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“Well, can you at least tell me what’s going on in school so that your mother can’t accuse me of being uninformed and uninterested?” I asked, feeling less guilty than I normally did about playing the “Mom’s bad” card tonight. Remy was a good mother, but even after the divorce, she remained a pain in my ass.
“I don’t know; my grades aren’t great, but I’m working on getting them up before the end of the term,” she said, looking over at me apprehensively. “I’m doing okay in Chemistry, but Trig and History are giving me a hard time.”
“Do I need to hire a tutor to help you?” I asked.
“Oh God, Dad, please stop,” she said, rolling her eyes again. “I can’t take this from both you and Mom. I’ll get my grades up. I swear. Can we just let it go?”
“Are you having boy trouble?” I asked tentatively.
“DAD!” Nina shouted. “Do not even go there. I can’t even with you!”
“Okay, okay!” I said, backpedaling hard. “I won’t go there. I’m just saying I’m here if you need to talk about anything.”
“Anything?” she asked, as we pulled into the driveway. “You’d really talk about anything? Like sex and birth control and how to put a condom on a boy’s penis?”
“Okay! Okay! Stop! Just stop!” I said, holding up a hand. “Yes, I will talk about anything, but I’m not going to talk about that last thing until after I’ve had a shower, some dinner, and a beer…or two.”
“Don’t worry, Dad,” she laughed. “I have zero need to discuss any of those things tonight. Can we watch Saw 2 during dinner?”
“Do we have to?” I asked.
“Fine, My Little Pony it is,” she teased, as she danced up the walk holding the pizzas, leaving me to follow in her wake carrying her bags.
Chapter Two
Emily
Saturday afternoon I was in the kitchen chopping celery and onions to mix with the can of tuna I’d opened for lunch. I’d spent the morning grading papers from my sophomore History class, and was in desperate need of a break after reading one too many essays that started with “Back in the day.” I’d turned on the radio and was bopping to the sound of Van Morrison’s “Domino” when I felt a head bump my lower leg.
“Oh, Howard, not again!” I cried, as I turned to see my fat orange tabby cat drop yet another stunned mouse at my feet. Howard sat looking up at me expectantly before looking down and giving his prey a light pat with his big paw. He mewed at it, then at me, and when I didn’t immediately respond with a treat, he hauled himself to his feet and walked out of the kitchen, stopping to throw an irritated look at me over his shoulder. “Don’t give me that look, mister! I’m not the one who can’t always finish the deed!”
The mouse wasn’t dead, but there was no way I was going to kill it, so I grabbed a paper towel off the roll and reached down to grab the creature’s tail. Howard returned to the kitchen and wound himself around my legs as I walked to the back door.
“Stop that!” I scolded, as the mouse wriggled a little and then went limp again. Howard looked up at me, blinked once, and began vigorously licking his paw and cleaning his head before he stopped and followed me. I stepped out onto the back porch, walked down the stairs, and across the yard, where I flung the now-squirming rodent over the back fence into the woods behind my house.
“You’re impossible; you know that, right?” I said, as I looked at the round cat sitting on the top step of the porch. Howard blinked and mewed in protest as I climbed the stairs.
“I supposed you want lunch now, eh?” I asked, as he watched me make my way up the steps.
Howard blinked once and turned toward the door, waiting for me to let him inside. I shook my head and held the door open as he regally entered the house. He was an odd cat, and had been since I’d found him as a kitten crying outside the back door of the run-down house I’d been living in while going to college. It had rained that night, and he was soaking wet. I’d taken one look at the tiny little face and dripping whiskers and then became the sucker of the century. I’d named him after my favorite historian at Boston University, Howard Zinn, and had done my best to keep his presence on the down low since the lady I rented from didn’t like cats. With his mellow personality, Howard had proved to be a bit standoffish and, except for the fact that half the time he refused to kill the prey he presented me with, I found him to be an ideal companion.
“Couldn’t you just kill it before you bring it to me?” I asked, as I scooped the dry food into his bowl and pulled the water bowl off the floor so I could wash and refill it. “I mean, there’s plenty of them to catch, and how much trouble would it be to just bite their head
s off?”
Howard didn’t look up from his food, and when I replaced the water bowl, he simply gave me the old side eye. I loved his grumpy-yet-superior attitude, and the fact that he was more than happy to stretch himself across my lap at night while I graded papers, watched a documentary, or caught up on the latest historical nonfiction book I’d ordered. Together we shared a quiet, but comfortable, life.
“Hey, Em, you home?” a voice called from the front room. “Em?”
“Back here in the kitchen, KO!” I called as my best friend, Kendra Ornish, came bounding into the kitchen. She was the exact opposite of me in almost every way. She was tall and thin with olive skin and a mop of thick black curls that she often tried to tame with a pair of chopsticks. She dressed like a biker, in jeans and long sleeve T-shirts with sayings on them like “Fuck Authority. I AM the Authority.” Unlike my own, KO spent her childhood being bounced around from family member to family member until her grandparents, Memaw and Pop, had finally taken her in for good when she was in her teens. She was outgoing and brutally honest, and it came in handy in her line of work as a bartender at The Lucky Clover. I also loved the way she embraced life and the way she swept me up with her. I said, “I’m making lunch; you hungry?”
“I hadn’t seen you in a few days, and I wanted to make sure those high schoolers hadn’t plowed you under,” Kendra said, as she walked toward the island, leaned across it, and grabbed half of the tuna sandwich I’d put on a plate and took a huge bite. She mumbled with a full mouth, “You know me, I could eat a bit.”
Laughing, I pushed the plate across the counter and went to the fridge to get her something to drink. “Soda?” I asked.
She nodded and took another huge bite out of the sandwich. I slid a cold can across the counter and began making a second sandwich for myself.
“Damn girl, you’re like one of my 10th graders!” I laughed as Kendra made quick work of the first half of the sandwich and most of the chips.
