Chapter Fourteen
Kane
I can’t sleep. Every time I try, I keep thinking about that hockey-mask man with the machete. The one the dark-haired girl said wasn’t real.
I toss and turn in my bed, but the mattress squeaks, and there’s a weird smell that’s making me wrinkle my nose.
I have to pee. But it’s dark in this room, and likely in the rest of the house, too, and I hate the dark.
I used to have a night light, but Daddy got rid of it because he said I didn’t need it.
I don’t want to get up, but I don’t want to think about what Mama or Daddy will say if I have an accident.
Daddy got real mad the last time that happened, and he and Mama yelled a lot.
So I get up and settle my feet on the cold, wooden floor and tiptoe as best I can down to the bathroom.
The hallway is dark; like a black hole about to swallow me up.
I look around for hockey-mask-men wielding machetes.
I don’t think there are any, but I don’t know for sure. Hiding is easier in the dark.
I rub my eyes as I make my way to the bathroom and carefully turn on the light. I do my business as fast as I can, flush, and wash my hands. I turn out the light, carefully heading back down to my bedroom, when I hear familiar voices.
“You did the right thing, Leah.” The masculine voice is low, but familiar. I freeze, unable to move.
“What if he finds out?” Mama asks, her voice shaky and I think she’s crying.
Why is she crying?
I don’t like when Mama cries. It makes me want to cry, too.
“He won’t find out.”
I recognize the voice.
It’s Jasper.
“She said there were others, Jas. She said—”
I can’t make out what Mama’s saying because it sounds all garbled through her crying.
“What if they are—”
“It’s my job to worry about that, Leah. Not yours.”
“And the girl? What about her?”
“What about her?” Jasper asks, his voice low. Steady.
“What will happen to her?”
I take one step forward, carefully, but I trip over something big and hard, and go down with a thud.
“Oh no, don’t tell me he’s home early.” My mother’s voice pitches, and I hear the terror in it.
“Shit,” Jasper says, and I hear a rustling, and then the click of something.
A gun.
“Stay here,” Jasper says, his voice stern. Commanding.
“Jasper…” My mother’s voice is full of worry, but something else too. Something I can’t describe, something unknown.
A second later, the bedroom door opens, and though it’s dark, I can see Jasper, gun in his hand. Pointed at me. Like usual, he’s shirtless, but he’s not usually in his underwear, and something about that makes me feel weird.
“What the—”
I blink, fear overtaking me, and the tears come fast.
Jasper slides his gun into his back pocket and sighs.
“It’s just Kane,” he says, looking down at me.
Mama appears next to him, in her nightgown. Her cheeks are red and so are her eyes.
“Baby, what are you doing up at this hour?” she asks. “You should be sleeping.”
“I can’t sleep. It’s dark,” I say, feeling like I’m in trouble, even though no one’s yelling at me.
The words fall out of my mouth. “Can I sleep with you?”
Mama’s eyes are red and tired, but she gives me the softest smile and nods.
“‘Course’ you can, baby. Come here.”
I don’t hesitate to go to her, needing to feel her touch, her warmth.
Her love.
I wrap my arms around her legs and close my eyes.
Jasper lets out a low sigh. “I should go.”
When I open my eyes, I look up, noting how he looks at her. It’s different from how Daddy looks at her. Mama looks at me, then at Jasper and nods.
“When will I see you again?” she asks, her voice low, a whisper almost.
Jasper reaches one hand out, his knuckles grazing her cheek.
“Soon,” he whispers, settling his other hand on her stomach.
“Promise?” Mama asks, looking up at him with equal fear.
Maybe she’s afraid of the hockey-mask-man with the machete, too.
“Promise,” Jasper says, as the darkness swallows me whole once more.
I wake up with a pounding headache and groan. Glancing at the clock, I note that it’s nearing ten. I reach for my phone, and when I see the call log, noting the call I made last night, it all comes flooding back to me.
Ryder.
The elevator.
My guilty masturbation session.
His sweet, smooth voice lulling me to sleep.
I liked it more than I should have. But I don’t have time to contemplate such things because I am headbutted by a small orange menace who starts meowing incessantly.
“Would you stop,” I grumble, shoving Pumpkin off of me, which only makes him meow louder.
This fucking cat, I swear.
See, this is why I don’t keep pets.
Pumpkin mewls as he climbs onto my chest, his claws sinking into my skin and I curse. He keeps up his headbuts, his torturous meows, until I finally relent.
“Okay, okay…” I sit up, rubbing my eyes, the weird dream still lingering.
I think it was a dream. Maybe part dream, part memory, because I can’t say I remember ever seeing Jasper kiss my mom.
But something tells me it was real.
