Chapter 21

Temporary Amusement

I hear the front door open and close. Heavy feet stomping and scraping mud onto the mat. “Katie?”

I recognize Mark’s voice.

But it is not the afternoon. It is Saturday evening, and already dark out. I wonder what he is doing here.

“I’m up here,” Mom calls. She opens her mouth and I think she is about to remind Mark to take off his shoes, but changes her mind. She is a mom, after all. And she is the director of a preschool. She is used to giving orders.

A moment goes by. From the sounds of shuffling, I think Mark has remembered to take off his shoes anyway.

I listen to Mark run up the stairs, two at a time. But then his footsteps slow down, and he hesitates at the doorway. He stands there, a dark shadow in the entrance, looking at Mom. She sits on the bed.

“It’s raining,” he tells her.

Mom nods. “I can hear it on the windows.”

There is a soft, peaceful sound when the wind blows the rain against the skylight in the bedroom. I always feel like our lamps cast a more golden glow indoors when the skies are gray outside.

Mark is wearing a T-shirt and shorts with a stripe on the side. It occurs to me that he looks like Kevin when he’s getting ready for one of his basketball games at the school. I have only ever seen Mark wearing jeans and work boots, and, staring at his white socks, I realize he probably had sneakers on.

Seeing the way Mom and I are studying him, he explains. “I just came from the gym. Sorry.” He smiles. “When I said just tell me when and where, I didn’t realize the answer would be right now.”

Mom laughs. She motions for him to come over.

Mark walks in and sits next to Mom on the bed, as if it is the most natural place in the world for him to sit. It is as if he’s been here in Mom’s room before. Which, of course, he has not.

I’m impressed that Mark only hesitated a moment before approaching her. This is Mom’s private space. I suppose sometimes in life it is better to act than to think too much. And I suspect he is eager to see Mom.

It is so curious! Mark has a confidence that I don’t recognize. It makes me realize how uncomfortable Charlie and Kevin are in many situations. Dad too.

I am nestled into a nice spot on Dad’s pillow, as comfortable as can be, but I still get up and walk over to ram my head into Mark’s elbow. He is my friend, and I want to ask: Why are you here? But I know Mom can get messages to people through her phone. She must have told Mark this was a good time for a visit.

I can sense how alert he is and how interested he is in Mom. He strokes my back, but barely glances at me. He’s not really here to see me.

I bat at his arm with my paw and meow! until he makes eye contact with me. “Okay, sweetheart,” he says to me. “Take it easy. Go easy now. You know you’re my baby.” He runs his fingers through the fur on my head, and I feel better.

When Mark looks back up at Mom, she lights up. It strikes me that Mom feels something from his gaze alone. I think he must sense it too, because he is the type of human who seems to be in tune with other humans. Mark takes her hand in his.

“If we do this,” Mom suddenly says, “it has to be just for us. I don’t want Vincent to know about it. He’s been my friend a long time, and he wouldn’t understand.”

Mark shakes his head. “I won’t say anything to Vincent.”

“Jeremy and the kids can’t know anything about it either,” she implores. “Things aren’t sorted out yet. With the family. Everything is up in the air.”

“Okay.”

“I don’t want you to tell your friends either. Or confess this to your priest. Or write about it online. I mean, you’re an adult. I can’t stop you if you do. But I would appreciate it if you didn’t.”

I tip my head. Mom is perplexing me. She is now just talking and talking and talking, much too quickly.

The way Mark is watching her so intently, holding her hand in his, I am quite sure he has no intention of dishonoring her wishes. He waits patiently for her to look up at him.

“All right.”

Mom swallows. She looks as nervous as a bird who has landed on the deck and senses the presence of a cat in the shadows. But Mark has no intention of hurting Mom. He is not going to attack. I can tell by the still way he holds his body, the way his mouth hangs open just a bit, as if he wants to speak but isn’t sure if he should.

