NINE
“He’s not my boyfriend!” The words shoot out of me with no grace at all as we enter the laundry room together. Washing machines hum as the clothes inside thump about. “...But he is pretty cute, right?”
Clearly pleased with my willingness to talk about it, Sandra winks at me. “Very! So I presume your talk with your parents went well, then?”
Barbed wire fills my throat. Opening my mouth, nothing comes out at first. “Uh… Uh… Well, n-not exactly…”
Sandra’s smile disappears in an instant, her hunched over frame appearing even smaller when her eyebrows raise up in obvious pity. “Oh, dear…”
“It’s okay.” It’s not okay. “I’ve got my friends, and my super awesome neighbors.”
Just as I thought, I suck at lying. Sandra doesn’t seem convinced at all, but she’s not like Haley, she doesn’t push. Her eyes do all the real speaking. “Well, I’m always here if you need to chat. You’re a very wonderful boy, Duncan.”
That’s enough to make me wanna cry. “T-Thank you, Sandra.” Blinking quickly to hide my tears, I turn away to carelessly dump my clothes into the washing machine.
Why was it so hard for my parents to care about me? If some lady I barely know is capable of showing me that kind of warmth, why weren’t the people who spent my entire life with me able to?
Is it me? Am I the problem? What other reason could there be? In the end, it's always a me problem. No one likes me because I’m me. I could spend the rest of my life blaming everyone else, but that wouldn’t change anything.
“Duncan…?”
Sniffling, I force myself to face her with the same warmth she gave me. “I’m fine. Thank you very much, Sandra. I’m going to head back down now. Thank you for talking with me.”
I’m sure she wants to protest, but I don’t give her a chance as I race for the stairs. I swear I wasn’t always this sensitive. The walk back to my own apartment is short, but it feels as though time itself has come to a stop.
When I push the door open a familiar cold breeze hits me.
There’s no way. There’s literally no way.
I stomp over to my bedroom to find that the window is open again.
How? Why? I didn’t open it. It wasn’t open.
I close it with a sigh, only to find that the space is oddly quiet. My usual greeter wasn’t here.
“Chalupa?” My voice is quiet, because I really don’t want what I think to be true. “Chalupa? Are you here? Come on out, buddy.”
No thud of padded paws hitting the hardwood, or the little pitter-patter of his hastened steps. My heart sinks. “Chalupa! Come on…!”
The panic finally grabs hold of me, and before I know it I’ve ripped open not only my bedroom but every other hiding spot I can think of. He’s not under the couch, he’s not sleeping in my bed, and he’s not hiding on top of the fridge.
Where the fuck is my cat?
“Chalupa!” I shout, voice breaking as I race back towards the window to pull it open. Peering my head out like a madman, my cat is nowhere to be found. What should I do when I can barely form a cohesive thought?
Tears blur my vision but I can’t find it in myself to cry. Of course this would happen. I try my best to find a silver living only for the entire damn cloud to land on top of me. Chalupa’s the only constant I’ve had, and now he’s gone? Because I’m so stupid I couldn’t close a window?
Soft vibrations emit from my phone but I can’t care enough to check who it is. I don’t wanna talk to anyone. I just want to die. I truly, honestly, just want to die. Maybe it’s an overreaction, and maybe it's immature, but it's how I feel.
Even if someone were to find him, I couldn’t afford to get him microchipped. I didn’t intend to get a cat, but I found him. He came to me when I needed him and I fucked it up. I always fuck everything up.
My phone continues to buzz as I collapse onto my bed. Every muscle in my body feels numb, and my brain is nothing but TV static. Amidst it all I manage to fall asleep, but then the next two days of my life are nothing but a blur.
I wake up, fail to get out of bed, and fall back asleep. It’s so disgusting. How can I pretend to care but I can’t even get off my ass to put up posters or get help? Do I just get off on being a victim?
When I finally find it in myself to brush my damn teeth, my attention shifts everywhere but the mirror. I’m a goddamn ghoul. It’s really funny how all the photos on my social media have me glowing and being all happy, when that hasn’t ever really been the case.
This is the true me. Sunken in eyes that look dead, hollow cheeks, and a frown that’s permanently etched into my tawny skin. Get a grip, Duncan. Or don’t. It probably doesn’t matter anymore, anyways.
Finn hasn’t left me nearly as many messages as I thought he would. Mostly he’s been telling me about his day and repeatedly asking if I’m okay. Haley on the other hand has gone ballistic, spamming every account I’ve ever created and calling me hundreds of times.
Yet it’s not Haley I respond to, it’s Finn.
sorry. my cat ran away.
Finn replies instantly, but I figured he would. That’s exactly why I chose him. It’s selfish, but he’s convenient. He warps his entire schedule just to talk to me, and that makes me feel special.
Finn!
What!? Chalupa!? Why!?
i left my window open
Oh my god. I’m so sorry.
its not ur fault. Im just an idoit
idiot*
case and point.
Duncan, you are not an idiot. Not even close. Would you like me to come over and pick you up? We can look around town to see if he’s hiding somewhere.
we wont find him, its hopeless
If you love him, isn’t it worth a try?
Of course it’s worth a try, and I hate that he’s right. I’ve been wallowing in self pity instead of trying to find my poor cat. If anything happened to him… I don’t wanna think about it.
i guess
what time can you be here?