by Joy Elbel
“We just came to say goodnight, kiddo,” my dad said as he entered the attic.
Kiddo? Does my dad realize that I’m not eight years old anymore? And who calls people kiddo anyway? He reached out for a hug and my whole body stiffened. Dad and I used to be so close but we drifted apart in the past year and I didn’t know why. He saw me flinch so he patted me on the shoulder instead and said goodnight. Awkward. He left the room hurriedly, leaving me alone with my stepmother. Even more awkward.
I was expecting her to give me a speech about how my dad didn’t deserve to be treated that way—the usual blah, blah, blah. Even though I knew she was right, I didn’t want to hear it from her. I was shocked when, instead, she simply said goodnight and turned to leave.
Then abruptly, she stopped in the doorway. Ah, now I was about to get lectured. “One more thing…you might want to close that window. A storm’s coming and it’s cold enough in here as it is.” She rubbed her arms briskly to warm them up and motioned to the window behind me. The curtain was blowing out about six inches from the glass and looked like it was floating in mid-air.
I nodded, gave a mumbled goodnight, and closed the door behind her. I crossed over to the window and pulled up the curtain. The window was closed.
That wasn’t possible! Dumbstruck, I felt every inch of the window frame, my fingers searching for a draft somewhere along its path. When I found that it was securely sealed, I worked my way around it again, positive that I missed something the first time around. Nothing. I allowed the curtain to fall and stood back to see what would happen. It hung limply and without the slightest hint of movement. Rain now pattered relentlessly against the glass and the wind howled with rage, yet the curtain was lifeless and unmoving. Thinking back to the other unexplainable things from today, I came to one conclusion—the only conclusion. It had to be a ghost. It had to be Lee.
He heard me in the cemetery that morning. He knew that I had to leave so he followed me. Our love crossed the boundaries of life and death. Emotion overcame me and tears spilled out as abundantly as the rain falling from the clouds. I lifted the picture of Lee from its new home on my desk and smiled. I looked into his eyes and felt no pain for the first time since his death.
“Lee,” I called to the heavens, “I know you’re here.” I turned around in a circle, looking for the next sign of his presence. Nothing moved, nothing changed. I waited hopefully, barely breathing in anticipation. I stood like this for what seemed an eternity until I could stand no longer. I dropped to my knees and sobbed. Was he gone so soon? I stayed there on the floor until I could barely keep my eyes open and then sadly dragged myself to my bed. I drifted off to sleep with the photo of Lee on my pillow.
I fell into the dream so quickly that it felt like I was still awake. I was on a dirt path in the middle of a forest. The trees, the earth, the sky—all were painted in various shades of gray. The only color to be found was in my dress which blazed a fiery crimson hue. It flowed down my body and brushed the ground as I walked. I began to panic—where was I? I started to run, small stones cutting into the soles of my bare feet as I went. But the pain was nothing compared to the fear that cut deeply into my soul. But fear of what, I wasn’t sure. I needed to find a way out, a way back to something familiar so I ran until I was breathless.
Ahead, the path ended at the base of a two-story stone building set into the hillside. Two sets of curved steps led from the ground up to the top floor. At the bottom, a statue of a woman stood with arms outstretched, beckoning me to her. She was the only source of comfort in sight so I ran toward her embrace. The scenery crept past me in slow motion, my legs pumped hard but I couldn’t seem to gain any ground. I knew that I needed to get to that statue, that I would be safe there in her arms. But something was holding me back. Something was behind me, pulling me further away from the only thing that could calm my fears. Terror washed over me as I turned to face my enemy. I saw no one but I knew they were there, somehow grasping me by my very soul. It seemed that the more I struggled against it, the stronger it became.
Without warning, blood began to pour from the eyes of the stone face that seemed so peaceful only moments earlier. I was afraid to approach it now but too afraid to turn around. My fear was overwhelming—I tried to scream but I couldn’t find my voice. There was so much blood now that the ground was saturated by it. The crimson river gushed into a pool at my feet and I hoisted the hem of my dress as its sticky warmth wrapped around my ankles. The second it touched my skin, one thing became clear to me. I was going to die here.
