Gregory just smiles, a wide and happy one. “I can’t wait.”
We start walking again soon after that, and we talk until my phone alerts me that it’s only ten minutes until curfew, so I tell him I’d better get going.
“Oh, okay,” he says.
“Gonna head back to the party?” I ask.
He glances in that direction, then looks back at me. “Nah. I’ll probably head home too. See you around?”
I smile. “Yeah, I’m sure I’ll see you later.” On the way to my house I send Myles a quick text.
Me: Sorry I bailed, but: curfew. See you at work!
It’s not until I get to my house that I remember Kat called, and I promise myself I’ll call her back tomorrow.
13PLAYLIST:weird flex but ok
WHEN I CALL KATback the next afternoon, it goes straight to voicemail. I get a text almost immediately:
Kat: Getting some sun, call you later!
It comes with a selfie of her spread out in a lounge chair next to someone’s gorgeous backyard pool. Two other girls are in the shot—one in the pool and one beside her, waving at the camera.
“You can’t talk on the phone while you’re lying by the pool?” I mutter to myself. I reply that Margarine had a health scare but that she’s home safe and sound now, hoping maybe that will be enough for Kat to call.
She just sends two crying-face emojis and promises we’ll talk tonight.
I find my mom in the kitchen kneading bread, and I grab a blueberry muffin that’s no longer warm, since she probably madethem when she got up several hours ago. I pop it into the microwave, pour a glass of OJ, and settle at the kitchen table. Norah Jones serenades us softly in the background.
“Have you talked to Kat lately?” Mom asks.
I’ve just shoveled a bite of muffin into my mouth, so it takes me a minute to reply. “Not since Thursday.”
Her brows rise. “Really?”
I shrug, acting like it doesn’t bother me. “She’s busy with tennis.”
“Has she met some new friends?” she asks. I can tell she’s trying to handle me carefully by the way her tone is slow and even.
“I guess so.”
She stops kneading and wipes her hands on a dish towel. She comes to stand behind me and wraps her arms around my shoulders. “I know this is hard, honey.”
Do you?I don’t say it out loud, because I know she’s trying to help, but does she really know how it feels for the one person she could count on and be her whole self around to leave—and worse, to barely look back?
“Don’t want to talk about it?” she guesses. I’m usually comfortable talking to my parents, and they both give good advice. But I don’t want to start my day off like this, so I shake my head.
Mom kisses my hair and says, “Okay,” then goes back to her bread.
After I finish eating, I take Margarine on a short walk. The vet said she’d need to build back up to our usual distance but that the exercise was important. I pause halfway so she can rest before heading home, and I settle in the sand and lean back on my hands.Margarine plops down beside me, panting, head swiveling to keep track of everything going on around us. I tip my face to the sun, letting the warm rays seep into my skin. A happy sigh escapes me, and I relish the temporary joy I always feel sitting by the water.
When we finally make our way home, I see a little girl with a Hello Kitty shirt and remember the stray cats I saw behind the grocery store on Friday. With Margarine’s emergency vet visit and then my work shift, I completely forgot about them, and I decide to stop by the grocery store to see if they’re still there.
Mom says she doesn’t need the car—she has a full day of baking planned—and that I can take hers, so that’s what I do. It’s a little after two in the afternoon when I pull into the lot, and I park along the side of the building to stay out of the customer spots. It takes me twenty minutes to get to the back door that leads to the alley, because I get waylaid by Martin, Gia, and new photos of Sandy’s grandkids.
Finally I step through the door. The picnic tables are empty, as usual, and the scent of doughnuts lingers from the shop next door. I turn and head toward the alcove, unsure if I’m hoping the cats are still here (so I can make sure they’re fed) or not (maybe someone took them in and they’re cuddled up in a soft, fluffy bed somewhere).
As it turns out, I get a little bit of both. I prop my hands on my waist and grin when I realize what I’m looking at.
