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19
My phones have been going off again. She’s filled my burner phone with messages, till the mailbox is full. She’s done the same to my work phone. But I need to sit and listen to each one of her pathetic messages to ensure I don’t miss something that’s actually important. She whines and she threatens and she cries. She’s a wreck and she leaves it all on my phone, each stage of grief as she goes through it. It’s no longer insane, it’s scary.
I should pity her, but I don’t. I’m just waiting for her to stop. She’s gone through denial and anger and bargaining and depression, so I'm hoping she accepts how things are and moves on.
When my phone flashes again, I roll my eyes and ignore the call. I wait for the message tone to blink before I listen to the message.
“Hey, call me when you can, it’s urgent.”
I grip my phone and call home. Annie picks up midway through the first ring. “What’s wrong? Is it the baby?”
“No.” She sounds annoyed. “Did you leave the fucking window in the laundry open?”
“What?” It takes me a second to work out she’s talking about a window at home, in a room I never go into. “Why the hell would I do that? I don’t even go in there, and you know I don’t open any windows so that the bloody cat doesn’t run away.”
“Well, you did, and it did, and Savannah hasn’t stopped crying for two hours.”
“Annie, I don’t have time for this.”
“Make time.”
I grit my teeth and suck in a sharp breath. “What the hell do you want me to do? I have to work. I didn’t leave the window open. It was probably you and your baby brain.”
“Joseph.”
“Look, Annie, your message said this was urgent. And obviously this isn’t. I’ll be home in a few hours, and we’ll find the fucking cat then.”
I hang up on my wife.
* * *
When I get home, Savannah is frantic. She rushes into my arms, her small face puffed and red from crying, and my heart breaks a little at the sight of her. Her distraught little face stabs my heart. “Daddy,” she whimpers against my shirt, wetting it with her tears and snot, “Luna is gone.” She sobs and her small hands clutch at my back, her tiny body shivering.
“Let me have a look.” I pick her up in my arms and carry her around the house calling for the stupid thing. Annie gives me a dirty side look, and I still don’t know why I am getting the blame for this. After a few minutes, my arms and back start to ache. I settle my daughter on the couch and promise to keep looking if she has a chocolate milk and tries to relax. Savannah puts on a brave face and agrees.
I go to the laundry room. I need to see this window. I want to prove to my wife I know nothing about it.
The window is slightly ajar, letting the cool air seep into the room.
“I’ve already closed it.” Annie’s voice cuts behind me.
“No, you didn’t.”
She frowns and ignores me as I fiddle with the window, shutting it again. “What the hell are we going to do?”
“It’s just a cat. Relax, will you?”
Annie huffs and the muscles in her jaw dance as she glares at me.I guess it’s not just a cat.“How could you be so reckless? You know how she loves that stupid thing.”
“For fuck’s sake, Annie, I never come in here. When would I have opened the fucking window? Anyway, it looks like it’s broken.” I point at the window that hangs open again. I frown.
I watch her brain tick over thinking about it. It’s easier to blame me than the girls. I sigh, trying to breathe some calmness into the room. It’s been a stressful enough week, I don’t want to fight about the fucking cat. “Let me have a look at it, and then we can figure out the cat.”
She nods, not entirely satisfied but clearly worried enough to go sit with the girls on the couch and comfort them.
I make my way to the window. The usually secure latch hangs slightly limp. I shut the window and lock it. It takes a few minutes, but the latch slips slowly away, and the window falls open once more. I stare at it. Then take a closer look. I pry the window open and look at the lock, finding a few tiny scratches in the wood. My heart plummets into the pit of my stomach and bile claws its way up my throat.
Fuck no.
