by Lesley Crewe
“Uncle Matthew is worried about you.”
He looks very familiar to me. “Did anyone ever tell you that you look like that Mad Magazine guy, Alfred E. Neuman?”
“Frequently. Usually while holding my head in the toilet at school.”
“Kids suck.”
“Yes, they do. According to my uncle you’ve had a pretty traumatic time of it these last few months.”
“No.”
“Perhaps I have the wrong file.” He shuffles through some papers and quickly reads one out loud. “You quit your job.”
“Yeah.”
“You’ve had a broken nose, a concussion, a broken wrist and finger, and sprained ankle.”
“So?”
“Your weight is fluctuating, your menses unpredictable.”
“Good grief, he actually told you that? Is nothing sacred?”
“Not to a shrink. You lost your parents in a terrible accident when you were fifteen.”
“I killed them.”
He writes it down. “That I didn’t know. Were you tried and convicted in a court of law?”
“Yeah.”
“How much time did you serve?”
“Ten years, three months, four days, seven hours, and fifty-five minutes. Make that fifty-six.”
He writes that down as well.
“I have to go.”
When I stand up, he does too.
“No problem. Please come back for your appointment in two weeks, same time, or Uncle Matthew will hunt you down. You know what he’s like. I’m hoping to have chairs by then.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
I’m not using my car as much as I thought I would, but then I have nowhere to go and nothing to do. Which is fine. You can’t get hurt when you’re by yourself.
At least, I thought I was by myself, but then one day Gramps and Aunt Ollie don’t come home for dinner. I’m used to them going out from time to time, but they always come home for supper. Not that I usually eat with them, but it’s comforting to hear them banging, stomping, and hollering at each other through the wall.
As it gets later and later, I go next door and bring the cats back with me. That keeps me calm for about an hour. I watch a modelling show and eat a box of animal crackers, but now that it’s past nine and there’s still no sign of them, I’m getting concerned. There’s no way to get in touch with them because they don’t have cellphones, so I pace back and forth in front of my living room window waiting for them to show up. Tomorrow I’m going out and buying them both a phone. Why haven’t I thought of this before? An elderly man shouldn’t be driving around a big, bad city unable to call for help. And Aunt Ollie…well, she’s a perfect victim for any one of a hundred crimes.
At ten o’clock, I call the police.
“Have they been missing for twenty-four hours?”
“No, but it’s not like them. I’m telling you something’s wrong.”
“Okay, calm down. We don’t file a report until they’ve been missing for a full twenty-four hours, so call us tomorrow if you still haven’t heard from them. I’m sure they’re fine. Usually these cases turn out to be nothing. Call their friends.”
“They don’t have any friends! It’s just the three of us and now I’m alone.” Talking to this guy is useless, so I hang up. What should I do?
Oh, for cryin’ out loud.
I wish Gramps and Aunt Ollie would come home right this minute.
One more glance out the window and I see Gramps’s car turning into the driveway, just as an unfamiliar car stops in front of the house and lets Aunt Ollie out. The relief is overwhelming, but it changes to anger before long. I walk out onto the cold and blustery porch.
“Where were you guys? You scared me half to death!”
“I was on a date. I took Effie to the movies and then we went out for coffee.”
“And what’s your excuse?” I glare at Aunt Ollie. “You could’ve left a note!”
“I was at my book club.”
“It’s supposed to be your book club. Why aren’t you having it in your house?”
“I wanted to go over there. It’s not far, and it’s a change of scenery, if you must know.”
Now that my heart has stopped racing, I gather my wits. “Next time, please leave a note telling me where you are.”
“I’m freezing,” Gramps says. “Is the interrogation over?”
“Sorry, yes. The cats are with me. Good night.”
Around nine in the morning I go over to their place to discuss buying cellphones, but there’s no one home. There are two notes on the table.
I’ve been invited to Gladys’s house. We’re going for a drive and then she’s making me dinner, so I won’t be home till tonight. Don’t wait up.
Chloe, Agatha and I are going to the library and then on a stakeout. I have no idea when I’ll be home, so don’t wait up.
A stakeout! What does that mean? Somehow my reclusive aunt and grandfather have developed more interesting social lives than me.
I’m in my pyjamas with the lights out in the living room so no one can see me at the window. It’s now eleven, and I should’ve been in bed two hours ago, but Gramps and Aunt Ollie aren’t home yet. It’s damned inconsiderate not to call and give me a rough idea of when to expect them.
The cats sit on the windowsills staring out into the dark unknown. Their company makes things so much better.
Aunt Ollie comes home first. She struggles out of an old Cadillac, bending down to have a quick word with the driver, and then shuts the door and waves until the car disappears. As she hauls herself up the stairs I’m trying to figure out what’s different about her. That’s when I realize she’s smiling and doesn’t have those dumb curlers in her hair.
Gramps comes home about fifteen minutes later. He whistles as he comes up the steps. There’s something different about him, too. It looks like he went to a barber and had the springy grey hair removed from his facial orifices. Even his eyebrows look tamed. He’s positively dapper.
