We have another one of our staring contests as I deliberate what to do. Nothing about this is my responsibility. I should just let it fend for itself, it’s a feral cat for god’s sake. I wouldn’t feel so guilty if it were nice out, but it’s wet and cold, and its fur is soaked.
I sigh and pick it up.
“Just for the night,” I tell it.
I endup running a bath to clean its fur. From what I can see, it doesn’t have any fleas, but the water turns brown instantly.
“Gross,” I say out loud. “You’re filthy, little guy.”
The kitten lets out a little squeak, clinging to my hand and forearm, looking like a wet rat.
After the bath, I swaddle it in a towel and carry it with me into the kitchen while I riffle through the cupboards for something to feed it.
I find a lonely can of tuna behind a stale box of cereal.
I’m leaning on the kitchen counter, watching it devour the fishy pile of mush, when Sophia shows up from her shift. The front door is right next to the small kitchen, and I look up as she enters.
“Hey,” she says absentmindedly when she sees me standing there.
Stopping in her tracks, bag and keys still in hand, her head snaps to my feet.
“Oh my god, is that a cat?!” Her voice is nearly a shriek, her eyes widening with glee.
“We’re not keeping it,” I answer flatly.
Sophia throws her shit on the floor, quickly pulling off her boots.
“The hell we aren’t,” she says as she drops to her knees next to the kitten, who’s now pushing the plate across the floor with the force of its tongue against the porcelain.
“It’s a stray, it belongs outside.”
She lifts her gaze, eyebrows creased in suspicion.
“Okay, so why is itinsidethen?”
“It followed me home after I pulled it out of the dumpster.” I scratch my head and shrug. “Figured I’d feed it.”
Sophia laughs, her attention now back on the kitten. “You’re a goner, dude.”
I scrunch up my face. “No, I’m not. It’s just a cat, it’ll be out by morning.”
She pets its little head, not even bothering to look up at me when she replies, “Sure it will.”
13
CONNIE
“Charlie, you’re keeping Alec hostage with your shit, leave him alone,” Ozzy says as he passes through the living room into the kitchen.
It’s Christmas Eve at the McKennas, and the festivities have started to wind down. The few friends left are either in the living room or drinking coffee and playing cards around the dining room table.
I’m settled on the couch with Sophia and Jamie, while Charlie has Alec, Ozzy’s best friend, cornered near the Christmas tree. He’s telling him all about the Chernobyl disaster, his new hyperfixation.
Upon hearing his brother calling him out, Charlie whips his head around and looks at Ozzy disappearing around the corner, then back to Alec, his mouth open in outrage.
“I am not! Alec, tell him.”
Alec barks a laugh, smoothing a palm over his mustache, and winks at Charlie. “All good, bud, finish your story.”