Mom moves closer to him and puts her hand on his upper arm, as I’ve seen her do before. “I’m glad you came right over.” She takes in a deep breath and lets it out, and I think she is willing herself to relax. Her hand glides over his skin, just at the edge of his sleeve. Her voice sounds detached, but dreamy. “I like all the freckles.”

Mark smiles again. And then he grabs the hem of his T-shirt and pulls it off, over his head.

Mom startles, and I can see she wasn’t expecting him to do that. She takes him in for a moment as he shakes his head so his messy black hair settles a bit. Mom’s hand flutters up to touch his face, and gently run her fingers over his cheek. She then moves her hand very slowly to his chest, but she barely touches it, as if she’s afraid it will be hot like the stove. I watch her skim her hand up to his shoulder. “More freckles.” She sighs.

The freckles on his skin remind me of the heat of the summer. For a moment I imagine Mark and Mom are not sitting on the bed. In my mind, they are sitting on the dock across the street at the boat club, like two teenagers soaking up the sun and dipping their feet in the water. Nervously fidgeting. Full of anticipation. Dreaming about what might be.

Mark shrugs. “These freckles are just crazy. My skin isn’t perfect, like yours.”

Mom’s face creases with confusion, and she laughs. “What? I’m as pale as a ghost.”

“Nah, you look perfect, like marble. And that hair. It’s not really fair you have hair like that.”

I’m not exactly sure what he means by that. How is her hair unfair to him?

Mark leans forward and kisses Mom. As before, he is very tender with her.

I have made up my mind about this human: He wants someone to love. He has a lot of love to give, and he has been searching for the right person. And Mom wants desperately to be loved. So it is a good fit.

There are so many nights I have watched Mom and known she was in pain. The way she grips her lower back while working at the stove. The way she rubs her forehead too hard while sitting in front of her computer. The way she kneads a shoulder while lying in bed. It is about time for another human to make Mom feel better.

I think this just might work.

“I’m sweaty from the gym. I should take a shower,” Mark blurts out. “I mean, we both should. Together.”

“We should?” Mom asks anxiously, as if coming out of a dream. She grabs the edge of the blanket on the bed as if she’s ready to pull it up over her head and hide herself under it.

“Yeah.” Mark’s eyes light up. “I want to shampoo your hair. I think it would be romantic.”

Mom looks positively alarmed.

I, on the other hand, am amused. I look from one to the other.

I know what “romantic” means. Sort of. When Victoria uses that word, her eyes flutter upward and she sighs.

I have never heard Mom use that word. Not once.

“Look,” she says, swallowing. “Just wait a minute. Here’s the thing.”

“Yes?”

“It’s just that . . .” Mom frowns and tips her head. “I’m not really . . . You know . . .” She seems genuinely perplexed. “So my hair will get wet?”

Mark raises his eyebrows. “Yes, it will. That is exactly how I want to do it. By getting your hair wet. That is, in fact, essential to the process of shampooing.” He leans forward so he can put both hands on her hips. “Please don’t say no.”

I can see Mom is still not sure about this, but she starts to relax again, her shoulders dropping. Mark leans forward to kiss her ear, and she tips her head to the side to give him access to her neck. Mom’s eyes close when he presses his fingers into her hip bone.

She reminds me of when someone scratches at the base of my tail. I always stop moving, arch my backbone, and lean into it.

“C’mon, please. Now.” He kisses her again. Her cheek. Her mouth. “Please. Now. Shower. Don’t make me beg. Okay, never mind, too late. Please. I’m begging you. Right now.”

Mom smiles and nods, and then she gets up, and they go into her bathroom. I can see she is finally over her nerves.

After all, it’s just Mark. He is our friend.

I hear the water running, and my humans talking and laughing. It is nice to have a minute to stretch out on the scratchy wool blanket on the bed before they come kick me off. I watch the ceiling fan turn in a slow circle.

