Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 106173 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 531(@200wpm)___ 425(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106173 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 531(@200wpm)___ 425(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
I nod once, but that memory is a deep wound I don’t know how to heal. “I see her struggle through different eyes now. And when I think back to my coming to visit while I was in college . . . and her sometimes calling me Toby . . . I feel like I missed a lot of signs, that I was too wrapped up in myself to see what was happening to her.”
Kitty’s smile is full of sadness and empathy. “The best and the worst thing about hindsight is that it’s always twenty-twenty.”
“That is absolutely the truth.” I dig my fork into the mac and cheese, finally taking a bite.
It’s delicious and comforting and exactly what I need.
“I can’t pretend to know what it’s like to lose a sibling the way you did, or the way you also lost your mother, but I do know what it’s like to lose a parent. Moving forward can be tough. Sometimes we get stuck in the loop and don’t know how to get out of it,” Kitty says.
“It’s hard not to make it mine, you know?” I take another bite.
“I do. I often wonder what would have happened if I’d found my dad sooner.”
“You found him?” My stomach sinks, and my heart seems to skip a couple of beats.
“He’d been up in the attic by himself. He was supposed to bring the Christmas tree down. I assumed he’d found old albums or something and got caught up in whatever else was up there. He did that pretty much every year, would go up to get the tree and end up finding a treasure. It was my night to make dinner, and I was so focused on what I was doing that I didn’t realize how long he’d been gone. By the time I went to check on him, it was too late to save him.” She folds a paper towel into smaller and smaller squares. “All this to say, while I can’t relate completely, I can empathize.”
I reach over and cover her hand with mine. “I’m sorry for what happened to your family.”
“And I’m sorry for what happened to yours.”
Our eyes meet and lock, and I feel this connection we share in more than just the physical contact. Under her sunshine are some dark clouds, and it’s a reminder that we all have struggles.
A bolt of lightning followed by a boom of thunder makes the house shake, and Prince Francis comes bounding into the room. He launches himself onto the kitchen table and scampers over to Kitty, then promptly tries to crawl inside her shirt.
She pulls her hand out from under mine and gives Prince Francis a reassuring pet. “It’s okay, buddy, just a little thunder.”
Another bolt of lightning shoots across the sky, lighting up the night, and rain patters the roof.
We continue to talk, sharing stories, talking about what it was like to grow up without a parent, while the storm rages on outside. I’m exhausted from the day and enjoying Kitty’s company and the comfort she brings, so I call my neighbors to see if they can keep Wilfred for a sleepover. I feel bad, but Wilfred and their dog, Herman, are besties, and they’re more than happy to dog sit, allowing me to stay the night with Kitty. She offers to set up her cot in the living room, but I tell her it’s fine—I’ll sleep in my mother’s bedroom, and she can stay in mine.
We have an awkward moment in the hall when we’re both heading for our respective rooms, neither of us sure what to do. But eventually Kitty steps up and gives me a hug. “I’m glad the storm gave us an opportunity to get to know each other better.”
I wrap my arms around her. “Me, too.”
Of all the curveballs life has thrown at me lately, I’m grateful for the ray of sunshine named Kitty.
chapter thirteen
SUCH A BOOB
Kitty
I wake up to a wet nose nudging my cheek and the sound of purring. My eyes flip open, and I’m face-to-face with Prince Francis. He licks the end of my nose, his terrible kitty breath making me turn my head. He gives me a headbutt and meows in my ear.
“Is it breakfast time?” I scratch behind his ear, and he basically throws his entire body against my face.
“Some kitty is frisky this morning.” I roll out of bed and slide my feet into my slippers. It’s barely six, but Prince Francis is proving to be an early riser. And eternally hungry.
I open a fresh can of food, serve Prince Francis his stinky breakfast, and set a pot of coffee to brew. My stomach growls as I check the fridge. While I didn’t stock the fridge like I’m moving in, I brought the makings of a solid breakfast. I pull out eggs, along with cheese slices, ham, and English muffins. I love a good egg sandwich in the morning, but I always make it with scrambled eggs instead of over easy, because I don’t love the taste or the mouth feel of runny egg yolks.