Chapter 1
Mario sets down a box filled with women’s clothing on his bedroom floor. He puts one hand on his hip and the other on his chin. His striped tail sways. Did he finally finish? He looks around for any possible hiding spots in his room. With one glance at his dresser, he looks again. He rummages through his clothes, lifting them up and moving them to the side to check. Perhaps she left a few pairs of underwear, socks, and bras. Yet he finds nothing.
“Hmm...” Mario says, “I guess that’s everything.”
When he takes his hand away from underneath his clothes, his fingers glide against something glossy and smooth. He returns his attention to the drawer. What was that? He lifts his clothes, and a single photo drops inside the drawer. He picks it up. In the photo, a beautiful Serval cat is giving him a kiss on the cheek. His finger smooths across her face and to the edge of the photo.
His brows crinkle together. His chest aches. He told her he didn’t want children yet. Everything was fine until he said that. However, he had only spoken the truth. And the truth was what she needed to hear, not some lie.
Mario closes his drawer, still holding the photo in his hand. He slides the photo into the back pocket of his jeans. He continues checking for any more garments in his dresser drawers, but there’s nothing left. After closing the last drawer, he crosses his arms and looks at the box.
“Okay, that should be good.”
His ears move back, and his brows furrow. Seeing her clothes tore through his heart. He could smell her scented perfume just by standing over the box—a light, decadent vanilla aroma. His cheeks turn pink, and the image of Lydia settles into his mind.
Mario lets out a heavy sigh, and his arms fall by his sides. He rubs the back of his neck and looks away from the box. He returns his gaze to it. A smile emerges. He puts on his short-sleeved pullover, which is hanging on the edge of his room door, grabs his car keys from his nightstand, and picks up the box, holding it firmly beneath his arm. Then he heads for the front door of his apartment.
But he stops himself as he places his hand on the knob. He groans, and his pointed ears rotate back against his head. Mario lets go of the knob.
“Don’t do it, Mario. You’d only make a fool of yourself by going to her. I don’t have to see her. She’ll come to get them, right? I don’t have to see her. There’s no reason to.” Mario narrows his brows, “So don’t do it.”
Mario puts the box down and pushes it near the front door and against the wall. He nods, staring at the box, and walks toward his room. He stops and looks at the box a few seconds later.
His brows squish together. The thought of Lydia being with someone else frightens him. What if she’s moved on without him already? He was curious, yet his feet wouldn’t move. He glances down at the floor. She could also miss him right now. It’s possible she’s all by herself and struggling to move on. He wonders if she still loves him.
Again, he looks at the box, and this time he goes to pick it up. He sighs and grabs the doorknob.
“I’ll just be quick about it.”
He walks out the door.
While driving, Mario glances at the box twice. He inhales and exhales. Then he grips the steering wheel tighter.
“You’ve got this, you’ve got this. I’m just visiting to give her clothes back. That’s all this is. Nothing more.”
He arrives at her house, parking his red sedan by the curb. When the car’s engine stops humming, Mario unbuckles himself. He grabs his keys from the middle compartment next to him. Then Mario looks at Lydia’s house. His heart flutters, and a smile forms on his face.
But once he looks at the box in the passenger seat, he becomes stiff, and his ears revolve back. He grasps the box and rests it on his lap. Her perfume whiffs up into his nostrils. Mario glances back at Lydia’s home, his brows furrowing. He puts his hand on the car door handle. He breathes in, then breathes out.
“You can do this, you can do this, Mario.”
As he exits the vehicle, he reaches for the box and opens the door. The door swings back into place after he gives it a gentle push. Then he tucks the box under his arm and keeps it by his side. Straight down the paved path, Mario walks up the three steps to her front porch. The porch rocking bench catches his eye. He can see himself sitting there, enjoying himself, with Lydia’s head on his shoulder. He averts his gaze, trying to get the thought out of his head.
He rings her doorbell, but nobody answers. He tries it again. Still nothing. Maybe she wasn’t there? Sighing, he laughs.
“Jeez, I was worried about nothing... She’s not even here.”
As he turns, the door opens behind him. He turns to face the door, his ears perking up. And there she was.
“Oh, Mario,” Lydia says, “it’s you.”
“Yeah. Uh... I came by to give you your clothes and...”
His eyes go downward. She was wearing a pink spaghetti-strap top with shorts coming down to her mid-thighs. He blushes, then quickly hands her the box.