When they finally emerge from the shower, Mom comes first, wrapped in a towel. Mark wears nothing at all, and while it looks like he has dried himself, his body is still pink from the heat of the water.

Mom approaches me and pets my back absentmindedly; for good luck, perhaps. I blink at her.

It’s fine, I want to tell her. This will be easier than you think.

Mating is easy. Every creature in nature must do it.

But I know why she is nervous. Humans have all kinds of quirks, and who knows what this man wants exactly? First, the shower. What could be next?

Mark walks up behind her and wraps his arms around her. He buries his face in her neck, and she shivers when his wet hair skims her shoulder.

Mom clears her throat. “Maybe we should talk this through one more time.” I understand that she is teasing from her tone.

“This first,” Mark insists. “Talk later.”

“But are you sure you’re ready this time?”

He slides his hands up over the towel that still hides her body. “Yes. Definitely, yes. I would say that I could not possibly be more ready.”

Mom’s hand lingers on my back just a moment more, and I give her a nod. She allows Mark to turn her around.

He is young—at least, younger than Dad. I imagine that to him this feels important, and urgent. Mom lets him steer her onto the bed. I get to my feet and jump down to the rug. The wet towel comes flying onto the floor and lands beside me with a thwump.

I close my eyes to wait. This could take a while.

Or, maybe not. As I said, he is young.

One way Mark is different from Dad is that he talks to Mom the whole time. Dad approached mating with quiet intensity, and sometimes he had trouble with it, unable to focus. But Mark speaks to Mom, as if they are still having a conversation, even though Mom does not join in except to encourage him quietly. I imagine Mark is saying things she wants to hear, because soon she is nodding and practically purring.

I wonder how long this will take. I hate it when anything delays my bedtime. I tune them out for a while, cleaning my paws with my tongue. When I am done with that I let myself nod off, until something catches my ear and jolts me awake.

When I glance up, I notice that Mark moves around a lot, shifting Mom this way and that, changing positions. It is unlike anything I ever saw Dad do, and it seems completely unnecessary, if you ask me. Mark is certainly enthusiastic.

I’m rather glad Gretel isn’t here for this. She’d probably just catnap on the rug with me, but it might make her anxious.

A little later—and it seems so strange, but—I hear, loud and clear, Mom take the Lord’s name in vain. This is something she never, ever does.

My ears quiver at that! My goodness!

Has she hurt herself?

Mark laughs, and Mom says something quietly to him. But I can’t hear what it is, and it makes me anxious. I want this to go well for Mom.

I jump up on the bed again to check on her, to see if she is mad at Mark. But when I land lightly at the foot of the bed, I see he crouches above her, and she is pushing the hair from his eyes, looking at him so fondly that I think she has lost her mind.

She smiles broadly when he beams down at her. Mark has waited and gone through an elaborate mating ritual to get to this point. And now: triumph. He has made Mom happy. Mom reaches up and wraps both arms around his shoulders and pulls him down so he will lie on top of her.

Well!

I turn right around and jump back down. Mom isn’t even done with him yet. She doesn’t need my help at all.

I lay on the rug and purr. There’s almost nothing I enjoy more than seeing my humans happy.

I finally get up, stretch, and go out of the room. The house is dark and still, and it is time for me to make my rounds downstairs. Near the fireplace, I watch a daddy longlegs spider crawl along the floorboards before I toy with it, batting it with my paw. The spider finally escapes through a crack just as I’m about to eat him. I look out the sliding glass door into the woods and peer at the big fat owl that perches in a nearby evergreen tree. He’s beautiful. He stares at me, wide-eyed, but otherwise does not move.

Hoo hoo! I wish I could call to him.

The house is so still that I can hear Mom and Mark talking to each other for a long time. The words pour out of them. I get the impression that they have saved up a lot to say. And then I hear Mom drying her hair with a hair dryer. Finally, all is quiet other than the patter of light rain on the roof, and I know they are finally sleeping.

