Page 15 of Stryker
She sniffed delicately like she was holding back tears. “How old were you?”
“I think five or six? Anyway, I came home one day to find out that Misty–”
“Misty?”
I fixed a playfully annoyed look on her even though she didn’t quite look at me. “I was a little kid.”
“Okay.” She nodded and rested her chin back on her knees. But she was listening to me. I’d pulled her out of her head and into my story. Maybe I wasn’t so bad at this after all.
“So I came home to find out that Misty had run away while I was at school.”
“Hold on, you went to school?” This time she peeked over her shoulder at me and I saw her red-rimmed, watery eyes. “Like dragon school?”
I shook my head. “Nope, regular school. We blend in, I told you this.”
She still seemed mystified, but we were derailing my story and message.
“I asked my mom if she’d seen Misty. She hadn’t. I asked my dad. He hadn’t.” The bittersweet memories poured in and I cleared my throat. I missed them. I missed them more than anything. I missed all of that, how easy everything had been, how simple and happy my life had been back then. “I asked my brother. He was just three, so he didn’t know either.”
She studied me openly now, her eyes wide as if she was worried for this cat that had been gone for so many years now.
“And did you find her?” her lip trembled a little bit and I wondered if I was making a huge mistake. I’d found her all right, the next day as I left for school. She’d been beside the curb, her ribs all smashed in. She’d clearly been hit by a car. But I had a feeling that right now, Kat didn’t need the real story, she needed the message and that didn’t change even if little details of the story did.
“We did. We found her the next day at the front door, mewing to be let in,” I lied. I hadn’t thought of Misty in so many years that guilt began to chew at me. I’d loved that little ball of claws and teeth and purring love.
Kat sighed in relief.
“But I didn’t give up looking. I didn’t stop trying. I begged my mom to make missing posters. We didn’t wind up needing to, but I wasn’t’ going to quit until I found her. No matter what that meant.”
“I’m glad the story had a happy ending.” She breathed a sigh of relief. “I’m not sure I could have taken it if you never found her or something bad happened.”
Gulp. Well, I made the right call, I guess. I didn’t like lying to her, but I thought I could forgive myself for this one. “But the point is that you can’t give up. It’s not over until it’s over. It was over when we found her but not until then.” I needed to slip something else in there too, though. “But even if we’d found the worst thing imaginable, I’d have found a way to soldier on. Even as a child. Because that’s what you do. When things get tough, you get tougher.”
“But you can’t fix everything. It’s not always a lost cat. Sometimes its things you can’t take back.” She bit her lip as if she’d said too much and stared at a knot in the pine wood floor.
“What’s so bad it can’t be fixed?” I asked.
She didn’t say anything, but she leaned into me and I slipped an arm behind her on the couch. Her head rested on my shoulder and her back pressed firmly to my side.
She let out a huge breath and pulled in another one.
“You don’t have to tell me.”
She shook her head. “It’s not that.” Her voice wobbled dangerously. “I just… I’m having a hard time speaking.” Her throat made an odd noise like it was closing up.
“Take your time.” Time was a luxury we had out here in the middle of nowhere.
“I… said some awful things to my father.” She took another deep breath as if to calm herself. “What if they’re the last thing I ever say to him?” She covered her face with her hands, her slim shoulders shaking. “I just feel so guilty.”
A flash of my parents, of my brother crossed my mind. My final words to them popped into my mind. I’d been upset at my parents that day when they’d left. In typical teenage outrage, I’d told them I didn’t care what time they came home. I was pissed they were leaving without me and that I had to look after my little brother.
They were hit by a drunk driver later that same night. The thing I was mad about—not going—had saved my damn life. And my brother… I’d been luckier with him. The last thing I told him was that I loved him and I’d see him on Sunday. But he had taken his own life before then.
I pressed my lips to her head. “It won’t be the last thing you ever say to him. I promise.”
9
Kat
