Page 22 of Gravity

But as my body comes down from its high, the doubt and uncertainty takes over, and that voice from my childhood that’s always in the back of my head—the one I’ve fought so hard to forget—comes back thick and fast, telling me I’ll never be good enough for her.

She deserves better.

Someone her own age.

She certainly deserves more than me.

* * *

After I’ve showered and pulled myself together, I make my way downstairs where I’m greeted by my two cats crying at me as though I’ve abandoned them for days.

“Hey, ladies,” I murmur, picking them both up to cuddle them. “You hungry?”

When Mom came home from work one day not long after Dad had left, she was holding a box in both hands with a grin on her face. She had the most beautiful smile and the little chuckle that caught her at the back of her throat had told me she’d been up to something. When she’d told me that she’d bought a cat, I hadn’t been overly pleased. I’m a grown man, and the last thing I’d wanted was a little cat around my feet—although a dog would have been a different matter. What had been worse was that what she removed from the box was not one but two sphynx cats: two little hairless looking rats, padding around our dining room with big eyes and pointy ears. Mom’s face had been so excitable while mine was wondering what had fucking possessed her. They were ugly and… bald. Weird looking things that belonged on planet Mars. However, over the years, these two creepy things have become so loyal and loving that I don’t think I could live without them now. Spyro and Soda are the only family I have left. They, too, have felt the void in their lives. They were once my mother’s best friends and she’d treated them more like children than animals. They’d get presents on their birthdays, tacky cat jumpers to wear in the winter, and if she could have got away with painting their claws, she would have. Only as time moved on, alcohol had become her love, and everyone around her had soon become second best.

I can’t remember when her addiction started. For a large part of it, I was the one feeding her habits. She’d come down to the bar and stay a while. I’d been unaware then that she was an addict as she’d hidden it well, but as time went on, I started to see the deterioration in her personality and behaviors, and before long, she was hiding bottles of Vodka behind the couch or under the kitchen sink in the hope I wouldn’t find them.

Heading into the kitchen, I place the cats down and prepare their food, talking to them and asking how their night has been as if I’m some cat whisperer and we are all going to have a conversation. Anyone looking in would think I am crazy.

“There you go, girls. You enjoy your breakfast. Don’t eat it fast now, it’s not a pretty look.”

I make myself a strong coffee and grab some fruit to eat before heading outside to my back yard. I’m proud of my little seating and patio area that I’ve been working on in my spare time. Over on the right side is a large tree that is too tall to cut down and takes up a lot of space, so my creative mind got to work, and I’ve built a decking area around the tree and have the trunk as a feature piece in the middle. The seating area is finished with dark gray cushions, and I’ve added extra lighting around to make it cozy.

I don’t know where I get my creativity from. It certainly isn’t from my mom, and the only creative thing Dad liked to do was draw blood. I guess it all started when Pete asked me to help build Nora’s tree house. That thing had taken us weeks. It’s built with such strength that it still remains in place to this very day.

My usual hobby is welding. Give me a scrap of metal and I’ll transform it into something else. The things I’ve made over the years range from tables, wall shelves and old metal gates. I sell them on to make a bit of cash during the summer.

When Nora had been in middle school, I’d sit in the garage making keyrings or fancy chains for her while she sat watching me. Each summer, she’d sit on the edge of an old storage crate bouncing her little legs up and down while she’d sucked on a popsicle, talking to me about her day.

The first time I gave her a key ring in the form of a turtle, her eyes had lit up as an excitable grin had grown across her face, her arms flying around my neck. Now, that idea seems strange. Time has moved on so quickly, and the once little girl with pigtails and denim overalls has grown into a woman with determination, class, and slogan tank tops.

Just as I’m about to head inside, I hear voices from the other side of the fence, and my attention drifts to the one that makes my heart rate increase.

“Okay you ready? It’ll be huge,” Nora shouts.

I can hear her dad laugh but I’ve no idea at what as I can’t see. For a moment, I consider heading up the steps to get a better look, but I take the opportunity to just listen to her.

Her giggle is fresh as fuck and has me smiling. She’s always had such an infectious laugh.

“Oh my, God. Look at that,” she squeals. “You like that one, Pop?”

With that, a massive bubble calmly passes over the fence as it glides in the air, and I know now what has Nora so excited.

Bubbles.

One of her favorite things to do when she used to have her Daddy/daughter time. Another passes over, and this time, it’s almost like it’s somersaulting through the air, twisting turning, creating a rainbow in the light of the sun.

“Ahh, the simplest of things in life make the most fun,” she says, and I find myself smiling again at her words. But that quickly changes when I hear a male voice.

“Do you always get this excited over stuff like this?”

“Hell yes. It’s bubbles. Are you not excited about them?”

“Erm, no,” he says.

“Well then there is something wrong with you.”

“Or you just lead a very sheltered life.”