Missing Cat

MISSING CAT (Censored)

By derrick Stahl

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     She picked up her bag and left. Just ******* walked out. She didn’t say anything, didn’t look at me … it was as if I wasn’t there. But I was used to that feeling. Invisible. Useless.

     I listened as the door softly clicked shut behind her. She didn’t slam it. There was no need. I glanced at the door, but didn’t stare at it like I thought I should. I knew it wouldn’t open again. ****, I knew this moment had been on its way for longer than I cared to think about. It didn’t feel right, but it was expected.

     I picked up the remote, turned on the TV. This didn’t feel right either; I turned it back off. Tried a magazine but couldn’t concentrate. I paced around, feeling the soft carpet massage the bottom of my feet through my socks. I refused to cry. **** her; she didn’t cry, so I wouldn’t either.

     The phone rang. I stared at it longer than I had stared at the door. Voicemail picked up. A girl’s voice told the caller to leave a message after the tone. There was a short pause before an answering voice responded. It was my sister. She started to ramble on and on about her day as if the voicemail would respond. There seemed to be something wrong, hidden beneath her cheerful mask. I picked up the receiver.

     “Hello.”

     “Oh, hi! You’re home. I was just leaving you a message.”

     I grunted.

     “Did you want to go get some ice cream?”

     “Sure.” I tried to keep my tone level. Simple. “You’ll have to pick me up, though. I don’t have the car right now.”

     She breathed out as she smiled, and I pictured her face. She was faking her smile. Facial expressions didn’t transfer through the phone, but I knew my sister well enough. “Give me a few mins,” she said, “and I’ll be right over.”

     I was waiting at the door, stepping outside to meet her even before she pulled into the driveway. I got into her blue Honda. She looked at me and flashed another fake smile. I could tell she had been crying.

     “Dairy Queen or Friendly’s?” she asked.

     I shrugged, pursing my lips in a way to say, It doesn’t matter to me.

     She drove. We sat in silence.

     The woman at Dairy Queen must have been too busy to notice the fact two of the world’s saddest people just ordered the world’s happiest food. My sister held her strawberry sundae in one hand, and grabbed a few of my fingers with the other. She led me outside, plopping down on the round picnic table. I sat, placing my Oreo Blizzard on the table before me. I stuck the spoon in the top so I wouldn’t have to set it on the dirty table.

     She looked at me, her eyes squinting some. She scooted closer, under the shade of the umbrella protruding from the table’s middle. Our hips were touching.

     “Have you talked to mom?” she asked.

     I shook my head. “Not for a week or so. Why?”

     “So you haven’t heard about Jason?”

     I shook my head.

     She took a deep breath. “He left me,” she finally said.

     My eyes flashed wide, but I didn’t know what to say. I tried to stammer something. “… I’m sorry.”

     She sniffled. “It was kind of my fault anyway,” she said. “I knew that neighbor down the street had been leaving food out for him at night. And … and I still left the gate open. I knew better!” This last part was said much louder than the rest.

     “Fickle,” I said, as if that should sum up the whole situation. “Why didn’t you just go get him back?”

     She started to cry. I sat there, looking over at her.

     “I tried,” she said, her words barely understandable. “But as I was walking over there … I saw … I saw--” She buried her face into my shoulder. The only thing I could think of was that I hoped she hadn’t gotten any strawberry on my shirt. Am I that much of an *******?

     I kissed the top of her head. “What’d you see?” I croaked.

     After a few minutes and a few tears she finally answered. “He’s dead. Some jerk hit him and then just drove off!”

     Now I was genuinely remorseful … now that I knew the whole story, anyway. “I’m so sorry,” I said as if that would somehow magically help things get better. I hadn’t touched my Blizzard and it was starting to melt, the vanilla ice cream spreading across the table in a milky pool. “Was this today?”

     She sniffled once more, lifting her head from me. “This morning, yeah.”

     “I’m so sorry,” I said again.