* * *

In the early hours of the morning, just before the sun rises, I hear a strange moaning sound. It worries me. I decide to go back and check on Mom. As I slink up the stairs, I realize that it is definitely Mom who is making the noise. I think she may be crying.

My heart starts pounding in my chest. Mom was so happy. Whatever could have gone wrong?

Did Mark do something he should not have done? I hurry into her bedroom.

I dash across the rug and leap right up onto the bed. But I freeze when I see they are sitting up, Mom wrapped in Mark’s arms. She looks very vulnerable, and I don’t just mean because she is undressed. She has collapsed into him, and he cradles her with a look of worry and surprise.

“I’m sorry,” she sobs. “I’m sorry. I’ve been with Jeremy for so long. It’s just that I never thought . . .” She squeezes Mark’s arm so hard I think that she must be hurting him. But he is strong, so I think the pain that registers on his face is caused by her words. “I feel like I’m betraying him.”

She smashes her face against Mark’s chest, and he tries to shush her. “It’s okay. Katie. It’s okay, sweetheart. This was going to happen. No matter what. You couldn’t have done anything differently. I’ve wanted you for a long time. There was nothing that was going to keep up apart. I love you and—”

“No. DON’T.” She rips herself out of his arms and lies down, turning over and away from him. “Oh God. I’m so sorry. This is my fault. This is all my fault. Please don’t tell Jeremy.”

Mark’s face goes pale. “But you didn’t do anything wrong. From the minute I saw you, I knew we were going to be together. I just knew. It was fate. I don’t think you could have changed the course of events.”

“Don’t be stupid.” She reaches over for a tissue and blows her nose. “We always have a choice.” Her face is splotchy and swollen from the tears. “And you don’t know how things will turn out. No one ever knows. You don’t know everything. I still love Jeremy. He’s just not well.”

Oh.

Oh!

I don’t know who is more shocked. Me or Mark.

Mark watches her. But she does not turn back to him or say anything else. She lies still, eyes shut, clutching the tissue.

He and I make eye contact. It hurts, and I wince. His eyes are wide with disbelief. I hardly know this man, but we have bonded. And now I think I am witnessing something I have not seen before.

I think Mom is breaking his heart.

“Mark. I’m sorry. What I mean is this,” Mom clarifies all in a rush, speaking over her shoulder. “We are definitely getting divorced. For sure. I cannot live with him anymore. But it still hurts. That’s all.”

Mark stares at the back of her head for a long time. He finally retreats, lying down and pulling the covers over himself. He stares up at the ceiling and chews on the inside of his mouth. I think he is stunned by what Mom has said.

Maybe Mark was right when he told Mom they should wait. Perhaps, even now, it was too soon. Maybe they both weren’t really ready for this.

The problem might be that for Mark, this is: love. That’s what I heard him say.

And just maybe, for Mom, this is: something else. I’m not sure what. But if not love, then what is it? I’m as confused as Mark is.

And while my loyalties are with Mom, I climb right over her, pushing off of her leg to get to Mark. I curl up next to him, my backbone pressing into his side, and he strokes my fur. As I knew he would. I have figured out that he is desperate to care for someone, to express love, and to have it rejected must be painful.

I don’t understand what darkness drives humans to hurt each other when they are so close to some kind of connection. I can’t fathom what causes humans to act in ways that are harmful to those they love.

It is extremely baffling.

Maybe Mom can’t return Mark’s affections right now, but I can. And I do. I purr as loud as I can.

* * *

In the early morning, I wake at the foot of the bed to see Mark curled up behind Mom, who is still turned away from him. The movement of his foot causes me to jump up, and I look to see he is awake. When Mom begins to move, he rolls her over onto her back, so his face will be the first thing she sees.

It’s funny, but Dad’s face has never been very expressive. He looks as smooth as a river rock much of the time. You cannot tell what he is thinking. Mark’s face, in contrast, is completely open and easy to read. I can tell it affects Mom from the way she rests her hand gently on his cheek.

