Out of the corner of my eye, I catch an empty cab coming our way, and raise my arm before she can.

When the taxi stops next to us, I open the door before Vivian can object and wave at her to get inside. Whatever her idea of me, I’m not uncivil. I had exactly one slip-up the first time we met, and now she’ll hold that single, stress-fueled moment of bad temper against me forever.

Medusa seems surprised by my kind gesture as she gets into the car. “Thank you,” she says. And then she has to ruin it by adding, “Bye-bye, inmate.”

And, poor manners or not, before closing the door on her, I hiss, “I wish you a rather excrementitious rest of your day.”

Nineteen

Vivian

The cab’s door slams shut, and I can’t help smiling. The man, if nothing else, makes me laugh. I tell the driver my address and, as the car pulls into the street, I give a brooding Lucas a little wave through the window.

I’d be hard-pressed to decide which date was worse: mine, or his. But I keep laughing in my head throughout the entire cab ride as I remember snippets of his conversation with Sonia. If not for Lucas, lunch would’ve been utterly cheerless. Misery truly loves company.

At home, the moment I unlock the door, I’m welcomed by an avalanche of teenage angst. Tegan launches into my arms with a tear-streaked face, wailing, “Mom!”

All the worst-case scenarios shuffle through my brain at once: cyberbullying, alcohol again, Tegan’s pregnant…

“What?” I ask, agitated. “What happened?”

“Priscilla,” Tegan says. “She’s gone! I swear I left the door open only for a second, because I didn’t have enough change to pay the delivery guy, and she must’ve slipped through. But by the time I noticed, I couldn’t find her anywhere. I’ve asked all our neighbors, but no one has seen her.”

Okay, an MIA cat I can deal with.

“Don’t worry, honey,” I say, hugging her to my chest. “Priscilla has her collar with our address and phone number. I’m sure someone will find her.”

“But Prissy has never been out on her own. What if something happens to her?”

“Let me get changed, and we can go look for her. Why don’t you print a flyer with her picture, and we’ll make copies at the shop around the corner and distribute them around the neighborhood.”

“On it, Mom, you go get changed. Be quick. We can’t lose any more time.”

***

After an afternoon spent plastering our block with pictures of our missing cat, Tegan and I come back home tired and miserable and still cat-less, only to find the lost feline impatiently waiting for us on the front steps. Priscilla stares us down, swaying her tail back and forth as if annoyed we’re late for her usual dinnertime.