Chapter 52
Some weeks pass in a blur of fun, social outings, and creative output.
Others somehow manage to both speed and drag under the monotonous drudgery of appointments and chores.
This week was neither of those. Well, previously it probably would’ve been the latter, but with Cal back in her life, Michael messaging almost every day about this or that, and bright, warm sunshine promising an early spring, even the grimmest tasks and information seemed lighter somehow.
Audra had grudgingly, very grudgingly, gone to the doctor with Vic as agreed to—but not before completely astounding Vic.
“Here,” she’d said grouchily, slamming a manila envelope down on the dining room table the morning Vic said they were calling to set an appointment.
“What’s this?” she asked distractedly. Christmas was playing with her shadow on the kitchen floor tiles and it was beyond adorable.
“It’s affecting my noggin, or so they say.” Audra knocked on the side of her forehead.
“What?” Vic forgot all about cute Christmas and grabbed up the envelope, pulled out the contents, and scanned them briefly.
She stared at Audra in something like horror. “You had tests done. You have a formal diagnosis.”
“Yes, yes,” Audra snapped. “I’m not an idiot, Victoria. I know what I had done. I know what I have.”
Vic could only shake her head. “Is this why you finally quit smoking?”
“Is this why—” Audra mimicked.
Vic raised her eyebrows.
Audra dipped her head. “Yeah,” she said sulkily. “But the damage was done.”
Vic nodded.
Now, a week and a doctor appointment later, Vic thought she had a handle on the bad news and mostly understood why Audra had kept it secret for so long. They also had a tentative plan for going forward.
COPD, though not always an immediate death sentence, was a serious, progressive, and eventually terminal disease.
And Audra wasn’t in early stages—though she also wasn’t quite at Stage 4.
She might, with Vic’s help managing it and continued care in other ways, live for another decade, but .
. . she also might not. Then again, were there ever guarantees about how long you had in this life? No.
They already had a follow-up appointment booked, where the doctor was going to discuss oxygen therapy and pulmonary rehabilitation with them.
“I don’t want to drag a tank around with me everywhere I go,” Audra complained more than once.
“You don’t have to drag it around. It’s just nice to have in the house if you need it—like if you’re exerting yourself and your levels drop, or at night… It might help you sleep better,” Vic said.
“And if they mean exercise, why don’t they just flippen say exercise?”
“It’s nuts, just makes everything sound like a bigger deal than it is,” Cal always agreed with her, which mollified her and made her sniff in a gratified sort of way.
One evening, while the three of them were watching their nightly NCIS, Vic’s phone buzzed. She picked it up and her heart plummeted. It was a message from one of the local community boards.
“That cat you found. It’s mine,” she read. And the rest of the message convinced her it was true.
Cal had been tracing delicious, lazy circles just above her knee, but he glanced at her face, and his fingers froze on her leg. “What is it?”
“It was someone reaching out about Christmas. They recognize her and say she’s theirs,” Vic said, but she was slightly distracted, thinking.
Audra made a distressed sound, and her face opened for a moment, looked soft—then shattered and closed tightly again. “Well, that’s that. We lose our cat.”
That Audra used the word “our” wasn’t lost on Vic.
Moved, a small lump formed in the throat. This mother of hers… so uncomfortably prickly and always ready to accept defeat and loss as impossible to avoid. Vic accepted that she might never know all the what’s and why’s that had made her that way. And that was okay.
“What if… what if we could keep Christmas and have another cat besides?”
“What are you talking about?” Audra asked suspiciously, eyes narrowing.
Vic moved from the couch, pulled an ottoman over in front of Audra’s chair, and sat down. She wanted to reach out and clasp her mom’s hand but suspected—knew—the gesture would be ill-received.
“The person who messaged says Christmas was part of a litter of stray cats that she fed and tried to tame enough to trap and bring to a shelter. Four siblings went for it. Christmas, though the friendliest of them all, wouldn’t go near the cage.
She would, however, come into the house and steal food off the counter. ”
Audra snickered proudly. “Good girl. I knew she was smarter than the average cat.”
“And one sibling and their mother steered clear too.”
“So, what about this sibling?” Cal asked, and Audra nodded approval at the question.
“A sister. Similar markings as Christmas, apparently, but a bit ‘chonkier.’”
“And what about the mother?” asked Audra. “What happened to that poor beast? The animal kingdom is just like the human one. Mothers bear all the weight of offspring.”
Vic didn’t take it personally and she didn’t feel hurt. She knew what Audra was saying, and maybe even agreed.
She did take Audra’s hand then—gave it a quick squeeze, then released it. Audra looked surprised, but not displeased.
“You know what? I don’t actually know the answer to that, Mom. They just said the mother wouldn’t step near the trap. I’ll see if they know what happened to her.”