“I think that’s the only not-amazing thing I’ve ever heard about your parents.” It’s true. The Mercer family is the gold standard as far as families go. Five kids. Parents who workin the education system as teachers and coaches. Fun. Funny. Laidback.
Being in their home growing up was like catnip to my soul.
The cat prowls along the perimeter of the small, square space under the porch. “He doesn’t look hurt when he’s walking around, so that’s something.” I inspect the porch box. “I can’t figure out how he got in there. There doesn’t seem to be a big enough hole anywhere.”
“I heard once that cats can fit into smaller spaces than you’d imagine,” Charlotte says, the scent of her hair floating to me. It’s like shampoo and lemons and something unique to only her.
It’s like she can hear my thoughts because she grabs her hair and twists it up and stows it behind one shoulder, like she’s trying to get it out of the way.
“Well, let’s set this formula out and see if that coaxes him. Do you have a bowl we can use?”
Charlotte nods and hurries inside. I open the pouch that reads “Kitten Milk Replacer” and when she comes out with a small, pink ceramic bowl, I carefully pour some in and set the bowl down next to the lattice covering, as close to the cat as possible. He gives another pitiful mew but doesn’t move.
“So, now we wait?” she asks, shrugging.
“I guess so. I wonder if it would be better if we weren’t hovering. Maybe he’s shy.”
“Do you…want to come in?”
“I mean, maybe he’ll come out if he doesn’t have an audience.”
“Makes sense,” she hedges. “We can check again in a few minutes.”
We make our way inside, and I’m struck by how much her living room reminds me of the Mercer house. The house they lived in was bigger, and probably about twenty years newer. Like Charlotte’s, it was a craftsman style place, but unlike hers, it had a covered porch across the front of it and was painted red.
“This sofa looks familiar,” I say, patting the arm.
“Have a seat,” she motions to it. “You remember this? It’s a hand-me-down from my parents.”
I sink down into the worn leather. There’s so much I remember about that house. It was chaotic, but warm. The Mercers were everything I’d wanted in a family. Everything I tried to make my family become.
I rub my hand across the leather. “I spent a lot of hours gaming with Kyle on this sofa, so of course I remember it.”
On her fireplace mantle, there are family photos. “So, Maddy got married a while back, right?”
“Yes. She’s so in love it’s disgusting. We don’t see her as much as we used to, but it’s fine. She’s in Houston working as a CPA and loving it.”
“Kyle made sure I got an invitation to the wedding, but I had a game that weekend.”
“I remember something about a wedding gift of a bunch of card games and board games?”
I laugh. “Yeah, I made Kyle take my gift to the reception for me.”
“It was nice of you,” Charlotte says, but her voice is strained and her lips purse, like it takes great effort to compliment me.
Why the animosity? She seems uncomfortable around me, and it was that way when we went out for lunch years ago.
I open my mouth to ask her if there’s something wrong, but the words die out before I can speak. How would I even go about asking that? And what would she think about such an odd question?
She stands from her chair across from me and steps to the door. “Let’s see if the milk replacer did its magic.”
I join her on the porch, only to hear another angry meow. We go down the steps and shine our light in there again.
“He’s still there.”
Charlotte frowns. “Well, he probably doesn’t appreciate having a blinding light in his face.”
“Oh yeah. You’re probably right.” I shut off the flashlight. “Sorry, little guy.”
