Serendipity and Me (9781101602805) (5 page)

 

Dad has never told me

why I can't have a cat.

 

He has just told me No

and turned his face away

stared out the window

or into his book

his mouth held

like there are marbles

resting on his tongue

 

like the marbles

are years of tears

 

petrified.

 

 

 

Dad goes out the front door.

I hear his footsteps

scrape past the empty carport

then stop.

 

I picture him

scanning the horizon

searching for the troublemaker

who dropped a cat

into our lives.

 

By the time he comes back

the kitten is already

kneading a soft spot

in my stomach.

 

Any ideas who left the cat?

he asks.

 

I shake my head.

 

His eyes squint

into his thinking expression

 

figuring a way

I suppose

 

to send the cat back.

 

 

 

It is lucky for me

I'm sick and sad.

 

Now may be my only chance.

Can't I keep it?

Please?

 

The shades come down over Dad's eyes.

You know cats aren't an option.

 

For tonight, at least?

You can't throw it out in the cold.

I wipe at my mascara-running eyes

and tearstained cheeks

to remind him

who he's dealing with

tonight.

 

Dad sighs

looks at his watch.

I guess it
is
pretty late.

I can take it to the shelter tomorrow.

 

I kiss the kitten's forehead

and it straight-arms its paw

on my mouth.

Boy or girl?
I ask.

 

Dad sighs again, then checks.

I think it's a girl.

 

Maybe looking at the end

reminds him.

I hope she's litter-trained.

I'd better go find a box

and some newspaper.

 

My heart says

And a way.

I'd better

find a way

that she can stay.

 

 

 

At least she is mine

for tonight.

 

I can pretend she'll be mine

forever.

 

I'll begin with her name. . . .

 

She's white as a snowball

but she's warm

not frozen.

 

She's squishy and soft and sweet

as a marshmallow.

 

But she's delicate as an orchid

graceful as a ballerina

miraculous as an angel.

 

I can't believe my luck

that she's here with me.

 

I guess Dad named her

after all.

 

Serendipity.

 

 

 

It's been three years.

You'd think we'd be better

by now. . . .

 

Dad does the best he can

 

but I remember

cheek-kisses

soft as velvet.

 

I remember

a gentle voice saying

It's all right, honey bunny,

I'm here.

 

I remember

sweet smells and a cushy robe

when we hugged after her bath.

 

Tonight in my room

I sprinkle Mom's scented powder

on Serendipity

and I lay my cheek on her side

 

and I remember

 

soft.

 

 

 

Serendipity is curled on my pillow.

Her kneading claws

catch on the eyelet edging

her throat rattles from purrs

her head is snuggled into my neck

so sweet it makes

my heart hurt.

 

I think—

This is what I've been missing

all these years.

 

I think—

I don't want to miss this

anymore.

 

I think—

No is not a fair word

when you're a kid

without a mother

and you need something soft

to hold on to.

 

 

I reach for the phone

dial Taylor's number.

Dad would say ten is too late

but I know Taylor won't care.

 

She answers so cheerfully

I have to bury the phone in my quilt.

 

She must have had a blast

being Nana in the play.

 

I feel a twinge

but it doesn't matter as much anymore.

Shhh
, I say.

This is secret.

 

What?
she asks, suddenly quiet.

 

How was the play?

 

Great—what's the secret?

Patience is not one of her virtues.

 

I have a cat for the night,
I say.

And I need to keep her forever.

 

Taylor is always ready.

What do you need me to do?

 

 

 

This is what we work out—

Taylor will pretend

her mom is considering

adopting the kitten.

She just needs a week

to think

to work out the details.

 

But this will not happen.

 

Dad doesn't know Taylor's mother

is allergic to cats.

 

Dad doesn't know

if we keep Serendipity

for a week

he will get over his No

because he will fall in love

with this kitten.

 

He will get over his No

because he will see

how much

I need her.

 

He will get over his No.

 

He has to.