Something Worth Saving

by Sandi Ward

  Go easy on him. He seems uncomfortable.

  “Okay,” she finally says. “I guess you’re right. Never mind what I said. But you could be a little more chatty.”

  “I couldn’t think of what to say.”

  “How about: Where are you from? Where’d you go to school before? How do you like the sailing team? What team do you follow in soccer? Blah-blah-blah-blah-blah?”

  Charlie kicks a small rock. “He didn’t have time for all that.” I watch the rock roll away.

  Victoria reaches out to give Charlie’s shoulder a gentle push. “I think he’d make time for you. He completely stopped running. He stood there in the middle of the street. He couldn’t wipe the stupid smile off his face. C’mon, Charlie.”

  “I don’t know about that,” Charlie objects, but he’s looking away now. Thinking about it.

  I’m a little confused. Is Victoria suggesting that Charlie needs to be more aggressive about making new friends? I suppose that must be it.

  Charlie has always been tentative with other people. He watches and waits. He is careful. I think he feels safer keeping to himself sometimes.

  “Hey, Vic,” Charlie says, wincing, “Don’t say anything to Kevin, okay? I mean . . .” He glances down the street. “Don’t mention Ronaldo.”

  Victoria opens her mouth, as if to object, but then shuts it tight. She swallows and makes a face like she has a sore throat. “Sure. Yeah, okay. I won’t. He doesn’t need to know. He’s been kind of a jerk lately. He thinks he’s the boss now that Dad’s gone.”

  Aidan too, I remind her. Don’t leave him off your list of idiots.

  Charlie gets his backpack centered on his back, and reaches down to pick me up. I explode in a purr at the touch of his hands. It reminds me of lying on Dad’s chest. Dad and Charlie have the same strong but gentle hands. They have the same eyes. The same scent.

  Dad and Charlie. Both sensitive in their own ways.

  I’m determined to help my sweet boy, if I can just figure out how. I think if Dad is not moving back home, then Mom must be the key. She has been tired, and sad, and miserable. There must be a way to help her feel better, so she can focus more energy on Charlie.

  I hate seeing Charlie’s bruises, and I don’t like to think that what happened to me as a kitten is now happening to Charlie as a young man. It is forcing me to think about those days when I was young and helpless, and I can’t stand thinking about it. I’ve worked hard and come a long way, to the point where I forget about my injury most of the time. It is usually only the reaction of new humans when they see my limp that reminds me. But now I’m forced to think about it.

  I don’t want Charlie to be badly hurt, which is what could eventually happen. If he were permanently scarred in some way, the way I am, I would blame myself.

  But soon I come to realize that this task of getting Mom to concentrate on Charlie will be harder than I anticipated. There are other distractions brewing.

  Chapter 11

  Wedding Photo

  “Vincent and I had a vision for this room,” Mom announces, moving her hands back and forth in the air.

  Mark nods. “Yes. Right. He gave me the plans.”

  “No, I mean more than just the plans.” Mom pouts, staring at the blank wall. “I mean we had a vision.”

  Mark looks around the room, as if he’s missing something that’s floating in the air around him. “Right. I’ve got all the measurements. I’m not winging it. He gave me a detailed sketch.”

  Mom sighs, and I would sigh right along with her if I could. Mark clearly doesn’t understand her at all.

  Mark can see Mom is frustrated. He reaches into the back pocket of his jeans and pulls out a piece of paper. Mom watches him unfold it. Mark frowns at the paper, as if trying to decipher a mysterious message.

  While he’s distracted, Mom studies his face. I watch her gaze move, tracing the outline of his shoulder. She then looks at his arm, and her eyes stop at his hands on the paper.

  Hmm. I feel like Mom is trying to learn the outline of his body. She is sizing him up, but for what purpose, I cannot guess. She cannot doubt that he is strong enough to build this bookcase. He is tall and sturdy. But from the hard time she is giving him, I think perhaps she doubts his mental ability to put it together correctly.

  “Look. Mark. Forget the sketch for a minute.” She marches over to the wall, breezing past him, and spreads out her arms. “Just think about the big picture. We’ve got the fireplace in the middle. We want to build a new hearth around it. The shelving will go on either side of it. But the problem is . . .”