     We talked for almost an hour. I was able to eat some of my ice cream, but it was more drink than food by that time. It felt like the conversation was starting to get to the end, so I began to stand.

     “Wait,” she said. I looked over at her, half hunched over. “Can we pray?” she asked. I slumped back down. ****. She could pray if she wanted to! My prayers don’t get answered. In fact, to help people out, I don’t pray … that way they at least have a chance of getting what they wanted.

     “Sure,” I said, once again level and simple.

     She smiled. It was a weak one, but real. She got a sheepish look. I knew what was coming. ******. “Would you pray?” she asked in a girlish innocence.

     “Pray for what specifically?”

     She thought for a second. “For whoever hit Jason. If it was an accident, then I don’t want to be mad at them … and who knows if they feel bad about it or not. If it wasn’t an accident … then … I don’t know. God will know, though.”

     “Okay …” I glanced away quickly, collecting words in my head. “Close your eyes,” I told her. She promptly obeyed. “Uhm … dear God. Please be with whoever hit Jason this morning. Help them not feel bad if it was an accident … and help my sister forgive them. Help her with the sadness she’s going through, too.” This was so awkward! Why was I stammering like a grade-schooler? “And be with me too as I’m dealing with some things. In Jesus’ name.”

     My sister whispered “Amen.” She squeezed my arm in a hug. “I should probably get you back home,” she said. I grunted and tried out a fake smile of my own. It must have been convincing enough.

     I was soon back at the infamous door. I listened as my sister pulled out of the drive and drifted away. She needed a new muffler. Badly. I touched the door handle but didn’t turn it. What was in that house that I wanted? There was nothing left for me. I turned and stared out at the street. A car sped past. What a lucky cat, I thought sadistically. I walked toward the street, stopping when I reached the sidewalk. It was a beautifully warm day. The gentle wind played with the branches of a nearby tree just enough to bathe me in shade … steal it away again … give it back. Rinse. Repeat. I looked up at the sky. “So Lord, You made all of this, huh?” There was no answer other than the standing testament of creation. “Then why don’t You give a ****?” I tear stung my eye. That wasn’t right of me to say. I apologized in my head, but not mouthing the words. My sister hadn’t even asked me what my problem was. Did she even notice? Or was that selfish of me to even think? Her cat just died … she had enough on her mind already. But there I was again. Invisible. Useless.

     But she did use me. So what if my prayer didn’t work? It made her feel better just by me praying it, didn’t it? Or was that in itself the answer to the prayer? I was confused. Who am I to even have the right to think about this kind of stuff?

     A child of God, that’s who! Because I believed in something that’s been taught for thousands of years? That doesn’t make me any better than anyone else. So why would God love me just for that?

     My mind told me, Because He can and because He chose to. And that’s reason enough.

     I looked back up at the sky as if I would see God there. “This doesn’t make any sense,” I told Him. “How the **** am I supped to keep going when I … I don’t know. I don’t know anything! I can’t see. How am I supposed to do this?”

     Again. No answer.

     I sighed, glanced back toward the house. My chest burned, my heart leaving behind nothing but an empty cavern. I wish my sister would come back. I glanced down the road in a feeble attempt to trick fate into having her blue Honda round the corner. It didn’t work. I was alone.

     You’re not alone. I shook my head, once again lifting my gaze toward the cloud-spotted sky. It was the perfect shade of blue. “God …” But I didn’t have anything left to say. The wind stopped, and I stood there in the sunshine until I felt my skin start to warm. I turned toward the house and trudged inside.

     Up to the bedroom. My bedroom now. The air held a familiar scent. It smelled like “home” in a weird kind of way. Every home has it, but only one smells right to each person. I was depressed. I dropped chest-down on the bed, cross-ways so my feet hung over the side. My head was turned toward the wall, eyes still open.

     I kicked off my shoes, but kept my jeans and shirt on. “Well God,” I sighed. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.” There was a pause. “Thanks.”