by A.W. Hartoin
Chapter Twenty
CATS ARE HARD to find normally. Trying to find a cat when you’re holding a travel carrier is near to impossible. My apartment didn’t help either. It had plenty of dark corners and crevices just big enough to hide a six-pound feline with nerves of spaghetti. Stale air and the smell of mold snaked around me as I searched. There wasn’t enough Febreze in the world to fix it. My building was built in the twenties and what it lacked in light and ventilation it made up for in character. At least that’s what I told myself. Crown molding is important. Damn it.
So I searched for Skanky in the semidarkness, packed, searched, and then searched again. After a can of Fancy Feast didn’t produce results, I started thinking that he’d gotten out. Panic had just set in when I heard a faint ‘yow’ in the bedroom closet. Skanky was hiding in an old shoe box in the back. He hadn’t cleaned his fur recently and looked freaked out. He always had an element of freak, but that day it was more than average. His yellow eyes darted around and his claws were extended for no reason. When I reached for him, he jumped out of the box and buried his claws into the deep carpet. It took ten minutes to pry him off. Then I gave him a good brushing and put him in his carrier. I was a bad mama, but my mama would have to make it up to him.
Skanky yowled and hissed when I put him into the 300. He’d been a desperately ill kitten when I rescued him and he never liked being in a vehicle. He always thought we were going to the vet or worse. Worse being a visit to the evil Siamese.
“Quiet,” I said. “We’re not going to the vet.”
Skanky went bat shit crazy at the word ‘vet’, banging his head against the door and flipping over to claw the top. All the while yowling like he was in the middle of an anal gland exam. It’s a good thing I didn’t mention the Siamese. He probably would’ve tried to bite himself to death.
He continued the insanity for the few minutes it took to get to my parents’ house. I did feel guilty, but enough was enough. After a couple of days with the Siamese, he’d be happy to see me. That is, if he survived. The Siamese weren’t partial to company, human or otherwise. They liked to tag team him when Mom’s back was turned.
“Sorry, boy. I don’t have time to find a kennel,” I said.
Skanky’s yowling went to a higher decibel as I spotted Pete’s car in the alley next to my truck. That couldn’t be a good thing. I didn’t think he would voluntarily see my parents without me unless something was seriously wrong with Dad. I parked and sprinted up the back walk, leaving Skanky yowling in my wake.
Mom and Pete sat at the kitchen with iced teas in hand. They were calm and looked at me with mild surprise.
“Hello, sweetie,” said Mom.
“Where’s Dad?” I said.
“Right here.” Dad sat on the window seat propped up with Mom’s sari pillows and covered to the chin with afghans.
“What happened? What’s Dad doing down here?”
“Nothing and we helped him down. He’s getting stir crazy. What’s wrong with you?” Mom looked at me with her perfectly sculpted eyebrows raised to points.
“Well, what are you doing here?” I looked at Pete feeling angry and stupid at the same time. Damn them for being so obtuse.
“Your mother asked me to come over and take out the IV,” Pete said.
“That’s it?”
“Something wrong with that?” Pete shrugged his shoulders and raised his palms at me. “I could’ve done it,” I said.
“You were busy,” Mom said.
“Not that busy. So he’s better?”
“He’s sitting right here.” Dad glared at me, tried to raise an arm and gave up after a feeble attempt. I walked over, the fear draining out of me with every step. I touched his forehead and tucked the afghan in around him. He smiled. “You were worried.”
“I was not.” I sat down on the floor and lay my head on the seat cushion. “God, I’m tired.”
“Not too tired to go to Lincoln,” Dad said.
“What makes you think I’m going to Lincoln?”
“Your cat yowling in the car.”
Skanky’s yowls managed to get all the way through the yard, butler’s pantry, and into the kitchen. His voice was the biggest part of him.
“Go get that animal before the neighbors start complaining,” said Mom.
I tromped back to the car to get him. Skanky thanked me by peeing out the back of the carrier and narrowly missing my leg.
“I should’ve left you in the car, you ungrateful wretch.”
Hiss.
“Fine, let the Siamese eat you. See if I care.” I opened the cage and tossed him into the kitchen.
“Are you talking to that cat again?” Mom never called Skanky by his name. I wasn’t sure if she disliked the name or the cat.
“Yes. Unlike everyone else in this family, he listens.”
“If that isn’t the pot calling the kettle black. When was the last time you listened to me?” asked Mom.
I had to think. I was sure I had at some point, but I couldn’t narrow it down.
“See what I mean,” she said.
“Well, the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.” Dad wavered on his seat, but looked better. His eyes had lost their hound dog look and the color was back in his face. “Have you packed?”
“Yes, I’ve packed.”
“You’re really going?” Pete looked at me with astonishment. He must’ve thought Dad was joking.
“I have to. Dad can’t and it needs to be done quickly.”
Dad nodded his approval and closed his eyes. Pete frowned, but, being sandwiched between my parents, he wasn’t in a position to make a fuss.
“I’ll be fine. It’s just fact-checking really,” I said.
“How long?” Pete said.
“Two days tops.”
“Better hit the road.” Dad was never one to put off the inevitable.
“I’ll go tomorrow. I have some things to take care off.”
“Like what?”
“I want to see The Girls for one thing. I still think something’s going on with them.” I looked at Pete. “Walk me out.”
We said our goodbyes and Pete was thanked and thanked again. For some reason, I felt like I was being reprimanded for my unavailability for the IV removal. Probably paranoia on my part, it wouldn’t be the first time. Parents.
“So how about I come over later?” Pete opened the car door for me and leaned against it in his lean, graceful way.
“I’d love it, but I won’t be there.”
“Why not?”
“I’ll be in Lincoln,” I said.
“You just said you’re leaving tomorrow.”
“Yeah, well, let’s just keep this between us.”
“Your parents should know,” he said.
“I don’t want them hassling me with advice and instructions.”
“Can’t somebody else do this?”
“Yeah, but I’m going to. Gavin was family. It’s our job. Since Dad’s not available, it falls to me.” I saw that he didn’t get it, but he bowed to my position anyway. Then he kissed me and opened the car door. I watched him in the rearview as he watched me drive away.