  I tune Mom out and pivot to study Mark. He listens about as long as I do, but as soon as her back is to him, his head tips to one side as he takes in her hair. Then his eyes trail down to her waist. He watches her with eyes glazed over, and I realize he is seeing but not hearing. I imagine he is dreaming of something. A small smile comes to his mouth, and I can see he is pleased by his own thoughts.

  Perhaps he is impressed with how red Mom’s hair is when the sunlight catches it at the right angle. I have never seen another human with hair quite that color.

  Between Mom’s grand “vision” and Mark’s daydreaming, I’m afraid the two of them may be far apart in terms of getting this project done in a timely way.

  They end up talking for a long time. Mom finally relaxes and sits on the couch, and I jump up and lie next to her. Mark slouches on the other side of the couch, so I am between them. The three of us are quite comfortable, sunk down into the old cushions.

  Mark listens carefully, and talks a lot, using his hands and arms to illustrate his ideas. Mom sometimes frowns at his comments, cautious, as if afraid he is leading her into a trap. But I can see he is a natural storyteller, and she is intrigued.

  I have watched and listened to enough humans to see who feels awkward about making conversation and for whom it is very easy. Mark belongs with those humans who find talking easy.

  I realize at that moment that Mark is the polar opposite of Aidan.

  Aidan always appears gloomy, like he finds the world around him depressing and annoying. As if he assumes others will not want to talk to him or listen to him. As if the sound of other voices grates on him.

  Mark, on the other hand, is relaxed at all times, breaking into a wide smile at the smallest provocation. Mark smiles even when Mom does not smile back. He looks Mom in the eye, always has a reply, and eventually makes her comfortable. As if he is used to people agreeing with what he says. And—even more impressive—he listens as if what others have to say is very interesting.

  At one point, I realize that Mom has her hand on my neck, her fingers gently scratching under my ear. At the same time, Mark has his hand on my tail and he occasionally strokes my back.

  I’m amused to be the center of attention for two humans at once!

  At the same time, I realize they’re not really focused on me at all.

  When I hear the refrigerator open, my ears spring to attention. I get up, and scamper into the kitchen to see who is preparing food.

  Victoria and Aidan are in constant motion, hustling back and forth from refrigerator to stove. From the scent and the heat and the sound of butter sizzling in a pan, I realize they are making something good. Gretel paces around their legs, eager and excited, until Kevin enters the room and points at her.

  “Sit.”

  She sits. Kevin, in her eyes, is second-in-command to Dad. Kevin spends a lot of time walking and playing with Gretel.

  So she obeys. But her big brown eyes are still melting, pleading, begging.

  I turn, and flop down on the tile floor away from the action. I know well enough to stay out of the way. Perhaps I’ll get a scrap of cheese in my bowl at some point, but I don’t beg. I’m not that hungry, for goodness sake.

  Aidan makes a tsking sound with his tongue, and shakes his head. “Man,” he says quietly to Kevin, who pours himself a drink of lemonade. “It’s only been a few months and your mom has a boyfriend already. Who
would have guessed.”

  Victoria turns sharply and smacks Aidan’s arm. “Shut up.”

  “They can’t hear me,” he argues. “The door is closed.”

  Kevin turns to look. There is a door with glass panels between the kitchen and the study. It is, in fact, almost closed. Not quite. It was open just wide enough for me to slink out. We can hear Mom and Mark talking, but it is muted. We can also see them, but Mom’s back is to us. They aren’t paying any attention to the children.

  “What the hell are you talking about?” Kevin asks. He doesn’t take his eyes off Mom, and looks genuinely concerned.

  Aidan comes up behind Kevin and puts a hand on his shoulder. “Sorry to break it to you. But the new guy is obviously enjoying your mom’s company. Trust me. I’ve got a sixth sense about these things. I’ve seen enough guys with my mom to know what I’m talking about.”

  “What?” Kevin sounds disgusted.

  “Dude. If he didn’t care about impressing her, he’d still be working. Or maybe he’d talk while working, to be polite to the customer. But he’s literally sitting there, entertaining her, like he has all the time in the world. He has a captive audience.”