5. Lightning Can Strike Twice
The dream and thoughts of Lee were the only things I could think about for the next several days. I spent most of my time in my room despite firm protests from Dad and Shelly. They were afraid that I was withdrawing from life again like I did right after the accident. They even went so far as to threaten to make me move into one of the smaller bedrooms near theirs. I explained to them that I was just trying to get everything unpacked and settled. After all, starting Monday, I would be spending a lot of my time at the animal shelter. That, of course, was a lie. The truth was, I was afraid to leave the attic.
Every time Lee reached out to me, it was in or near my room. If he returned, I didn’t want to miss him. He found a way to be with me from beyond the grave—the least I could do was be there when he made contact. I went downstairs only when necessary—long enough to eat and that was pretty much it. I was never so organized in all of my life. Clothing hung on red satin hangers arranged first by sleeve length and then by color. My shoes were lined up by style and color as well. I even arranged Mimi’s toys in the plastic tote I referred to as her toy box. Mice on the left, balls on the right, anything with catnip in the middle as they were her favorites. It took longer than it should have because Mimi wanted to “help”. For every two toys I put into the box, she would remove one, looking at each as though she’d never seen it before.
But as my vigil proved fruitless day after day, despair set in. Nothing out of the ordinary happened. I tried talking to him, pleading with him to return. I cried. A lot. I tried to take my mind off of it but with no such luck. By Sunday, everything was perfect in my attic retreat except for me. I was a complete wreck emotionally because I felt like I lost him for the second time. The only thing left to take my mind off of things was the task of putting together the cat tree. Tool box by my side, I opened the massive carton, removed the carpeted sections and placed them in a circle around me. I looked at the directions and then back down at the multitude of pieces. Where should I start? Even with the instruction booklet, it was going to be as hard as putting the pieces of my life back together. And that, I had discovered, was damn near impossible.
After several frustrating hours, it was no closer to being done than it was the minute it came out of the box. I looked at the clock to find that it was nearly midnight, far later than I ever would have guessed. It was time to give up on my project and get ready for morning. Andy called earlier to confirm that Rachel would stop to pick me up at about 9:45. It took me close to thirty minutes to pick out an outfit for morning and when I was done, I collapsed into bed. With Mimi cuddled by my side and the photo of Lee keeping watch from my nightstand, I was asleep soon after my head hit the pillow.
I woke up about an hour before the alarm clock was set to go off, suddenly nervous about what was in store for me. I was never good at making friends so it came to a point where I stopped even trying. I was shy and self-conscious, picking apart my own flaws long before anyone else had a chance to. Lee was the only person I ever really felt comfortable with, the only person I knew wouldn’t pick on me. Now here I was alone and forced to find a way to start over.
What would this girl Rachel be like? I was picturing a blonde, bubbly cheerleader type—a popular girl. In short, the exact opposite of me. She was probably just picking me up as a favor to Andy and would only talk to me when he was around. This whole volunteering thing was a mistake. What was I thinking when I agreed to do it? The
problem was I wasn’t thinking but there was no way I could back out now. I slithered out of bed and into the shower dreading what was to come.
By 9:30, I was outside sitting on the front steps waiting for her. I was wearing boot cut jeans and a pair of running shoes from last year’s phys ed class. Mornings were still fairly cool, so I threw a red hoodie on over a black tee shirt. I even put on makeup and straightened my hair—scooping poop or not, I had to make a good impression. Nervously, I twirled a lock of hair between my fingers and watched for a car. It was almost ten when I saw a cloud of dust with a yellow Volkswagen Beetle in it heading toward me. Here goes nothing.
She pulled the car around the circular drive and came to a stop right in front of me. I pulled myself up slowly from the steps, butterflies beating so furiously in my stomach that I felt sure I would throw up. She got out of the car and walked up to me. With one look at her, I realized that every single one of my fears had been realized—this girl was flawless. She was tall, blonde and perfect. She was wearing matching black sweats with the high school’s team logo, the Red Ravens, on the front. Her hair was tied up with a red scrunchie, her golden strands bouncing high atop her head. It figures. She was totally one of those girls that looked good in a ponytail.
