Page 17 of But For You

“I said,” I repeated, “he’s a very handsome man.”

“We both know you’re the only thing I see.”

And it was true. I had been surprised, and that was all.

“Let’s go home, Marshal; maybe I have time to do you before my husband shows up to take me to my mother-in-law’s for dinner.”

“Oh, yes, please,” he whispered before he kissed me harder and held on tighter.

Sam turned onto our street and then took the left into the driveway along the right side of the house. It ran along the fence separating our property from the Petersons’, where the circus had come to town.

There were at least ten squad cars on the street and another two and an ambulance in the driveway. I didn’t get to make an inquiry; I was shoved through the back door of my house into the kitchen and told to lock the door behind me. I bolted to the window and watched Sam walk back down the driveway to the street. I could see through the chain-link fence into the Petersons’ front lawn; I saw all the neighbors standing across the street and a lot of policemen traipsing through the yard. I wanted to go outside, but that would be a bad idea, so I walked to the front door to see if the mail was splattered in the entryway.

My whole life, I’d had a mailbox; only since we’d moved into this house did I have a mail slot that everything got shoved through. As I’d expected, my stupid cat, Chilly—all white, except for his nose and the tips of his ears, which were black—was lying on his back on the mail, feet up in the air. Why he did it every single day, I had no idea. Sam thought maybe it was something new coming into the house on a daily basis that didn’t smell like him. It was just weird.

“What are you doing?” I asked my feline friend.

I got the talking he always did with me—a soft chuffing—before he rolled to his feet to prance over and greet me.

He was a “second-chance pet,” and when we had adopted him from the humane society, he was alone on one side of the cat enclosure. He was in one of the stacked metal cages instead of the Plexiglas area, where all the others were. I walked over to him, and he shoved his little paw through the bars and put it on the top of my head. Right that second, I had been a goner.

“Second chance” meant that he had been adopted and brought back. Twice. Apparently, he was manic. It was a match made in heaven!

I had had specific directions. Sam had said to go to the humane society and get a declawed, long-haired older cat that would be mellow with the kids. He liked long-haired cats because that was what he had been raised with. His mother always had Persians or Himalayans, so he knew how to care for them, the brushing that was needed, and figured that would be good for the kids, to teach them responsibility. A Maine coon, he had told me, was also perfectly acceptable.

It really had been an easy request if he’d have sent the right guy. I wasn’t him.

When I brought Chilly home, he peed on himself in the carrier because he was scared. I felt so sorry for him, but even though I wanted him to make a good impression, I just couldn’t bring myself to add to his terror by bathing him. So, unfortunately, the cat Sam saw for the first time reeked of urine, still had claws, and possessed a sort of crazed look in his eyes. It was not the best first impression that was ever made.

Dylan saved me by coming over with some kitty bath wash that you didn’t need water for, but afterward, Chilly smelled more like linen-scented piss than anything else. Sam was not impressed.

We had one of those Chia Pets that you bought at Walmart because Kola had wanted one. It was basically a head, Mr. Grass Head, and Chilly took one look at that thing and decided that it needed to be batted off of Kola and Hannah’s desk and dumped onto the floor.

Chilly got stuck between the window ledge and the chair, wedged so that his legs crossed, and he looked like Tom Hanks in The Money Pit when he was stuck in the floor in a carpet.

He got up on his back legs and attacked Hannah’s stuffed bunny, Bunny—so original—and made her shriek. He deflated Kola’s Spider-Man ball with his claws and knocked down the fan in the kitchen. All of it done within the first two hours of him living with us.

Hannah decided she wanted a puppy. Kola thought we should set him free. Sam told me if I took him back, maybe I could get a refund.

I told them all if I took him back, he was going to die.

Hannah, still consoling and comforting Bunny, called Chilly. He sprinted over, flipped a somersault for her, grabbed Bunny, bit it, rabbit-kicked it, leaped up, and then tore off in another direction.

“I hope he doesn’t suffer when they gas him.” Sam cackled.

“Honey,” I whined.

“He looks like a snow demon,” Kola told me.

“The snow is cold,” Hannah informed me.

“Yep, it’s chilly,” Kola agreed with his sister.

“Chilly!” Hannah squealed, clapping her hands.

“Chilly the cat.” Kola nodded, beaming up at me. “Chilly! Chilly!”

And the damn cat came, and he brought one of Kola’s green Nerf Blaster balls with him.