“Here,” he says, looking away as she takes it, “Sorry if I came by at a bad time.”
“No, don’t be ridiculous! Thank you for doing so. It saves me gas.”
She laughs, and Mario smiles. He stuffs his hands into his pullover pouch as she places the box inside, beside the door.
“I didn’t leave my shampoo or my toothbrush there, right? I’ve been looking around, and I can’t find them.”
“No, but maybe I didn’t think about looking for it. You could come by and see if it’s there. I’ll drive you.”
“Oh, um, no, it’s fine. I’ll buy new ones.”
“You sure? It’ll save you time and money.”
“No, it’s okay. I needed a new toothbrush anyway. Plus, that shampoo is probably down to the bottom now, you know?”
“Oh...” Mario clears his throat. “Alright then.”
Instead of looking at her, Mario looks at the pots of plants on the porch and the wind chime hanging from the ceiling. Lydia fidgets with her fingers by her legs and avoids making eye contact. Her large, tall, round ears swivel back.
“So... how are you these days?” Mario says.
“Good,” Lydia says, looking away, “good... Just taking it day by day, you know?”
Mario smiles, “Okay, okay, cool.”
“Yeah...”
As his grin fades, Mario glances elsewhere. He rubs the back of his head.
“Mario, um... Thanks again, but I have to go now.” Lydia closes the door. “I guess I’ll see you around—”
Mario holds it open, “Lydia, wait.”
“What is it? I can’t be long out here. I have to go back to what I was doing.”
“Okay, but... I just... I wanted to talk to you. Could I come inside?”
“Mario—”
“I won’t be a bother for too long, I swear. Please?”
“Mario,” she glances back, “now’s not a good time, alright?”
“Oh... Well, did I leave anything here? Maybe I could—”
“Mario, stop. I know what you’re trying to do. There’s nothing here for you, okay? I... I don’t want to talk about anything. I’ve moved on, Mario.”
Mario’s brows knit together in confusion.
“He’s here, in the house.”
Mario is speechless. After three months, she’s dating someone else? It smells like a lie—a lie to get him to leave. He wasn’t going to fall for it.
“I don’t believe you,” Mario says.
“What?”
“You’re lying to me.”
“No, I’m telling you the truth.”
“Lydia, how could you possibly have moved on in three months?”
“I’m not lying.”
“Lydia, come on now—”
“You need to go, I’m done talking about this.”
Lydia tries to close the door, but Mario holds it open again.
“Mario!”
“Lydia... I still love you. I... I miss you.”
Lydia blinks, jerking her head back slightly.
“I can’t even find it in myself to play my guitar anymore, not without you.”
Lydia stares into his eyes, almost about to get lost in them. He smiles. Lydia snaps out of her trance, darting her eyes at the ground and clearing her throat.
She steps back, “Mario—”
“I need you, Lydia. Please, can we just... talk?”
Lydia wrinkles her brows and sighs.
“It’s already too late for that, Mario.”
“No, it’s never too late. We’ll work it—”
Right behind Lydia, a tall and muscular panther comes by her side. Mario looks up, his ears pulling back. He’s only wearing his pants, and his chest is bare. He holds Lydia close to him, his hand on her waist.
“Who’s this, Lydia?” the panther says, “Friend of yours?”
Mario glances at Lydia, but she avoids his gaze.
“No, just an acquaintance.”
Mario’s eyes broaden, and his mouth gapes open.
“Lydia...”
“I was just telling him to leave, but he wouldn’t listen.”
The panther raises a brow, “Is that so?”
Mario glares at him.
“Fine, I’ll leave,” Mario says, “Sorry I interrupted you. I’ll see you around, Lydia.”
Mario turns around and heads to his car. He gets in, buckles himself up, and presses the ignition button. As soon as the car fires up its engine, Mario races down the road.
While driving and hunching over, he grips the steering wheel tight, driving over the speed limit and passing cars any chance he can get. He ignores any honking from them. When he gets to a stoplight, he stops the car almost too abruptly, going over the white line.
His ears twist back as his nails pierce into the steering wheel, and his arms tense up. He taps his finger on the wheel and grips it even tighter, uttering a low growl.
“I should’ve never gone over there,” Mario says, then hits the steering wheel. “I should’ve fucking stayed home!”
He sighs as he watches traffic weave in front of him from one side of the road to the other. He reclines in his seat. His ears rise, and his eyes widen. Then he reaches for something underneath him. It was the same photo of Lydia and him from earlier.
