As I’m speaking, Penguin hops up onto Madison’s bed and pushes his head into her arm.
“Okay, fine. I can be adventurous. But if we get caught, you were blackmailing me.”
“Deal.”
That’s one obstacle overcome. Now I just need to figure out what to do with these cats.
Unfortunately, no matter which way I spin it, I keep coming back to the same solution to my cat dilemma, which is that Ruthie and Penguin need a place to stay that (a) doesn’t put my and Madison’s academic careers in jeopardy and (b) is larger than two hundred square feet.
Asking my parents is out of the question—they’re not animal people, and I don’t trust my mom not to throw the cats outside and claim they got out. Sierra’s too far away. I don’t know anyone else I’d trust with the cats except for the Second Take Anonymous group.
Any of them would take the cats in, but there’s only one I can imagine sharing custody with. And she and I aren’t currently speaking.
The thing is, I’ve had a lot of time to think about our fight, and I know I have to swallow my pride and reach out. Ruthie and Penguin just so happen to offer me the perfect excuse.
I’ve got to see a woman about a couple of cats.
I decide against calling or texting Kimiko and instead show up unannounced at her house. I think it’s because her parting words keep ringing in my head—Call me when you realize I’m right—and I’m not ready to swallow quitethatmuch of my pride. Baby steps.
The door swings open. Kimiko doesn’t hide her shock at finding me on her doorstep.
“This is a surprise.”
“I’m here to ask for a favor.” I cut right to the chase.
“Okay,” she says, the word a long-drawn-out drawl, and steps aside to let me in. Once we’re in her living room—the one with gruesome art staring down at us—I press forward.
“I’m still upset about what happened at the party,” I say, figuring I might as well get it off my chest. Lay out all my cards, so to speak.
“Gotta tell you, this is an interesting tactic as far as requesting favors goes,” she says, but there’s an enigmatic smile on her face, so I don’t think she’s mad about it.
“I’m still upset, but I’ve given it a lot of thought—honestly, I’ve triednotto give it too much thought, because the more I think about it, the more I realize you were right.”
“The tactic’s getting less interesting,” she says, sounding disappointed. God, that’ssolike her—it’s enough that I almost want to laugh.
I ignore her and press on. “There was no good way to get Helen not to drink. No way to explain the truth, and without an explanation—she was just a freshman at a party trying to have a good time.”
“Oh, don’t worry, I made sure shedidn’thave a good time. She’ll have absolutely no positive associations with alcohol from that night.”
“I want to protect her,” I say, “but you’re right—the only way for me to do that is to make sure I’m a good friend and that I continue to be a good friend through everything life has in store. Only thing is, the more I think back on my first life, the more I realize I’mnota good friend. Never have been. I’m kind of a shit friend, to be honest.”
“If you’re a shit friend, I’m a shit friend—I literally don’t talk to anyone from my first life except my fuckup cousin. And there are definitely people I could’ve—” She breaks off and takes a deep breath. “I think it’s huge that you’re putting so much energy into helping your friend. A lot of people wouldn’t bother. I bet you’re a better friend than you think you are.”
“Maybe. Or maybe I’m just an asshole who’s finally growing a conscience,” I say wryly.
“Even assholes need friends,” she jokes. “I guess I should apologize too—”
“No need,” I cut in. “You’re good.”
“But I thought we were growing consciences.”
“Yeah,Iam. You shouldn’t. It sounds too weird coming from you.”
With a laugh, she hurls herself across the couch and engulfs me in a hug, and the experience is so weird that I find myself rooted in place, frozen. I never would have expected Kimiko to be a hugger.
She backs away suddenly, clears her throat, looks me dead in the eye, and says, “If you tell anyone I did that, I will deny it.”
“Wouldn’t dare.”
