She waited patiently as I cried. When the tears slowed she offered me a tissue, and her hand. “Come,” she said. “Walk.”

We did not turn for home until my feet were sore.

I tried to mend the dolls and even the music box, with crazy glue and a book about clocks. Both were broken beyond repair. Mommy kept the music box but she put the dolls in the trash and they are gone forever; another part of her I can never get back, another thing I broke that cannot be mended.

I keep meaning to record the recipe for my vinegar strawberry sandwich, but I don’t have the heart for it now.

OLIVIA

Light, at last. Ted’s hands on me, lifting me out of the dark. Bourbon hangs thick on his breath.

“Hey, kitten,” he breathes into my fur. “You ready to behave? I hope so. I missed you so much. Come watch TV with me. Tell you something, I’ll do the stroking and you do the purring, doesn’t that sound good?”

I twist out of his hands and rake my claws across his face. I slash at his arms and chest, feel cotton and flesh part, feel the blood come. Then I run and hide beneath the couch.

He calls to me. “Please,” he says. “Come out, kitten.” He fetches a plate with two chicken fingers on it, and puts it in the center of the room by the recliner. He chirps and calls me, “Here, kitty, kitty, kitty…” The chicken fingers smell really good but I stay put. I’m hungry and thirsty, but my anger is stronger.

I feel like I don’t even know you anymore, I say, though of course all he hears is a hiss. In the end he gives up, which is typical. He can never take responsibility for anything.

As he goes, something falls out of the cuff of his pants. It is little and white, but I can’t quite make it out. The thing bounces and my tail twitches. I want to chase it. Ted doesn’t notice.

In the kitchen, I hear the hollow crack of a beer being opened, the clicking of his throat as he swallows, and his heavy tread as he climbs the stairs. The record player blares into life. The sad woman begins to sing in long elongated vowels about dancing. He’ll lie in bed now, music playing low, drinking until there’s nothing left to drink.

Right now I’m hiding under the couch, even though the dust bunnies tickle my nose very badly. I have to record this.

So, obviously, I had to go get the thing that fell out of the cuff of Ted’s pants. It was irresistible. Cats and curiosity and all that, you know?