Page 50 of Friend Me

15

When I openedthe front door that night, Dad was watchingNovain his battered old recliner.

“Hi, Dad,” I called over the blare of the television.

“Sunshine! Good day at work?” When he beamed at me, the flickering blue light of the television cast shadows on his face so that it looked like a grinning skull.

“Fine.” I shook off my shivers as I crossed to the kitchen and flipped on the light. I hoped we had some beer. Or wine. That’d be even better. After dinner, I’d sneak upstairs and finally order that new vibrator. Something more…lifelike.

Hiding my burning cheeks from Dad, I set down my bags and toed out of my heels. That’s when Tigger’s uncharacteristically full bowl on the floor caught my eye. He normally scarfed down his meal in seconds. Was he sick? I really wasn’t in the mood to take the cranky kitty to the vet tonight. I would, of course. No way would Alicia’s beloved kitty be in less than perfect condition when I handed him back in a week. I looked under the table, where he loved to hide from me, but only an orange dust bunny sat there.

I padded back into the living room, but Tigger wasn’t snuggled up with Dad, either. I went into his room, lifted the corner of the bedspread, and peered under the bed. More dust bunnies—I added vacuuming to my mental to-do list—but no cat.

Tigger’s hatred for me was so fierce that he refused to set his dainty paws on the second floor, but I ran up the stairs anyway and checked my room. No sign of the ferocious fluffball.

I trotted back down the stairs, my heart racing, and stood between Dad and the television.

“Have you seen Tigger?” I tried to keep the panic out of my voice. No sense in upsetting him.

“Who?”

I snatched the remote and muted the television. “Tigger. The cat.”

He scrunched his forehead. “We don’t have a cat.”

I closed my eyes and inhaled a few yoga breaths to calm myself. “Alicia’s cat. He’s been here for almost two weeks.”

When I opened my eyes, Dad’s face registered no understanding.Shit.After one last glance around the room, I returned to the kitchen. I found my sneakers on top of the washing machine, slid them on, and grabbed a jacket, a flashlight, and my phone. The corpulent kitty couldn’t have gone far, but he’d be hard to find in the dark. And I had to find him. Alicia loved that goddamned cat.

* * *

Two hours later,my hands shook as I poured myself a tumbler of red wine. I flopped into a kitchen chair and looked down at myself. My pale-pink skirt and my T-shirt were smeared with dirt and blanketed in orange and white fur, and my hands and arms were cross-hatched with scratches. Most of them weren’t deep, and I’d washed them out well, but the gouge across the back of my hand had bled a bit and was starting to form a scab. The side of my face felt puffy around the shallow scratch that started on my cheekbone and trailed all the way down my neck. Still, I smirked—ouch. I’d emerged from our battle victorious.

My heart had pounded, my entire body tense and shaking as I’d wandered up and down our neighborhood streets. I wasn’t sure whether I should call him or try to sneak up on him, considering how much Tigger despised me. Eventually, my voice had faded to a croak, making it a moot point. I’d already started to imagine finding his crumpled body in the street and mentally composed what I’d tell Alicia when I’d heard a rustle of dry leaves and lit up a pair of yellow eyes in the beam of my flashlight.

I’d chased him across a couple of yards until I cornered him against someone’s steps and grabbed him around the middle. It wasn’t until the demon scratched my face that I had the idea to take off my jacket and bundle him in it. After that, he was relatively docile, letting out only the occasional yowl as I carried him home like a running back who’d just scored the winning touchdown. I’d suppressed my urge to spike him and dab when we were safely inside the kitchen.

Now the little monster was safely snuggled up against Dad in his bed. Meanwhile, I wished we had something stronger than wine to tame my shakes so I could go to bed myself. And as much as I didn’t want to think about it, my relief at finding Alicia’s cat unharmed wasn’t the only reason my hands trembled. The slack incomprehension on Dad’s face when I’d asked him about Tigger terrified me. I couldn’t deny it anymore: something was wrong with my dad.

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