He stares at it, gazing at Lydia kissing him on the cheek. Mario’s brows knit together. Without Lydia, what was he supposed to do now? Who will sleep by his side every night? Who will make him smile and laugh the way she did?
The stop light turns green, and cars pass him or honk at him. Then his brows narrow downward, and he tears the picture into four pieces. He tosses the pieces over his shoulder, and they fall onto the carpeted floor.
He grips the steering wheel, puncturing the leather with his nails. Then he races down the road, his car revving as he presses on the gas pedal.
Kianna’s ear flickers to the ticking of the living room clock. She clutches onto the black plush blanket over her. Her knees come closer to her chest, and she curls her toes. The sofa hisses out air from between the cushions as she readjusts her body. The rosettes on her tail are visible as it dangles to the floor from under the massive blanket.
Surely, it’s 8 o’clock by now, but Freddie is still getting dressed in her room. She didn’t want him to come out, though. She wouldn’t mind if he stayed in there all night. But that’s obviously not going to happen. The bowling alley is open until 10 o’clock on weeknights. What are the chances of him canceling when it’s only a 15-minute drive from her house?
Any second now, he’ll come out, and when he does, she’ll have to explain herself for not getting ready. By the time he got out of the shower, she was hoping to have a convincing answer to tell him, but her mind was still blank.
Knowing Freddie, he would probably make fun of her reasons for staying in, turning them into a joke or a tease. Then expect her to get dressed anyway. Kianna sighs softly underneath the blanket.
She didn’t want to go, and she didn’t want to move. The memories of the funeral three weeks earlier kept resurfacing in her mind. Her mind keeps replaying the moment she saw her little sister’s body in the open coffin. She can still feel the ringing in her ears from the choir’s soaring vocals. If only Kianna could go back in time, she would hug her mother while she was sobbing hysterically. She’d save her sister.
Kianna’s ears rotate back, and she squeezes her eyes shut. She covers her head with the blanket. What Kianna did was inexcusable. There was no way she could ever forgive herself. Never. She’s a sinner now, so no amount of church attendance or prayer will ever change that. The afterlife has no room for reckless murderers anyway.
Her ears go up, and she opens her eyes. As she sits up, Kianna takes the blanket off of her and looks up at the stairs. A doorknob clicks. She hears heavy and slow thumps hitting the carpet, going down the hall, and coming down the steps. Kianna furrows her eyebrows, then brings her knees close together, hugging them with her arms.
“Okay, Kia,” Freddie says, “You ready to—?”
Freddie stops by the sofa.
“Hey, what’s going on? You’re still in your PJs?”
Kianna looks away from him.
“Kia,” Fred says, chuckling, “come on, you know the bowling alley won’t be open forever. Get dressed.”
Kianna doesn’t answer him.
“Kia? Are you listening to me?”
Kianna deeply sighs.
“I’m not going, Freddie,” Kia says.
“What? What do you mean?”
“I’ve made up my mind. I...” Kianna grips her knees tighter, “I don’t want to go, Freddie.”
Freddie rolls his eyes, “Can you at least specify why?”
“Well... Ever since the funeral—”
“You can’t be serious, this is about your sister? Really?”
Kianna looks at him, “Yes.”
“Kia, you realize you’re blaming yourself for nothing, right?”
“It’s not for nothing!”
“Kianna, it is.”
“How could you say that? What, do you think she jumped into the pool and drowned on purpose? I was supposed to watch her!”
Fred sighs as he rubs his forehead.
“I don’t want to go out tonight, I mean it, Freddie.”
“Alright, but for the record, you’re not doing yourself any favors by being here. All you’re going to do is cry yourself to sleep. Why would you want to do that?”
With her chin resting on her knees, Kianna looks away. Why doesn’t he leave? If her reasoning wasn’t making any sense, then why would he stick around to hear it? Still, why doesn’t he stay with her? There was more room on the sofa. Would it kill him to sit next to her there? At the very least, he could hold her close underneath the blanket.
“Freddie,” Kia says, then glances at him, “stay with me.”
Freddie sighs, “Well, I should’ve seen that coming.”
“Please, Freddie, I need you to be here with me.”
“Okay, and then what?” Fred put his hands on his hips. “Are we going to do the same thing every time we make a plan to go out?”
“If it means I’m not ready to go out, then yes.”