And so were her words.
What if he finds out?
What about the girl?
Something tells me she means the little dark-haired girl whose name I don’t know.
Who is she? Why was Mama asking about her?
I swing my legs over the side of the bed, getting up to piss because fuck, I need to.
Pumpkin meows incessantly, following me to the damn bathroom and I shut the door so he doesn’t come in.
To which he protests loudly, but I don’t care.
I don’t need an audience while I do my business, thank you very much.
Every step I take, he’s there, wrapping his tail around me, purring, meowing for attention like he’s starved and doesn’t get enough of it, even though I know he does because I know how my neighbor is with her “babies.”
I get dressed quickly, make myself an omelet for breakfast while Pumpkin screams loudly that I have not yet fed him.
“You’ll get yours when you go home. To your mama.”
Pumpkin cries in protest. I roll my eyes. “Where you belong.”
I eat my breakfast as Pumpkin curls up on my foot, almost like he doesn’t want to move. I pick him up when I’m done, to which he protests again.
“Oh, hush.”
It doesn’t take long to slip my boots on and my coat, or to grab my keys and head over to Mrs. Burnside’s.
Pumpkin doesn’t meow or purr, or even hiss. He just goes limp against me.
I knock on her door, and hear her call out that she's coming, though it takes a minute for her to get to the door. It always does.
When she opens it, I’m met with kind brown eyes and a warm smile.
“Think I have something that belongs to you,” I say as she moves to pick up Pumpkin.
“Oh, what am I going to do with you, little Pumpkin?” she tsks before looking up at me with warmth.
“Thank you, Kane.” She smiles.
“No problem,” I say as I turn to leave, but she stops me.
“Would you like a cup of coffee? I just put on a fresh pot.”
I think about her words. Normally I wouldn’t accept such an invitation, but my head is still achy, and I could probably use the caffeine.
“Sure. I could use a cup of coffee.”
Mrs. Burnside smiles as she waves me in, and I enter her house.
I’ve been here before, so it’s not a new thing, but something about it feels different.
Pumpkin meows, running through my legs as I follow her to the kitchen, noting her other cats which are spread out everywhere.
On the couch, the counter, the rug in the hallway.
“I can’t tell you how much I appreciate that you’re so good with my babies,” she says, and I give her a half smile.
If she was better about keeping track of her babies, I wouldn’t be in this position, but I don’t say that because I’m not an asshole.
Contrary to popular belief.
“Is everything okay?” I ask carefully as she grabs us two mugs from her cabinet; the scent of coffee hitting me. It smells good, but it’s not the coffee I want. Not really.
But for now it’ll be enough.
Mrs. Burnside assures me everything is fine as she pours my coffee.
“Because if you need some help… with things…”
I barely get the words out before she’s gleaming with excitement.
“Oh, that would be lovely. I could use the help finding these babies new homes.”
“Homes?” I ask, confused. “I thought—”
Mrs. Burnside’s smile turns into a frown.
“Well, it’s not official yet, but I’m putting the place on the market next week.”
I blink. “You’re… moving?”
My throat tightens and panic and anxiety start to flourish. Mrs. Burnside’s been here for, like… ever. The thought of her moving, of not being here, is….
Well, I’m not sure what it is, but shocking definitely fits the bill.
“Yes. Next month.”
“Where?” I ask, my chest getting tight. Pumpkin curls up on my boot. “How?”
“My son, Eddy, just retired and is moving back home. Isn’t that wonderful?
” Her eyes light up, and though I want to say yes—because it is—a part of me can’t find it in me to do so.
I know she has three kids, and doesn’t really see any of them, but out of all of them, I’m pretty sure she hasn’t seen her oldest, Eddy, in like twenty years.
Something about that unsettles me, but I try to shake it off. This is a good thing, right?
So why do I feel like she’s just given me the worst news?
I nod, not trusting my mouth.
“He bought a house upstate. Near the Finger Lakes. Lots of land, too. wants me to come stay with him.”
“That’s great,” I force myself to say as neutrally as possible.
“It really is. Although he’s allergic to cats, so I won’t be able to take any of my babies with me. I’ve been posting flyers around, but haven’t had any takers yet. I don’t just want them to go to anyone, you know.”
I nod, trying to remain positive, but it’s hard.
“Yeah. I get it,” I say, clearing my throat as Pumpkin nudges my ankle. “Aren’t you going to miss them, though?” I ask, noting one tabby jumping up on the table, they plop down between us; tail flicking back and forth.
“Of course. But that’s why I want to make sure the people who take them are good people.” She looks at me, then at the tabby. Toffee, I think their name is. I can’t be sure. Might be Butterscotch. A couple of her cats look alike.