Page 23 of Perfect Mess

I was still holding onto him as the last remnants of plaster dust drifted down from the ceiling. The room looked like a blizzard had blown through.

“You okay?” Gary’s face was caked with white powder.

I could feel his heart beating in his chest as I laid on top of him. Mine was beating just as hard. “Physically, I think so. Mentally, I’m not so sure.” For a few moments, I didn’t move. I wasn’t injured. I just didn’t want to get off of him. “You?”

Gently, Gary rolled me onto the bed. He winced as he sat upright. “My spine is broken in at least six places.”

I propped myself up on my elbows. “I think I saw an old bandaid in the bathroom.”

Gary plucked a piece of insulation from my hair.

“Is that asbestos?”

“I think so.”

Meow

ChapterSix

While I scoured my contact list to find someone available for emergency ceiling repairs, Gary resumed the search for the felonious feline. He found it outside on the roof, near one of the open air vents leading into the attic. We watched from the backyard as the cat licked itself for a good ten minutes. At one point, it lifted a paw and seemed to give us the finger.

After pleasuring itself, the cat sauntered over to a nearby oak tree and effortlessly leaped onto one of the outstretched branches. It climbed down to the ground, then strut across the yard toward the neighbor’s house. It turned back to look at us one final time, a smirk on its whiskered face.

“That cat is an asshole,” I said.

Gary shrugged. But he didn’t disagree with me.

In the neighbor’s yard, the cat went to the back door where there was a bowl of food and water waiting. It nibbled and sipped a bit, then flipped its tail our way. After that, it resumed pleasuring itself out in the open, where everyone could see. ASS-HOLE.

That’s when the back door opened, and a woman stepped out on the porch to refill the cat’s food and water. I decided I was going to put an end to the cat trespassing once and for all. I marched over, Gary at my heels. “Is that your cat?” I called, ready to give this woman a piece of my mind.

“No, it’s not,” the woman said. It wasn’t the answer I was expecting.

“Then whose is it?” I countered.

“You the new owner?” The woman jabbed a finger at Aunt Catherine’s place.

“Technically.”

“Then, technically, it’s yours.” The woman scooped the cat up, noogied its head, then stuffed it into my arms. The cat didn’t look any happier with the situation than I did.

“I’ve just been feedin’ it time to time,” said the woman. “Ever since Cathy passed. She’s a real bitch, that one.”

Gary and I exchanged a look. I can’t say I knew my great aunt well, but it seemed harsh to call her a bitch, considering she was dead.

“Not Cathy,” said the woman. “I mean the cat.” The neighbor woman thought about it for another minute. “Well, actually, Cathy too.”

The cat started squirming to wiggle out of my arms. So I squeezed it tighter. Which only pissed it off more.

“Its name is Purrfect, ‘cept with a PU instead of a PE. Purrrrr-fect.” The neighbor woman purred the name as she said it, then pointed at the collar. “See?”

I pushed aside a clump of fur so I could read the tag. Purrfect must have thought I was going to strangle her, because she sank her claws and teeth into my flesh. The tag on the collar did indeed read Purrfect, and listed the address of Aunt Catherine’s house, which, technically, was now mine.

“Cathy loved that flea bag more than anything.”

Gary looked at me like my doctor had just given me a cancer diagnosis, and was trying to assess which of the five stages I was in.

For the record, it was denial. “It’s fine,” I said. “I’ll just drop it off at the shelter on my way home.”

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