Page 13 of Obsessed

The fourth weekend had started much like the second and as Wednesday night fell he was taking his second lap through town, thinking about getting some ice cream when he stilled, his brain going into full alert.

Gage was coming up the street, deep in a phone conversation; thankfully, he hadn’t noticed Rain yet.

Heart pounding, Rain backpedaled at the speed of light, darting into an alley and hiding behind a dumpster. Seconds later Gage passed by, still talking, and Rain shook for several minutes, not standing up until he was sure that Gage was out of range.

Leaning against the dirty brick wall, he wiped a hand down his face. Looking the way he did and having his appetites meant that he’d dealt with tons of creepy, awful men, but something about Gage made Rain feel particularly slimy; he’d rather be celibate than deal with his mother’s gross boyfriend again.

A pathetic squeak pulled him from his thoughts. His eyes flicked to the dumpster. What was in there? A rat?

Another plaintive cry reached his ears, this one mournful. It sounded like it came from a mouse rather than a rat but that meant it was a very loud mouse. Stepping closer, he peered inside, stilling as golden eyes met his.

“Hi there,” he said to the fluffy kitten who stared back at him; its black fur was filthy, sticking up in places, but that only made it cuter. “Aren’t you a dirty diva?”

Why was there a kitten in the dumpster? His eyes scanned the garbage inside, making sure there weren’t any others, but it seemed like the cutie pie was all by itself. Since the dumpster stood alone with nothing next to it, there was no way the kitten could’ve climbed in. Did someone put this poor thing in there?

Ignoring the grime, Rain leaned over the thick metal edge, stretching out his hand, but he came up a few inches short. The kitten tried to paw at him but kept tripping on itself, continuously mewing, and the sad tone touched a familiar feeling inside of Rain. The kitty was scared. It only wanted to be safe and Rain could more than relate.

Holding his breath to ward off the smell, Rain climbed in and the minute his leg touched the garbage at the bottom, the kitten sank its claws into his pants, its cries getting sharper and more insistent.

“It’s okay, I got you, little mouse.” Carefully pulling the fluffball free he sloppily hauled himself out with one hand, landing hard on the pavement, and turned the kitten around, checking. The squeaks continued butsheseemed happier, wriggling until Rain held her against his chest, where she calmed, sinking her claws into his shirt and holding on. “You need a home too, huh?”

Leaning back against the brick, Rain sighed. He couldn’t leave her behind, she was too tiny. In seven hours, The Pointe would reopen for early deliveries, beginning another work week, and he might be able to hide her in the storage room for a few days, get her clean, and find a family to adopt her. She deserved a good life with someone who wouldn’t bring home perverted boyfriends and who would love her the way she was meant to be loved.

Resuming his walk through town, he carried the kitten to the only open grocery store, sneaking her in and buying cat food, flea treatment, and other essentials. The clerk definitely saw her squirming in his hoodie pocket and grinned at Rain while he paid. Turning on the charm, he winked at her.

Hours later, he crept back into The Pointe, grabbing a disposable aluminum pan and filling it with warm water.

Strangely, once she’d been rescued from the dumpster, the kitten stayed reasonably quiet as if she trusted Rain, and his heart grew full as she bravely endured the flea dip and subsequent cleaning, shivering and letting out small squeaks when he dried her with The Pointe’s cloth napkins. He wished his living situation was different because he wanted to keep her.

He’d even named her Mouse.

4

MASON

Masonglaredatthescreen.

Please consider settling on the house, son. Let’s keep the peace.

Keep the peace? That was his mother’s code for “your father and brother run this house and I’m too much of a doormat to do anything about it, so please be compliant.” While she’d never bullied him, she’d allowed it to happen and continued to push for a resolution that victimized him, so he wanted nothing to do with her either.

Parents were supposed to love and cherish their children but Mason’s had missed the memo. Thankfully, Gran had been there to provide him with the kindness he’d needed, balancing the harshness of his home life. She’d been widowed for years by the time Mason was born, living alone and painting in this house, and growing up he’d spent all the time he could with her, trying to escape, taking every scrap of love she’d given him, feeling understood and seen in a way that he never would again. While he hadn’t inherited her sunny disposition, he’d gotten some of her talent, and she’d always encouraged him, buying him his first camera and eventually having the apartment built for him during the last years of her life.

And at the end, when his parents ignored her, he was the one who fed her, carried her from the bedroom to the bathroom, and held her trembling hand as she took her last breath.

Gritting his teeth, Mason grabbed his cell phone. Like hell he’d settle. They deserved nothing.

Using his anger as fuel, he dialed his lawyer before he could chicken out. Of course, Stanley didn’t pick up, and the call went straight to voicemail, making Mason even angrier.

“It’s Mason Hart calling again. I’m forwarding you another email. Call me back.”

Hanging up, he turned his glare on the phone, hoping that Stanley could feel it. Once again, he considered another lawyer, not wanting to be a victim of sunk cost fallacy, but the effort seemed overwhelming.

Rubbing his chin, he sat back in his chair, staring up at the ceiling. All he wanted in life was to live off his photos and only deal with people through the camera lens. There wasn’t anything wrong with that dream but he’d had it for a long time, and as he neared his mid-thirties it had begun to feel slightly out of reach. Sure, he’d sold some of his work and a few blogs had featured him, but he hadn’t done a show yet that wasn’t part of a college project, not even a group exhibition, and he wanted that so badly.

Unfortunately, his brain hadn’t been programmed for networking, it had been programmed for repression, for hiding vulnerability, for not letting the people around him know anything because it would be used against him. He knew he was hurting his career but he couldn’t figure out how to fix it.

Sighing, he stood, cracking his neck and trying to relax his jaw. Strolling into the darkroom, he turned on the yellow light and stared at his Rain Wall. It had gotten larger over the last month and he’d learned so much because of it. At one point, he thought he knew everything he needed to know but that stormy gaze had brought out his experimental side, causing him to mix ideas, chemicals, and exposures in masterful ways as he tried to print Rain’s soul.

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