“Why would she abandon her baby?”

“Sometimes, the mother will leave behind one of the kittens,” she explained, “if it’s sick or weaker than the rest of the litter. She does it to protect the other kittens.”

My mother made a formula for the kitten, something supposedly similar to its mother’s milk. It consisted of egg yolk, vitamin D drops, corn syrup, and Carnation milk. She held the kitten in her hand and parted his little pink lips with the tip of an eyedropper, gently squeezing the red rubber bulb to release the liquid into his mouth as he mewed sharply.

We named the kitten Bramble because of where my father had found him. I would think about Bramble all day at school, running home at the sound of the bell to find him napping or squirming about. I’d pick him up and clutch him below my chin, his hamster-like paws tickling my neck.

Then one day, Bramble died. My mother couldn’t give me a reason why, other than he must have been sick. It didn’t seem as if Bramble’s sudden death was at all traumatic to my parents. My mother continued with her cleaning duties as my father scooped up the minuscule carcass and placed it inside a shoebox. He asked if I wanted to say goodbye, and kneeling, held the box open for me.

Sobbing, I tried to touch the kitten one last time, but the cold, lifeless body terrified me, and I screamed and shielded my swollen eyes.

Carrying the box, my father left through the back door. I peeked out the window, catching him just as he dropped it into the trashcan on the corner.

Chapter 80

Dear Sunshine,

Say you found a magic lamp, and after rubbing it with the soft tips of your fingers, a genie appeared, offering you three wishes. Absolutely anything you could ever dream of. What would you wish for?

I would wish:

1. You had never left me.
2. You had never left me.
3. You had never left me.

Love,
G

Chapter 81

Driving to work one particularly foggy and drizzly morning, I noticed three crows perched on the power lines as I passed the pharmacy. What’s that rhyme again? One for sorrow, two for joy…I lifted my index finger from the steering wheel and drew an X three times in the air, over each individual crow.

Arriving at my office, I parked the car and entered the building, repeating in my head: Three for a what? Three for a what? Three for a what?

“How was your weekend?” the receptionist asked as I walked by her desk.

“Oh fine, thanks.” I stopped, tilting my head to the side. “How about you?”

“Great.” She grinned. “Just great.”

“Greeeaaat,” I repeated, dragging the word on for slightly too long. It sounded sarcastic. What the hell is wrong with me?

Continuing down the hallway, past the closed doors and dark offices, the left side of my body seemed heavier than the right. I dragged it along, lopsided, attempting to appear natural. It was as if something was holding my hand, pulling me downward.