“I need to do what?”
“I was trying to rescue the cat,” Buzz adds, pointing up at the tree.
My gaze follows his finger, and sure enough, there is a white-and-orange cat in the tree. It meows and tries to jump down to the branch below it but misses and catches itself on the next branch. Nope. I’m not going back up there.
“Listen, it’s not in my job description to save cats. You can call the fire department. They live for this stuff.”
Reid frowns up at me, placing his hands onto his hips, and says, “Your job description is to help everyone. Do your job, and protect the cat.”
I’ve had enough of this kid. I give Buzz a pat on the head, telling him to go back inside where it’s warm and safe, and turn to make my way back to my cruiser. However, Reid’s words have me freezing in my place.
“What are you? Chicken?”
Much like my favorite character from the 80s, Marty McFly, I have this need to prove myself when someone calls me a chicken, and that’s exactly what I did for the two nine-year-olds. I sigh, looking down and shaking my head. By the grace of God, I made it down the tree with only a few scratches from the cat. When I went to hand the cat over to the children, Reid claimed he was allergic, and Buzz said he wasn’t allowed to have pets.
When I went to set the cat down, Buzz had tears in his eyes. He informed me that he didn’t want the cat to be all by itself in the cold, and he made me promise that I would help find the orange-and-white furball a new home, which is why I’m currently walking into the police station with a purring feline in my hands.
“There he is,” my partner, Rick, says before eyeing the cat in my hands. A bright smile takes over his bearded face, revealing his coffee-stained teeth, and something seems to twinkle behind his blue eyes. “Well, you have got to bekittenme.”
“Yeah, yeah, I had to save a cat from a tree today. Big deal. He can be yours now.” I go to hand the cat over to Rick, but the furball hisses in response, and sinks its claws into my arm.
“I don’t think he likes me. Plus, my wife would have a fit if I brought anything with fur into our home.”
“Hey, Rick, Miss Preston called. Her cat got fined forlittering,” Lucy, my co-worker, calls from her desk, chuckling as she snaps a photo of us, and starts typing on her phone.
“Ha-ha, that’s funny,” I say to her before turning to Rick and adding, “I ate your scones, by the way. You shouldn’t feed into Olivia’s crazy ideas. You’re lucky I don’t fire you.”
Rick’s smirk grows. “Good thing you can’t fire your partner.”
“I’m a total catpurr-son,” Elliott claims as he gets up fromhis desk and walks my way. “I could gift him or her to Cindy. She loves cats. Let me see the little feller.”
Elliott reaches out to grab the cat but snatches his hand back when the cat hisses and swats at his hand. Apparently, the cat doesn’t care for anyone else. I can’t have a pet because I don’t have the time to take care of it. My schedule won’t allow it. An idea strikes me, and I know exactly who I’ll give this cat to.
“Allkittenaside, you had a phone call while you were out. I left the message on a sticky note on your desk. Don’t look at me like that. These puns arehiss-terical, and you know it. Quit being so grumpy.”
Everyone in the room joins in the laughter, and I beeline it to my office, making sure to lock the door behind me, and set the cat down on the floor. “Please don’t use my office as a bathroom,” I say, studying him as he sniffs the floor for a few seconds before walking over to my spare chair and hopping onto it. He purrs softly once he’s settled in for a nap.
I take a seat at my desk and pick up the bright-pink sticky note waiting for me. All it says is to call this number, and it’s not one I recognize. I pull out my phone, dial the number, and let it ring for a few moments. My whole body stiffens as a very familiar voice comes over the speaker—a voice that has haunted my dreams since I was a little boy.
“Luke?” my dad says. His usual booming tone sounds weak, strangled almost. “I’m glad you called.”
He’s glad I called? I haven’t spoken to him since the day I graduated from the police academy and became an officer. I was able to run him and his crew out of town when I threatened that if I ever saw them again, I would put every single one of them in jail. Thankfully, I haven’t seen them since, and Covewood has been a much safer place because of it.
“Don’t call this number ever again,” I growl.
“No, wait! Luke, I—” I hear him say before I hit the red button to end the call.
I don’t feel an ounce of guilt for hanging up on him. My father is not a loving man. Actually, I take that back; he did love control, alcohol, and himself. I spent so many years thinking I was worthless. I’d be lying if I said that I still didn’t most days. His poisonous ways of parenting altered my perception.
I knew I'd never be the same after the first time he laid a hand on me. Every time I started to heal, he would weasel his way back in, just long enough to break me all over again, until I was in so many pieces I wasn’t sure I could ever put myself back together.
I don’t think I can forgive him for that. No matter how hard I’ve tried, placing my hands upon an altar at church or having long talks with a therapist, that anger lives inside my heart.
All the old feelings I’ve worked so hard to lock away are banging against my ribcage. I refuse to let them out. I come off like someone who has control over their emotions, but it’s all a lie. Deep down, I’m filled with an anger I wish I never had to deal with, and it’s all because of my dad.
I rip the sticky note, toss it into the garbage can, and block the number on my phone. I grab my coat, deciding that I need to get out of here, and lift the cat into my arms.
I walk over to Rick’s desk, slamming my palm down as I say, “If that number ever calls this station again, you hang up. Do you hear me?”