Thank goodness I can drag my weary body to bed now, knowing they’re safe. But three little kittens decide they don’t want to go to bed and chase each other around my room and then jump from the furniture onto the bed. They get me up at four in the morning, howling because they want something to eat. Norton sleeps through it all.
Since I’m up early anyway, I listen for signs of life next door. I want to catch Gramps and Aunt Ollie before they disappear again. They need to provide me with more information than I currently have.
The toilet flushes next door. That’s my cue to go over.
“Yoo-hoo…good morning.”
“We’re in here.” Gramps is at the table while Aunt Ollie stands by the stove waiting on his four-minute boiled eggs.
“Would you like some toast?” Aunt Ollie asks me.
“Sure, that would be great.” My bum hits the nearest chair.
“I’d like two slices as well,” she says.
Up I get to put on the toast. “So you guys had a busy day yesterday.”
They both nod, but it doesn’t look like they’re listening to me. There is no sense in continuing this until they’re both at the table. When we’re seated, I try again.
“So what’s Gladys like and what happened to Effie?”
Gramps grins from ear to ear. “Different day, different woman. Gladys is a swell gal. And cook! Her dinner was the best I’ve had in years.”
I expect Aunt Ollie to start hollering that he can make his own damn dinners, but she doesn’t. She puts jam on her toast instead.
“You must be having fun with your new friend, Aunt Ollie. You say she lives nearby?”
She nods. “Agatha lives about ten minutes from here in a duplex. It’s a little rundown, but she’s getting older.”
“Doesn’t she have family who can help?”
“No. She’s single like me.”
“So, what did you mean about going on a stakeout? I thought it was a book club.”
Aunt Ollie slathers more jam on her crust. “She’s a mystery buff who loves Agatha Christie novels, and she runs her own detective agency. She calls it Nosy Parker, because her last name is Parker.”
“Do you mean she actually follows people around? Isn’t that dangerous? I’m not sure I like the idea of that.”
“You don’t have to. You’re not my mother.”
Now I’m concerned. “You can’t chase criminals around. They carry guns!”
“Oh good gravy, she’s not the FBI! She does favours for her neighbours, like check out when so-and-so left their house, or what time someone came home…that sort of thing. Agatha says she makes a great snoop because old ladies are practically invisible.”
“Promise me you won’t get involved in her escapades. A cheating husband could go after you with a baseball bat if he thought you were squealing to his wife.”
“Leave the girl alone. This is the most fun she’s had in forty years.”
I find a pad of paper and a pencil. “I want their names and addresses and phone numbers, so that if anything happens I know who to call.”
They reluctantly gather the information and scribble it down.
“Thank you. Now, what are you up to today?”
“Greta wants me to help her move some boxes.”
“Who is Greta? Never mind…put her name and address down too. Please don’t have a heart attack lifting those boxes. And you?”
Aunt Ollie eats the last of the jam out of the jar. “We’re going on another stakeout.”
“Oh, Jesus.”
“It’s like having a picnic in the car, only you keep your eyes peeled while you’re eating. I’ll be fine.”
“I’m going to buy you cellphones so you can call me if you’re running late. I’ll teach you how to use them.”
“I’m not going to call you like I’m a little kid,” Gramps grumps.
“Fine, but I want you to have one so I can call you if I need to.”
“A lot of nonsense.”
“Before you go, Chloe, your grandfather and I have discussed this, and we think the cats are better off with you full-time, our schedules are so hectic now. But we want visitation rights every other weekend.”
I leave feeling like I don’t recognize anyone anymore.
My kids have me up all night, every night. If Peanut isn’t yowling about something, then Bobby’s getting stuck somewhere. When Rosemary wants to use the litter box, the other two decide they do too, with disastrous results. I clean, feed, referee, and roller fur, and I step on surprise bits of throw-up in the process. All the toys I bought out of guilt are now strewn from one end of my house to the other. Mess bothers me, which I never knew before, as I’ve never had anyone to pick up after.
I start doing internet research on the best brands of cat food to buy, and quickly discover that if you don’t want your precious pets to die of cancer, you have to cook their meals with organic food. So now I’m buying free-range eggs and chicken and bags of flax seed and I crush supplements into their meals. They are eating better than I am. It’s true what they say. Mothers will do anything for their children—but those same saints become martyrs very quickly, and I can hardly complain to Aunt Ollie. I begin to miss Amanda.
I’m moping around the house trying to get up the energy to go buy those cellphones when my doorbell rings. It’s Trey, holding a large box of chocolates.
“Hi Trey, what a nice surprise.”
“Chloe, you look like an unmade bed! What happened to the little spitfire I know and love?”
“She left long ago. Come in.”
He follows me into the living room and hands me my gift before his eyes roam around the room.
“I know, it’s awful. I have to redecorate.”
“You have to decorate it before you can redecorate it. A flower-covered fence wallpaper border belongs in the Smithsonian.”
