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Chapter Five
Vivian
Iarrive home to find an urn on my doorstep.
At first I thought a florist paid me a visit and the neighbor’s cat dragged off the greenery, but at a second and then third take, I recognize the container for what it is. It’s resting on top of a tiny-font, graphic designer’s nightmare of a menu from the local Chinese restaurant. They deliver. Which is super convenient if you want to eat a lot of deep-fried food covered in syrupy orange sauce while lounging on your sofa.
I stoop to pick up the menu and flip it over, recognizing my brother’s tall, thin cursive when I do.
Dad belongs with you.
I take a step back from the urn as if my father might rise out of it like Marley’s ghost and warn that I’ll be visited by three specters tonight.
“Hi, Vivian!”
I nearly leap out of my thrift-store dress at the sound of Mrs. McAffey’s voice behind me. I turn to my left and find her juggling two bags of groceries awkwardly while trying to insert her key in the door.
“Would you mind, dear?” She smiles, but her smile vanishes when she notices what’s at my feet.
“No problem.” I stuff my brother’s note into my purse and take a bag of groceries from her, positioning myself in between my neighbor and my dead dad.
“Is that…?” She points with her key. “What I think it is?”
“Yes,” I say solemnly. “My cat.”
Ms. McAffey frowns. “You had a cat?”
“My family’s cat. My brother dropped him off. He doesn’t want to keep him in the house. He says he’s having nightmares.”
Before my elderly neighbor can accuse me of having had a really big cat, her expression melts into grandmotherly concern. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart.”
She smashes me into a bosomy hug with her free arm and I pat her while trying not to squish the bag of bread sticking out of the top of the paper grocery sack. “Thank you,” I say, my voice muffled.
“I used to have the sweetest boy,” she says, finally opening her door. I follow her into the kitchen. “His name was Dapper and he was jet black with a little white diamond on his forehead. Prettiest cat you ever saw. What’d your baby look like?”
“Oh, uh…” I glance around the room for inspiration, which doesn’t help. Floral patterns as far as the eye can see. “He was a, um, a gray cat. We found him. In an alley.” There, that’s generic.
“And his name?” She sets down her bag and takes the one from me.
“Steele,” I blurt.
“An appropriate name for a gray cat. I’m sorry for your loss, Vivian.”
“Thank you. I should—”
“Yes, go! I wouldn’t dream of keeping you from your grieving. If you ever want to swap cat stories, you let me know.”
“Uh-huh.” I’m out of there in a flash and picking up my father’s remains. Inside my apartment, I pace the urn from living room to kitchen and back again, indecisive. I have no idea where to put him. Or it. I don’t even know what to call this.
Also, I’m going to choke my brother when I find him. You might think this is a sure sign he’s using again but this stunt reeks of sobriety. Of responsibility, which isn’t something he’s known for.
When news came that my father passed away, I sure as hell didn’t claim the body. Evidently my brother did.
I place what’s left of Walter, Senior on the counter next to the coffee pot and chew on my lip while I think. I grab my phone and video-call a friend from my former life. One of the only people, except for my brother, obviously, who knows I changed my name and ran away from my last life.
Marnie Lockwood picks up on the second ring.
“Vivvie!” Her face fills the screen and I’m happy just seeing her. I haven’t kept in touch like I should, but she’s one of those friends you can fall back in with no matter how much time has passed. “I miss you, doll!”
