrated to think that no one even knows about it.

  “You haven’t said anything about his hair.” Kevin gestures toward Charlie. “Dad. Seriously. I mean, did you even notice that he looks different?”

  Dad narrows his eyes and turns toward Kevin. “Can you excuse us, go upstairs, and get your stuff ready?”

  Kevin blanches. “Um, yeah. Sure, Dad. Sorry.” He glances down at his unfinished food. Reaching across the table, he piles his silverware on his plate and grabs his glass, carrying everything over to the sink. With care, he scrapes and rinses each item and places it in the dishwasher, then heads upstairs without a word.

  “We can talk about this more at my apartment,” Dad offers. “Why don’t you guys finish up and get your bags.” He nods toward Victoria. “Okay?”

  “I don’t want to go,” Charlie moans. “Please, can I just stay here this weekend? You’re just gonna watch baseball with Kevin. It’ll be so boring.”

  Victoria takes a look at Dad. He looks exhausted, his face ashen. She gets up, taking her glass and plate to the sink. “C’mon, Charlie. We’ll find something fun for you to do. Let’s go pack.”

  Hanging his head, Charlie gets up, sticks his hands in his pockets, and follows his sister. He leaves all of his things right where they are on the table, knowing his mother will clean up after him.

  “He’s having a rough week,” Mom says quietly, pushing her food absentmindedly with a fork.

  “A rough week?” Dad shakes his head. “He’s having a rough week? He should see my week. Christ. It sounds more like he’s choosing to skip school, and then back-sass me when I ask about it. Goddamn it.” He pinches the bridge of his nose with one hand, and closes his eyes. “If Kevin hadn’t texted me back . . . I swear to God, I would have torn this town apart looking for that kid myself.”

  “But he did text you back. And Charlie was home safe.” Mom stands. “Charlie is okay, Jeremy. You know he’s not the kind of kid who gets into trouble.”

  Dad gets up when he sees Mom moving toward the sink. “Okay. I know. You’re right.” He is still for a moment, watching Mom start to clean up. She rinses plates and ignores him, as if he’s already left. He stares at her back as if there’s something he wants to say, but he’s unable to say it. “Okay. I’m going to go wait in the car. I’ll talk to Charlie tomorrow when I’ve cooled off.”

  Once Dad has shut the front door behind him, Mom turns off the sink faucet. She walks to the foot of the stairs. “Are you guys ready?”

  Kevin comes jogging down, duffle bag over his shoulder. “Change your T-shirt, will you?” Kevin calls over his shoulder to Charlie. “That one’s so bright it hurts my eyes. It’s giving me a headache.”

  Mom hands Kevin his sweatshirt. He leans in toward her.

  “Mom,” he says quietly. “I think it’s okay if Charlie stays home sometimes. Dad and I just want peace and quiet to watch some baseball, you know? But Charlie’s being a pain in the ass lately. We wouldn’t mind a break from him.”

  Mom’s
eyes open wide as she looks up at her son. As the oldest in the family, Kevin says things to Mom that no one else would dare say. He’s a good boy, and she listens to him.

  “Kevin. Your Dad wants Charlie there. Your Dad loves all of you. And he misses all of you. Very much.”

  Kevin pulls the sweatshirt over his head, and shoves his hands in the pockets. “Yeah, I know. He loves all of us. That doesn’t mean Dad wants to hang out with Charlie. There’s a difference, you know? Look, Charlie doesn’t want to be there. He complains the whole time. Charlie’s going through some stuff right now, a phase where he—”

  “Kevin. It’s not—”

  “But maybe if he just stayed—”

  “Shhhhh,” Mom says, rubbing his elbow. “Charlie isn’t coming with you to hang out. It’s not a frat house, or a play date. He needs to see his dad.”

  I understand why Mom doesn’t want to hear it. There may be nothing she can do to fix this. The children have to visit their dad sometimes. It seems natural, and right.

  I wish I could ask Dad why he hasn’t talked to Mom about moving back in. I think he is a little afraid of Mom, and what she might say. Dad moved out after the big winter holidays, under a full moon. Now, the snow has melted, the earth is warming, and a full moon has come and gone several times over. So it has been a while.

  Kevin peeks out the window when lights flash against the walls. “He’s waiting. I’m gonna go.”

  “Kevin, you drive, okay?” Mom turns to him and taps his elbow. “Don’t let him drive. Your dad has been really tired lately.”

  “Sure.”

  As soon as Victoria appears at the top of the stairs, Kevin opens the front door. He runs out, Gretel’s leash in hand. They practically race each other to the car.

  A minute later, Kevin brings Gretel back.

  “Um, Dad said you should keep Gretel.” Kevin hands Mom the leash. “He said he thinks you need Gretel for protection when you’re alone in the house. He said that’s why he got the dog in the first place, for security.” Kevin seems annoyed. “I don’t get it. It’s not like anyone has ever tried to break in here.”