“Hi! I’m Rachel Mason. You must be Ruby, Ruby Matthews, right?” She sounded just as bubbly as she looked.
“Yeah, that’s me,” I said awkwardly. I didn’t know what else to say. It’s hard enough for me to talk to strangers, let alone one so perfect, one who could make my senior year a living hell.
She looked up at the house with wide eyes. “Wow! This place is sooo awesome! I’ve never seen it close up! What’s it like living here? You’re sooo lucky! Are you ready to go?” Her words came out in rapid fire fashion making it impossible for me to answer her after every question.
She didn’t seem to expect any real answers though so I merely nodded. Rachel popped a piece of gum into her mouth, took one last awestruck look at the house and said, “Let’s go!” As she turned to get into the car, I could read the writing across the rear of her pants. ‘Cheerleader’ was written in bold red letters stretching from one side of her butt to the other. Wow, did I hit that nail on the head, or what?!
I had no idea what to say to this girl but as it turned out, there was no reason to stress over it. She chattered on about one thing after another so animatedly that I don’t think she even realized that I barely said one word in response. It was only a five minute drive to the shelter, but I heard all about how she and her little brother had been volunteering there for several years, how nice Andy was, and how much she hated her job at the Chicken Shack. The Chicken Shack was a fast food place in the food court at The Village and apparently it took industrial strength laundry detergent to remove the odor of grease from her uniforms not to mention the awful scent it left in her hair.
Rachel continued babbling as she pulled up to a building resembling a large garage. A sign out front read “Charlotte’s Grove Humane Society”. My stomach was a little more settled by this point. She may be beautiful and she may be a cheerleader, but at least Rachel didn’t seem stuck up. She said more to me in five minutes than any of the girls back in Trinity had in the last five years. Unless you counted being picked on for being different—which I didn’t.
The second she opened the front door, the echoes of a dozen separate barks could be heard. It didn’t smell as bad as I expected and it was definitely cleaner than I imagined. Just inside and to the right sat an office barely bigger than a closet. Andy was seated at a small desk, his tall, lanky frame made him look like a giant in a dollhouse. He untangled his long legs from beneath the desk and rose to greet us.
“Hey, good to see you again, Ruby! Are you ready to meet the animals?”
I nodded enthusiastically. Andy was a lot like my dad—correction, like my dad used to be—so I felt even more at ease. “Follow me,” he said with a smile, a smile that never seemed to leave the man’s face.
He led us back a small hallway and I could see the kennels where the dogs were housed. Every tail was wagging and most of them were jumping excitedly at the doors to their enclosures. I liked dogs but I was a cat person at heart. Please don’t let him say I would be bathing dogs all day! I crossed my fingers and made a silent wish and it worked. Andy led us past the kennels to the cat rooms in the back of the building instead. Maybe today wouldn’t be a total disaster after all.
“I talked to your dad a few days ago, Ruby. Everything is arranged so that you can take a new friend home with you tonight. He told me you were all ready for your new addition. I’m sure they’re really going to enjoy the cat tree you got for them.”
Crap! It was only once he mentioned it that I realized I didn’t grab Mimi’s cat carrier this morning. I was too worried about trying to look half decent and not embarrass myself that I forgot all about what was supposed to be the best part of my day. Now, I would have to wait until tomorrow to adopt. I broke the disappointing news to Andy.
“I forgot to bring a carrier so I guess I’ll have to wait until tomorrow. And I tried to put the cat tree together yesterday with no luck there either. I might have to wait until my dad’s not too busy to help—whenever that might be.”
“Oh, that’s not a problem—we have carriers here. You can just borrow one of ours. With tonight being adoption night, I want you to have first pick.” Andy was really cool. I didn’t have an uncle, but I imagined that if I did, he would be just like him. “And as for the cat tree.…”
Rachel cut him off excitedly, “I have a solution to that problem! My brother and I could help you put it together tonight. I can drop you off and then we can come back after dinner. My brother put together every one of the cat trees here—he can practically do it with his eyes closed.”