Fred tapers his brows, grimacing. His hand rests on his hip. Then he turns his head and uses the other hand to rub his temples. He groans.
“Freddie—”
“Alright, you know what? I’m done.”
Fred grabs his phone from the end table by the front door. He shoves it inside his pants pocket. Then he goes to the hook by the door to get his car keys.
“Done? Where are you going?” Kia says.
“I can’t take this anymore, Kia. You don’t want help, and you don’t want me to help you, either. I tried.”
“Freddie—”
“I’ve done what I could, Kia. It’s up to you to get out of this depressive hole you’re in. Or stay there, I don’t know. I don’t care anymore.”
Freddie lays his hand on the doorknob.
“Wait, Freddie!” Kia says.
Kianna rushes over to him, grabbing onto his arm.
“Please, don’t leave.”
Freddie sighs, “Kianna—”
“Stay with me, I need you. If you’re gone too, then...” Kia glances at the floor, her eyes watering. “Then I... I don’t know who else to talk to.”
Freddie wrinkles his brows together, gazing down at her. His bushy scarlet tail lowers, and his black-tipped, pointed ears pull back. Then his brows narrow, and he turns away. With his eyes closing and his head cocking upward, he lets out a soft sigh.
“Kianna, if I stay,” Fred says, looking at her with a stern stare, “will you promise me you won’t do this again?”
Kia lets go of him, “What? Is that all you care about? You think I want to—?”
Fred rolls his eyes, groaning, “Kia, just answer the question.”
Kianna blinks blankly and moves back, thrown off by his behavior. She swallows. At first, she glares at him, almost about to speak. But then, Kia does nothing. Her brow raises, and the other narrows. She darts her eyes to the floor.
“You don’t have an answer, do you?” Fred says.
“Freddie, I...” Kia tilts her head up to him. “I can’t promise that, even if I tried.”
Fred sighs heavily, “Figures. If you don’t want to try, then what do you want to do?”
Kianna turns her ears back. She looks down at the ground while holding his hand.
“Freddie...” Kianna holds his other hand. Her fingers glide across his palms. “Just stay with me, please. I don’t know what to do anymore. No matter how hard I try, I just can’t smile or laugh like I used to. I’m—” Kianna pauses. “I’m lost, Freddie.”
Fred removes his hands from hers and clasps them together. Kia looks up at him. Fred’s brows furrow, and he avoids her gaze.
“I can’t, Kia,” Freddie says, “It’s over, alright?”
Kia’s eyes broaden. He doesn’t say another word. The ticking of the clock behind her and the crickets from outside the house are all she hears. He lets go of her hands, and they go back beside her body. Kianna holds her arms, her elbows pressing against her sides. Her throat becomes tight, and water pools around the rim of her eyes again. She glances down at the floor.
“It’s because of me, isn’t it?” Kia says, “I made us like this, and now you don’t love me anymore. Right?”
Freddie’s mouth gapes, but he doesn’t mutter a sound. He looks away quickly and rubs his neck. A tear streams down her cheek, and she wipes it away before it reaches her chin. She sniffles.
“Kianna, you’ve changed since Amali passed away.” Freddie says, “What am I supposed to do when you don’t even want to do anything with me? When I talk to you, it’s always about your sister or yourself. I don’t know what you want me to say. You’re grieving, yes, I understand that, but I can’t—” Fred sighs sharply. “I want the old Kianna back. I want the woman I fell in love with.”
Kia wipes her eyes.
Her voice breaks, “So... it is me?”
“Kia—” Fred pauses and quickly sighs again. “I can’t do this anymore if you’re going to keep dragging me down with you. There’s only so much I can take.”
Kianna shakes her head, pinching her lips together. She sniffles. Kia bites the bottom of her lip as it trembles. She takes a shuddering, deep breath in, then covers her eyes with her hand, looking down.
“Kia, come on, don’t do this,” Freddie says.
Kianna sniffles, “Just leave, Freddie.”
Fred comes closer, “Kia—”
Kianna pushes him back, “Go! Get out of my house!”
Fred’s mouth opens, and his brows arch. Then he raises his chin, backing away from her. He unlocks the front door with a twist of the knob. Freddie steps out, closing the door behind him. Kianna hurries to lock it and returns to the sofa.
She grabs the black blanket, falling onto the cushions. It drops over her, and Kia brings her knees up to her chest. Kianna’s brows furrow, and she cries in silence. She hiccups between her trembling breaths.
