I wanted to reach out to him but kept my hands on the wheel.
He shifted the carrier on his knees and pulled out his phone. “Okay, shopping list. With a litterbox and litter at the top. Then what?”
“Dishes, food. Check the envelope and see what she was eating.” Practicalities were good. A distraction from worrying about Griffin. He was a grown man and could look after himself.
When we got home, I took the carrier from Griffin and led the way into the house. “Hey, Mom?” I called as we headed down the hallway from the garage. “I brought guests.”
“Lee! You should’ve given me time to clean up.” Mom met us in the kitchen, where one plate with a few crumbs was all that marred the clean surfaces. “Oh, Griffin. Nice to see you again.” She glanced at me. “You saidguests? Is someone else here?”
I set the carrier on the floor and opened the top. “Mom, meet Willow.” My cat sat up on her hind legs, peering out of the carrier and twitching her ears, cute as hell.
“Oh.” Mom dropped limply into a chair. “It’s a cat.”
“Yes.” I eyed her, wondering at her reaction. “You like cats.”
“We can’t have a cat.”
“Why not, Mom?”
I saw her lips shape the word“Alice”but she said nothing, just stared blankly into space.
Griffin murmured, “Shall I head out and get some litter and food and things? While you talk to your mom?”
“Sure. Thank you.” I dug in my pocket. “Here, take my car— Crap, you can’t.”
“Right. But I have three rideshare apps on my phone and two taxi companies. I’m good.” He squatted beside the carrier and rubbed Willow’s cheeks, his gaze averted from Mom. “You be a good girl, Willow. It’ll be okay.”
When he’d gone, Willow hopped out of the box and began exploring.
Mom stared down at her hands, clasped together in her lap.
I scooped up the cat and sat cross-legged in front of Mom. Willow seemed quite willing to have her rambles exchanged for a lap and some petting. “Alice would want you to have a cat now you can,” I said, which was perhaps unfair but also the total truth. “I want a cat. Willow needs a home and family, and there’s something about stroking a purring feline that pulls stress out of the human body.” As Willow purred louder, I looked up at Mom. “Want to hold her?”
For several moments, I thought Mom might say no. Then she unknotted her hands and nodded. I set Willow on Mom’s knees, where she purred happily, her eyes half closed under my stroking hands. I eased back. Willow’s eyes popped open. The rumbling motor faded and her small ears twitched back and forth.
“Oh, sweetie.” Mom took over, stroking Willow’s soft cheeks and head. “Pretty girl, you’re safe here.”
Willow purred for her just as happily. Mom petted her for a minute, then met my eyes. “But you have to clean the litterbox.”
I nodded, not sure why those simple words had my eyes brimming over. “Yes, Ma.”
“Don’t youMame.” Looking back down at Willow, Mom added, “And maybe, maybe it’s time for me to try that medication you suggested.”
“The anxiety med?” I held my breath.
“Yes. That one. I want… I want to feel happy about things like a cat, not just this… blank nothing.” She watched her own fingers sliding through long black and orange fur.
“I hope it helps. I’ll call it in right away.” I kept my tone calm and low, although I wanted to jump up and down and shout. Meds weren’t the whole answer at all, but a good first step. Maybe enough to give Mom the calmness to talk to someone. Even just a sign she was ready to let someone help. I cleared my throat. “So we’re keeping Willow?”
“You were like that as a boy.” Mom sat straighter as Willow jumped down to resume her home inspection. “Always bringing home critters in need of help. That baby bird that fell out of itsnest and the rabbit and that classmate of yours with the too-small shoes. The squirrel.”
“That one was dead,” I recalled.
“But you wanted to heal it. And you cried.” She met my gaze. “You’re a good man, Lee. Always have been. I leaned too much weight on you those first years after your father left.”
“No, I was glad I could help. I wanted to.”
“I know. But you didn’t get to be young and carefree.”
