Chapter 30

What Happened in the Garage

It is a few days later, and I am outside. I am angry at myself for not realizing sooner that Kevin is the one bullying Charlie. I wasn’t paying enough attention to Kevin. And I still haven’t figured out how to let my humans know what’s going on.

The sun has started to fall from its highest position in the sky when a car pulls into the driveway, and then glides all the way into the garage. It is Dad’s car.

This is odd. He rarely comes to the house during the day when everyone is out.

Before he moved away, there were a few times Dad came home at lunch. He rifled through drawers, all around the house, searching for his medicine. Checking in cabinets. Double-checking in closets. He would sometimes leave, frustrated.

Or if he found his medicine, he would sit and have a dose of it at the kitchen table. And then go back to work. But now he doesn’t usually come by in the middle of the day.

Almost immediately, the garage door starts to go back down. I don’t understand.

Why is Dad parking in the garage and shutting the door? He usually leaves his car in the driveway.

Is he here for some purpose?

And is he trying to hide the fact that he is here, for some reason?

With an impulsive jump, I make a mad dash into the garage, right past the back wheels of the car. I barely make it in as the heavy garage door comes cranking steadily down, brushing my tail. It’s crazy, I know. But I want to go inside the garage with Dad and see what he’s up to.

My action somehow seems to trigger the door to reverse course, and it starts to rise again with a loud grinding noise. I look back over my shoulder to see it lifting, letting the sunshine back in. I run to the stairs that lead to the house, to get away from all the noise.

I still miss Dad. Sometimes I find myself holding onto hope that Dad is making plans to move back home. But then I remember my friend Mark, and how much he needs Mom. And I realize that as long as Mark is around, Dad cannot come back. Mom will only have one mate in the end, whoever she chooses. Or maybe she will send them both away. I suppose that’s possible too.

The car engine is very loud. I expect it to stop right away, but it does not.

I cower on the stairs. What’s going on? The engine continues to grumble, pulsing with energy, and hurts my ears.

I see Dad look back over his shoulder, squinting in confusion. He shakes his head slightly. And then he reaches up toward the roof of the car to press a button.

The garage door begins to slide back down once again. Cutting off the sun. Leaving us in the cool, dark shadows. Sealing us in.

I feel my fur bristle in fright. What’s wrong? I wonder. I sense that something is wrong. I don’t know why Dad is taking so long to stop the car engine.

I decide to try and get high enough to see inside the car, climbing up to the top stair. I hear a whirring noise as the windows of the car slide down. I can see Dad. But he is not making a motion to turn off or get out of the car. He leans his head back against the seat and closes his eyes.

I sneeze as the air grows dense with the smell of chemicals. I don’t feel very well.

This is not a good time for Dad to rest.

Wake up!

I now hear Gretel inside the house, scratching at the door. I believe she is trying to push open the door to the garage. She whines desperately, and suddenly I realize something truly is very wrong. What in the world is going on?

Perhaps Dad is very, very tired and cannot move. Or maybe he is ill and needs attention. The fumes in the garage will certainly make us both sick, if he is not sick already.

Dad!

It is no use. The temperature in the garage rises with the loud grinding of the engine. I realize I’m going to have to get Dad’s attention. Maybe I can jump onto the car and walk on the windshield. From there I could meow! until he sees me.

I feel lightheaded. Perhaps this is a mistake. I might hurt myself. But Dad needs to wake up. Now. My ears can’t take the noise any longer.

From my step, I take a leap toward the hood of the car. It is a long jump. Because I am so heavy, I land with a wham! on the metal, like a sack of cat food.

I thought I would land lightly on my paws. This is a little embarrassing.

But the good news is, Dad’s eyes click open in surprise. It reminds me of a doll Victoria had when she was younger. The eyelids of the doll lifted when it was moved upright. But the eyes were glassy and you knew they couldn’t see a thing. It was scary and unnatural.

This is the first thing that comes to mind when Dad opens his eyes.

Dad and I make eye contact. At first, I’m not sure he recognizes me, although he’s looking at me.

Wake up!

He only hesitates a moment before stirring. He reaches forward in his seat and, thank goodness, he turns off the car engine. After he presses a button above him, the garage doors start to glide open, and—just in the nick of time—sunshine and fresh air come pouring in.

I stand frozen, on the car hood. Clumsily, I stagger to the edge of the car and jump with a plop down to the cement floor.

I hear the car’s driver-side door open and shut. Dad comes over to stand next to me and lets me sniff his hand. I feel weak. He looks confused. “Lily? How’d you get in here?”

I let Dad lift me up with two strong hands and place me on his shoulder, the same way Charlie carries me. He holds me there, stroking my head and back, whispering apologies into my ear. I feel him slip one hand under my stomach with just the right amount of pressure, so that I’m comfortable and secure. His body slowly warms up and shakes gently.

Poor Dad. He needs help.

When I lift my head to look up at him, I see his eyes are just barely holding tears back. I don’t understand what’s wrong with Dad. Why he seems so sad, distracted, and lost.

What’s wrong? I start to purr.

“I didn’t know you were here,” he tells me. “I’m sorry, Lily. I miss you, girl. I would never hurt you.”

I purr louder to show him: no harm done. It’s the best I can do, to be still and let him hold me.

“I won’t do that again,” he tells me. “I promise. I’m just really tired and my tummy hurts. I miss everyone. I don’t know what I was thinking. That’s not what I really want.” He breathes in and out, a long sigh.

Dad finally puts me down, and I stretch. Gretel is still begging and clawing at the door. Dad lifts his head, as if just hearing it for the first time. He hurries over to open the door, to reassure and talk to her, to calm her down.

It is so strange. Dad’s behavior has grown odd. He is worse than distracted—he is not paying attention at all.

I follow Dad inside, where the house is otherwise empty. He walks to the living room at the front of the house and lies right down on the rug to stare at the ceiling. This is strange behavior for Dad, but I understand he is very tired. Gretel lies on one side of him, and I lie on the other, tucked under his arm. It feels warm and wonderful. I hope we are comforting to him.

I think Gretel and I make a good team! I am starting to see that our goals are the same: to help this family. And we are stronger when we work together.

I wonder what Dad would do if he found out that Kevin is bullying Charlie. Dad is probably the perfect person to discipline bad behavior, because that is what he does at work. It would give Dad a purpose—a mission, of sorts—to correct Kevin when he does wrong.

In the meantime, I am glad I got Dad to wake up. The children would find it curious to come home and find Dad asleep in the garage. Gretel and I are going to have to keep a closer eye on Dad, every minute he is here. I start to think that it might be a good idea if Gretel went to live with Dad. He needs protection as much as anyone—perhaps even from himself. I would miss Gretel terribly, but sometimes we must make sacrifices for the good of the family.

I soon find out that Gretel agrees with me on this point.