Page 38 of The Purrfect Handyman

“You had to tell a secret in order to enter,” her mom said. “I miss doing that with you two.” She leaned against Alanna, shoulder to shoulder, and took another careful sip of tea. Her mother’s weight felt good against her shoulder but also strange. How long had it been since they’d spent any real time together like this?

It couldn’t have been since she’d left for college… could it?

Alanna swallowed. “The Cave of Secrets,” she said, pushing her mind back in time. “We’d bring in sleeping bags and spend the night under the blankets.”

Their mom would read books to them by flashlight or make up whimsical stories—always about two princesses. Layla had insisted. In those days, Alanna’s little sister had been all about handsome princes on horseback, magic spells, and true love. Honestly, she hadn’t really changed much.

“We didn’t have much, but we always had each other,” her mom said. “I tried to make it fun.”

Alanna bit her lip.

Fun.

Maybe for Layla, but Alanna had been old enough to know the truth. The Cave of Secrets wasn’t just a cute family ritual. It only “magically” appeared when the power company turned off the heat or the electricity. Once, it was both.

Other “fun” memories included “searching for treasures” at the Goodwill or “going on an adventure” when the car broke down.

What her mother never knew about—what Alanna had never told her—was the mockery she’d received for wearing old, outdated clothes to school. How everyone knew she got free lunches. All those days in the library by herself while her class was out on a school trip because she didn’t even bother asking her mom for the required money.

Kids were cruel—little sociopaths, really. But those experiences weren’t in vain. The cruelty made Alanna resilient. It made her hungry to prove everyone wrong. And she had, through hard work, grit, and a metric fuck ton of perseverance.

“It was fun,” Alanna forced herself to say.

“I just wish…” her mother sighed. “I wish I could have given you the life you deserved.” Her hand spasmed, and the teacup tumbled from her grip, splashing hot liquid on her blue cotton pants.

“Oh!” Dede cried.

“Mom. Shit! Did you burn yourself?”

“No. No. I don’t think so. No.” Her mom gave her a thin smile. “I just lost my grip.”

Alanna pegged her mother with a hard stare. “Are you doing the exercises Dr. Deshpande gave you?”

“Yes, it’s okay.”

“Twice a day?” Alanna prodded.

“I’m fine.” Her mother’s voice gained an edge, though she never lost her strained smile. “Look at this mess I’ve made. And we probably scared the poor cat half to death.”

Yeah right. Alanna wouldn’t be surprised if Petunia gained strength from other people’s pain.

“I’ll clean this up.” Her mother leaned over to grab the cup.

“No. I’ll do it. You change,” Alanna told her. Mother and daughter stared at each other, but the outcome was a foregone conclusion. The only argument her mother had ever won was insisting on buying this deathtrap of a house.

“Fine. I’ll change, but then I’ll come back and help clean up,” her mom said at last.

“Put some aloe on your legs, just in case you got a burn,” Alanna ordered her mother. She watched as her mother slowly stood and made her way out of the room. One more week until the appointment with the rheumatologist.

Alanna gnawed on the inside of her cheek as a familiar dread crept up her vertebra. What if the doctor couldn’t do anything for her mom? What if Dede was destined to live with crippling pain in her hands for the rest of her life?

Alanna felt so helpless in the face of her mother’s condition and that infuriated her. Alanna Sandoval didn’t do helpless. Not now, not ever. A flicker of movement caught her eye. In the shadows under the bed, a pair of curious blue eyes moved closer. Petunia wriggled her way just beneath the edge of the bed. She was close enough to touch.

Without thought, Alanna reached out. “Come on, kitty,” she murmured. Her soul longed for some form of solace. She suddenly, desperately wanted to pet the cat. She had to pet the cat. Her hand inched under the bed, her fingers dipping into the shadows.

“Nice kitty, friendly kitty,” she murmured.

Petunia released a spitting hiss, then rushed from beneath the bed. In a moment, she was nothing but a blur of orange and white streaking out the bedroom door and down the stairs.

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