  “Gross,” Victoria mumbles, flipping a sandwich in the pan. “My mom’s not interested. You don’t know my mom at all. She’s not like that.”

  Aidan turns back to Victoria. “Oh, yeah?” He pokes her shoulder. “She doesn’t seem to be in any hurry to get up off that couch. If she’s not interested, then why did she schedule him to start coming three afternoons a week, and tell you she’s going to be leaving work early to meet him? We’re not going to have any privacy anymore.”

  Victoria shrugs. “He works in a kitchen all morning, so the only time he can come is in the afternoon. And my mom prefers to be here so she can keep an eye on his work and so there’s not a total stranger working in the house when she’s not here. Besides, who cares? I don’t,” she grumbles, sounding like she does in fact care very much. “They won’t bother us.”

  “Um, yeah. That’s my point.” Aidan crosses his arms across his chest triumphantly. “They’re not going to bother us, because they’re into each other. Point made. Case closed. Mission accomplished.”

  Kevin’s brows furrow. “No. No, no, no. My mom and dad are going to work things out.” He taps Aidan on the arm. “Hey. Listen. My dad said they were taking a break. That means he’s probably going to move back in soon.” Kevin reaches behind Aidan to grab a loaf of bread. He rips open the plastic bag, pulling out two slices and putting them on a plate. “That guy just has no idea what he’s doing, so my mom has to supervise his every move. He practically cut his hand off the first day he started working here. He’s an idiot. I don’t know why Vincent hired him.” Kevin’s voice cracks, and he clears his throat. “He’s too young for my mom anyway. Seriously. Look at him. How old is he, do you think? In his thirties?”

  Aidan runs his thumb over his bottom lip. His gaze shifts away, then slides back to Kevin.

  Well! This is interesting.

  Kevin has never asked Aidan for advice before. In fact, Kevin usually avoids Aidan like he’s a garden snake.

  I can almost see the wheels turning in Aidan’s mind as he makes a few quick calculations. Deciding how to react. As I mentioned, Aidan is keenly aware of human dynamics.

  He can sense power shifting in a room. I can feel it too.

  “Why don’t we find out?” Aidan suggests, with a nod toward the counter. “There’s the guy’s wallet and phone.”

  Kevin draws in a sharp breath. “Um. We shouldn’t touch his stuff.” He freezes, a piece of bread still in his hand. “I mean, he’s right there. He might see us.”

  Aidan takes a few steps closer to the wallet. I can’t quite see what he’s doing from my angle on the floor, but I watch him rearrange some papers on the counter, move a stack of mail, and shuffle items around. “Nah. He’s deep in conversation.” Aidan glances toward the doorway, and seems satisfied.

  Tracking Kevin’s eyes, I assume Aidan has moved the wallet close to the sink, out of Mark’s line of sight. Kevin just stares at the counter, unable to move.

  Aidan sighs when he sees Kevin can’t—or won’t—touch the wallet. “Okay. Fine. I’ll look.” Aidan picks up the wallet, his back to the glass door, and rifles through it quickly. “His license says he’s . . . yeah, he’s gotta be ten years younger than your mom.” He flips something over. “Awwww. Bad news, guys. Sorry to disappoint your mom.”

  “What?” Victoria asks, curious. She turns, spatula in hand.

  Aidan holds up what appears to be a small square picture. “Wedding photo.”

  “Oh.” Victoria puts a hand on her hip. “Well, that’s okay. I guess.”

  Kevin’s eyes open wide, in relief. “Good. He’s married. That’s good. Really good.” His whole body seems to relax. “So, okay. Put that back where you found it.”

  Aidan peeks up from the wallet. “They’re still talking?”

  Kevin checks. “Yeah.” He sounds frustrated to have to admit that. He unscrews the lid from a jar of peanut butter and stabs his knife down into it.

  Aidan pulls a piece of green paper out of the wallet, and stuffs it in his back pocket. I assume that he is taking money. I don’t know what money is for exactly, but I know it holds value. Aidan puts the wallet back down on the counter, and slides it to its original position.

  When Aidan glances up, Kevin is staring at him.

  Kevin the Scout.

  Kevin the baby-faced oldest child.

  The two young men seem to communicate something with no words.

  Maybe there are no words for this.