“There you go, Ruby, two problems solved.” Andy said it in such a way that I felt there was nothing for me to argue about. “Now, let’s get back to business.”
“We have to have the cats ready for tonight so I need you to get the cat adoption room cleaned up first. Rachel will show you everything that needs done, Ruby. Once the room is finished, you can work on brushing the cats and making them look good. It really does help them get chosen. All of that should keep you occupied until about four. I’ll be around all day so let me know if you need anything.”
Four? Six hours hanging out with a girl I didn’t know was going to make for a very long day. Not to mention the fact that she invited herself to my house later for who knows how long. My optimism did a total 180—I was ready for the day to end now and it was barely even started. I hesitated in the hallway as Rachel opened the door to the adoption room sympathizing as I watched her tuck a massive brown and white tabby back inside as he tried to escape. I had as little chance of getting out of this as that cat did.
“That’s King Tut. He’s been here for about a year now. You have to keep your eye on him. He likes to sneak out and sit in front of the kennels—it drives the dogs wild.” King Tut looked up at her with wide, expressive green eyes as though he were trying to protest his innocence. Rachel took some treats out of a jar and offered them to him and he accepted the offering with a loud crunch. He may not have his freedom but at least he had a reward, one thing more than I had.
The sound and smell of treats brought the others running—ten cats in all—and Rachel introduced me to each of them. There were three more tabbies similar to King Tut in color but definitely not size—Shasta, Maverick and Merlin. Two shiny black and white tuxedos, Socks and Scooter, were playing together and Rachel informed me that they were brothers. Their faces were identical with matching white patches running between their eyes. The only way to tell them apart, I learned, was by the small white tip on Scooter’s tail. There were three more in various shades of gray—Sassy, Phoenix and Sherlock. The last of the pack was a tortoiseshell with the biggest yellow eyes I’d ever seen.
“Who’s that?” I asked Rachel, pointing at this last cat.
“That’s Fancy
but we should have named her Grumpy. She doesn’t like other cats—at all. We put her in here hoping to change that. Slowly she’s starting to tolerate them but Andy’s recommending her for a home with no other pets. But she really loves people and I think she would be a good fit for an older person.”
I looked around the room, confused by what I didn’t see. “No kittens?” I asked. Mimi would not be amused if I brought home a playmate the same size as she was.
“Oh, yeah. We have kittens. There’s another room for kittens and nursing mothers plus another room with new arrivals who haven’t had their shots or been neutered or spayed yet. What you see here is just the tip of the iceberg.” When I first met her, I assumed that Rachel was only volunteering there because someone was forcing her to. Most girls who looked like she did wouldn’t willingly spend their summers cleaning litter boxes. But now I could see without a doubt that she cared about each and every one of those animals. Maybe she wasn’t so bad after all.
“Where do we start?” I asked. The sooner we started, the sooner it would all be over. At least for today anyway.
“Well, litter boxes are the worst so I usually like to do them first to get them out of the way. There are 10 boxes but if we tackle them together it shouldn’t take long. Then we can get the blankets and beds in the wash and mop the floor. By that time, they should be ready for lunch so we can get them clean dishes and then groom them when they’re full and ready to fall asleep.” Wow, she really had it all down—I’d never met a cheerleader who could think more than one step ahead of herself. This girl wasn’t like anyone I’d ever met before. And that was a serious compliment.
The hours rolled by so quickly that it was nearly four before I even noticed. Rachel talked. A lot. She would also be a senior at Charlotte’s Grove High School this year and she talked about the yearly open house in August. It was a chance for freshmen and new students to get familiar with the building before the official start of classes in September. She offered to take me and show me around and I was shocked to find myself accepting her invitation immediately. She talked at length about her brother Zach who worked at the shelter as well. Apparently, he spent the first Monday of the month on the road with a man named George. They drove around town collecting food and supply donations from local businesses and patrons of the shelter. I was impressed with the way Andy ran the place and how involved in its success the entire community seemed to be—especially when I learned that it was a no-kill shelter. If nothing else, I at least had the shelter to make living in this town more tolerable.