Page 25 of Perfect Mess

“Bad kitty! Bad!” Purrfect looked up at me with her big blue eyes, batting her eyelashes.

Meow

Which in cat language, roughly translates to “fuck you”.

* * *

Inside my apartment,I gave Purrfect the grand tour. “There’s the kitchen. That room back there is the bedroom. This is the couch.” It was a small apartment.

Despite being a real estate agent, I didn’t own a house of my own. You see, home ownership is a lot like having a relationship. There’s a lot of upkeep involved. A lot of maintenance. Things break. It’s better to keep it temporary. That way, when things inevitably go sideways, you simply move on to the next project.

Once Purrfect made herself at home, curling up on my bed and getting cat hair everywhere, I opened up my laptop and ordered a cat carrier from Amazon. One with a lock. My plan was to put a “Free Cat” post out on social media, and if there weren’t any takers, I would drive her down to the shelter. Somehow, Purrfect must have known what I was up to because she hissed at me from under the kitchen table.

I was about to close my laptop when Amazon generously suggested that I should also buy a scratching post. I didn’t want scratch marks all over my furniture, so I clicked “yes”. Then Amazon suggested a litter box. Absolutely. Cat food. I suppose. Cat treats. Just this once. While we’re at it, how about a catnip stuffed, mouse shaped chew toy? You only live once. Unless you’re a cat. Then you live nine times. After spending three hundred and seventy-two dollars, I had officially spoiled Purrfect. Rags to riches in a day.

“Happy?” I called into the bedroom

Meow

“Right back at you.”

That night, I woke up sometime after midnight with the weird feeling that I was being watched. Because I was. Purrfect sat on the nightstand, staring at me in the dark. Probably trying to figure out how to smother me in my sleep.

I pulled the pillow over my head, but I could still feel her eyes on me. “What do you want?”

Meow

I threw the pillow, but she ducked, and I knocked over a lamp instead.

Meow

“Are you hungry?” She just sat there. “Thirsty?” Still, she sat.

I held up my hands, palms open, so she could see that I was unarmed. Slowly, gently, I extended an open hand. Purrfect braced herself, but held her ground.

I brushed her cheek with my fingertips. Miraculously, she didn’t flinch. I placed my hand on her head. Not only did she not recoil, she seemed to lean into it.

Emboldened, I went all-in. My fingers caressed her ears. They were as soft as velvet. No, softer than velvet. Napa leather soft.

I let my hand sink into the fur behind her neck. She arched her back as I stroked her from head to tail. She didn’t groan. Didn’t hiss. I tried another long stroke, then another again.

As soon as I removed my hand, she stepped toward me. Her head nudged under my chin. She cuddled up against me. And then fell asleep. I don’t know how long I just laid there, listening to her purr. How nice it must be, I thought. One moment you’re holed up in some dark attic, all alone, just fighting to survive. The next moment, someone swoops in to take care of you. Spoil you. Give you their love. Even if maybe you didn’t exactly deserve it.

Like me.

ChapterSeven

The next morning, when the alarm went off, I was already up scouring the Internet for clues. The plan had come to me in the middle of the night, in between the tossing and the turning, a vision forming as I stared at the ceiling above.

Ever since the reunion, memories and thoughts about Jack Thompson had wormed their way into my brain. I had spent the past twenty years trying to forget him and what he had done to me, but one chance encounter now had me spinning, his words bouncing around in my head.

I was hoping we could talk.

So I could apologize.

Make it up to you somehow.

If you’d let me.

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