“I’ve missed you.” I open my box of goodies and pop one in my mouth. “Help yourself.”
He sits beside me on the pitiful couch. “You’ve been on my mind. The premiere is coming up and the crew thought we’d get together to watch it. You have to come.”
“I can’t. I’d only ruin it for everyone.”
“That’s ridiculous. Everyone cares about you.”
“Amanda doesn’t.”
“She tried to call you for weeks but you never answered. Then your bulldog Aunt Ollie threatened her with a broom. What’s she supposed to think? People won’t run after you forever.”
“Trey, I don’t have the energy to fix things right now.”
“Are you getting help?”
“I saw a shrink for five minutes. How’s Jerry?”
“He’s still driving me crazy, so everything is right with the world.” He takes out one of his business cards and turns it over to write on the back. “This is my address. Come around eight, a week from Monday night. It won’t be the same if my favourite Girl Guide’s not there.” He stands up. “I better go, you look tired. Take care, Chloe.” He gives me a hug before he sees himself out. I take the chocolates to bed and eat all of them.
The next day I buy the phones and crawl back to bed. The day after that I show Gramps and Aunt Ollie how to use them. It doesn’t go smoothly. We holler at each other for an hour.
On the third day I’m sorting through the kittens’ stuff and find their health records, which recommend they be spayed or neutered when they’re seven months old, so I count the weeks on the calendar and sure enough, the end of January is it. Now I’m panicked. I can’t go and see Austin. I call Gramps on his cellphone. It rings twenty times before he finally figures out how to answer it.
“Who’s this?”
“It’s me, the only person who knows you have a phone. Gramps, can you take the cats to the vet for me?”
“No. Lois and I have plans.” He hangs up.
I try Aunt Ollie. She only needs ten rings to answer. “No dear, I’m busy. We’re following a suspect through Shoppers Drug Mart and we can’t lose him now.” Click.
There’s nothing to do but make the appointment, but I schedule it with one of Austin’s partners. It would be wiser for me to go to another clinic altogether, but their files are already there and I do owe some loyalty to Austin after all. He was there at the beginning when they were cute and helpless. But right now they’re in the car driving me crazy with their complaining and whining in both carriers. I look in the rear-view mirror at their devilish faces through the mesh. “Don’t make me come back there!”
The babies are bawling by the time I get to the waiting room, so it’s not like people don’t notice me. Everyone asks me how many cats I have and one little kid keeps poking at the mesh with his disgustingly dirty finger.
“Go away,” I say quietly so his mother won’t hear me.
“Make me.”
I vow to myself to never have human kids.
I spend the endless wait thinking Austin will come around the corner at any moment. We’re finally called in and I put both carriers on the floor of the examining room. “The doctor will be with you in a moment.”
“Thanks.”
The kittens aren’t pleased about their imprisonment. I look at my watch. I have to get home to watch Honey Boo Boo reruns.
After another long wait, Austin walks in the door.
I stare at him. “What are you doing here? I made an appointment with Dr. Buck.”
“Chloe?”
“Yes! You don’t remember me?”
“You look…different.”
“You don’t look so hot yourself.” He doesn’t. He’s thinner and he’s cut his hair. I don’t like it.
“Dr. Buck called in sick today.”
> “Let’s just get this over with, then. I’ve got Norton and the three kids. I want them all spayed and neutered so I don’t become an even crazier cat lady down the road. You might as well give them any shots they need while you’re at it.”
“I’ll make the arrangements. I’ll take them now, shall I?”
“No! I have to say goodbye first.” I put both carriers up on the examining table and unzip the mesh. All four come cautiously nosing their way out. It hits me how adorable they are and how if anything happened to one of them I’d die. Now I’m blubbering.
“You have to make sure they’re going to be okay. You should operate on them. You’re their father.”
After many kisses and hugs I zip them back up and Austin hands them over to an assistant out back. Their pitiful mews pierce my heart.
I wish for Norton, Bobby, Rosemary, and Peanut to come through their surgeries with absolutely no problems at all.
“I’ll make sure they’re fine.”
I didn’t realize I had wished my wish out loud.
Now that the kittens are gone, it feels as if a cavernous hole has opened up between us while we stand on either side of the examining table. I wipe my tears with the back of my hand. “How have you been?”
“Okay. You?”
“Just peachy. Trey came by and mentioned the launch party. Are you going?”
“He asked me, but I don’t think so. I’ve had quite enough of The Single Guy.”
“Ditto.”
He doesn’t smile.
“So who did you choose?”
“I can’t tell you that until the last episode airs. I signed a contract.”
I roll my eyes. “You can tell me.”
The pupils in his hazel eyes seem to narrow to a point. If he had dog’s ears, they’d be flat. “You’ve made it quite clear that I’m no longer a friend of yours, so my personal information is none of your business.”
“When did I say that?”
“That’s another thing that’s always irritated me. You conveniently forget what you say to people.”
“When have I done that?”
“You live in Chloe world. The rest of us don’t exist.”
“Now you’re being ridiculous.”