  Perhaps Aidan feels he has earned something by his actions. And Kevin seems to decide, in that moment, that he is not going to challenge Aidan. I’m not sure it’s a wise decision, but I understand. After all, Aidan did just help him out.

  There is also the fact that Kevin has no love for Mark. He can’t stand that Mark is here eating up Mom’s attention. What does Kevin care if Aidan takes Mark’s money?

  Kevin just turns away and jabs the knife into the jar of peanut butter again, with even more force. Gretel senses the anxiety in the room, and starts pacing.

  “Your grilled cheese is ready,” Victoria calls out. Aidan turns and starts walking toward her.

  “Awesome. You’re the best. I’m starving.”

  Now I know for sure that Aidan is capable of theft. I have seen it with my own eyes. Kevin is my witness.

  It makes me wonder once again if Aidan is capable of hurting Charlie. I cannot believe I ever considered giving him the benefit of the doubt.

  Crook!

  I give a loud meow! Just to let Aidan know I saw what he did.

  All of the children turn their heads to look at me, surprised. Victoria laughs. “You hungry, Lil? You want a grilled cheese too?”

  I just stare at her. I love my humans, but sometimes they can be foolish.

  I slink away before they try to put food in my bowl. I’ve lost my appetite once again.

  Aidan is a thief, and Victoria doesn’t know it. Mom seems distracted by Mark. Dad won’t stop drinking, so he is not welcome at home. How can I get anyone to help Charlie when my humans keep making things more complicated?

  Chapter 12

  Soap

  A few days later, Aidan comes over after school. I hear the hum of the television and pad downstairs to see what’s going on. I find Victoria in the kitchen preparing snacks, and I watch her set out cheese and crackers on a big red plate. Gretel paces and then sits very still, hoping that if she’s good she will receive a chunk of cheese thrown her way, which she does. Victoria joins Aidan on the couch, placing the food on the little table in the middle of the room. It looks like there is something on the TV they both want to see, something important.

  When they’re done eating, Victoria snuggles closer to Aidan and rests her head on his shoulder. He supports her, a hand around her back, holding her close.

  “Jeez. Another scho
ol shooting,” she murmurs, turning her head toward his chest. “It’s so sad.”

  “Yeah,” he answers, although he doesn’t sound sad. Rather, he sounds frustrated. “Crazy people with guns.”

  “It’s sad, isn’t it?” she asks, as if she might be wrong about it.

  “Of course.” He sits up straighter. “It’s ridiculous. Ludicrous. People shooting and killing each other for stupid reasons. I don’t get it. I don’t know why your dad and brother are so hot on guns.”

  My tail twitches. Is that what people do with guns?

  Humans shoot and kill each other?

  I had no idea. The very thought of it is shocking. I have never seen a human kill another human. Does it happen often?

  I suppose it makes sense. I know that sometimes animals attack their own kind over food or a mate.

  Humans must attack each other too sometimes, although I rarely see it. In my experience, humans talk things out. And sometimes yell. Or even throw things. But I’ve never seen two humans have a physical fight.

  Is that why humans kill each other with guns, I wonder? Lack of food? Or to compete for a mate?

  It boggles my mind.

  Victoria reaches up and runs her fingers gently through Aidan’s hair, and he leans into it. She strokes his head over and over. His eyes flutter closed and he sits very still.

  When he finally stirs and opens his eyes, they are wet. He takes Victoria’s open palm and presses it to his cheek, which is not the intimate kind of gesture I usually see him make.

  She sits up. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

  “Yeah.” His voice is scratchy. “It’s just that no one ever . . .”

  “What?”

  He breathes out heavily, like he’s needed to exhale for a full minute. “That just feels really good. No one ever touches my hair like that. What I mean is, no one ever touches me at all. No one but you has touched me in probably . . .” He thinks about it. “Maybe a year.”

  “What?” Victoria spits out. “Like, not even your mom? Doesn’t she run her fingers through your hair?”

  Aidan chuckles. “My mom? No. Jesus.” He rolls his eyes, like this is the craziest thing he’s ever heard. “No, Vic.” His eyes are still moist, his heart silently pleading with her. “My mom doesn’t do that. That’s not her style.”