Mark looks very tired. He is not excited the way he was last night.

“I’m not a way station you can visit between the time Jeremy leaves and the day you welcome him back here with open arms.”

“I know,” Mom says, running her fingers through his glossy black hair. “I’m sorry about last night.” Her face is pink from crying in the early morning.

“I’m not a toy for you to play with while waiting for your husband to come home.”

“I know. I understand.” She tugs at a wave of hair that falls over his ear, and gives him a sleepy smile. “I didn’t mean what I said. I mean—I did, but I’m sorry I fell apart.”

“I’m not here for your temporary amusement. I have a heart.”

“I have a heart too.” Mom runs her thumb over his mouth. “Listen. I told you. We’re definitely getting divorced. This is just new. And scary.”

Mark winces, as if in pain. “Ah, Katie. It’s scary for me too.” He lays his head down on her chest, and she cradles his head in both hands. His hand moves across her stomach, and she draws in a deep breath.

Last night, I thought they were both having fun. But now, they are very careful and gentle with each other.

“If you want me to just leave, okay. That’s okay. I’ll give Vincent some excuse about why I have to quit. I don’t want to be here if this is just some kind of experiment for you, or whatever. I’m not interested in being—”

“Shhh, Mark. Stop. Stop.” She glances down at the top of his head, and then back up at the ceiling. “That’s not what this is.”

Mom pulls him up until she can turn his head to hers. She kisses him, and easily gets him started all over again. He melts right into her advances, with no further protests. His desire is right at the surface, quickly ignited.

Dad’s love, in contrast, runs deep. I think Dad’s love runs so deep, it has perhaps been buried under mountains of worry and despair, the care of three children, and a difficult job, and a house that needs repairing, and a yard that needs constant tending. Dad has suffered in ways that I don’t understand.

But perhaps I am being unfair to Mark. I am not trying to compare him to Dad. He is my friend, and he has suffered too. He needs love as much as the next person.

Mark fulfills Mom’s every need. Whatever she asks him to do, he does. However her body moves, he responds. But he doesn’t talk like he did the night before. Which worries me.

I don’t fully understand. I thought Mom wanted Mark as her mate. If that is true, she has gotten what she wants. So what’s the matter?

I jump down from the bed when Mom accidentally bumps me with her leg. There are still things that puzzle me about the humans, and it is possible I don’t know everything going on in Mom’s head and heart.

The only human I know completely is my sweet Charlie. And Mark is going to help Charlie, isn’t he? So we need Mark.

We need him! Oh, Mom.

Mom does not have to love Mark. But I also think we cannot afford for her to cast him aside.

It’s important that Mark stay. I think of all the things I could do to win him over and keep him interested in me, and demonstrate to Mom how much we need him. I have noticed that he likes to cuddle me like a baby. Something about me is comforting to him.

The day is coming when Charlie’s bully will be exposed and caught. I hope Mark will help us get that done.

Soon after, Charlie will reconcile with Dad. And I believe Charlie will realize that he is in love with his best friend Karen. Everything will be wonderful!

I’m not sure why it’s taking Charlie so long to express his love to Karen in the same way I’ve watched Aidan fall for Victoria. But I’m not worried.

I remember last summer there was a girl Kevin would bring home sometimes to have dinner with the family. He kissed this girl a few times on the back deck when no one was looking. He was always putting his arm around her and leaning in close. The girl did seem to like Kevin very much, but she also sometimes fended him off with her hand on his chest. I thought he was a bit rude. I could see it was too much for that nice girl.

Charlie is a sweet boy. He would never be so pushy. He is what Mom would call a “gentleman,” polite and kind. So naturally I think it is just fine that Charlie is taking his time with Karen. When he is ready, he will declare his devotion in a respectful way.

I know this day is coming. I know it in my heart. If only I could help it get here sooner.