I walk down the street and make a turn down a small side street, throwing out the tea in the first garbage can I see. It makes a terrific splunk when it hits the inside of the can. I know where they live, and I keep going in that direction. Maybe I can still save this; maybe all is not lost. Maybe I’m not forgotten.

They live on the second floor of a nice, old brick semi. I know there’s a fire escape from when I was here last time. I remember wondering if I could jet out that way after I spilled all the salt. There’s a small light on inside, but I don’t want to ring the bell, feeling suddenly like maybe I don’t want to see my dad after all. I just want to look in.

I head around the back and look up at the fire escape. It’s folded up, so I have to jump a few times to catch it, scraping my fingers and falling on my knees before I finally get on. I hang there for a little, then hoist myself up, all the while clanging and making a racket. But I’m up, and I’m climbing, and my heart is beating really hard. I don’t think about what I’ll say if I get caught but just keep climbing until I am level with their living room. There’s a landing on the fire escape here, and I sit, catch my breath, and look in the window.

A cat sees me and comes to look through the glass. It meows, its mouth yawing open soundlessly. This is new. I didn’t know my dad got a cat, and this tiny fact nearly cracks me open, right down the middle. It’s a silvery gray, and I wish I could pet it, scratch its ears. I wonder what its name is and if it’s friendly. And I sit there, on the fire escape, tears rolling down my face. My knee falls against the glass, and the cat butts its head against the window, and I imagine that it’s purring.

And then, my dad is there.

“Oh my God!” I hear him shout, clutching his chest. Then he starts laughing, relieved. “Stevie!” he says, opening the window, “you scared the bejesus out of me!” He’s laughing and he reaches out for my hand, pulling me in. I wipe my cheeks and laugh, too.

“Sorry,” I say.

“Oh my God,” he repeats, calmer now, running his hand through his hair. Then he remembers himself and gives me a big hug. “What are you doing here? Is everything okay? Is your mom okay?”

“Oh yeah,” I say, suddenly a little embarrassed. “For sure. I was just nearby … I had a thing …” This kind of vagueness wouldn’t fly with my mom, but he is nodding, smiling.