Chapter Twenty

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I reclaim my old desk in Mrs. Fitzpatrick's classroom, cross my arms, and put my feet up as if lounging on a recliner. She isn't my teacher anymore. What is she going to do? Give me detention?

"I want to talk to you," she begins, "about Ada's cats."

Well, I was not expecting that.

"Her... her cats?" I repeat in disbelief.

"Fergus and Velma," she says. "You must remember them."

I nod my head. "Of course I remember them. I just figured you would have sent them to the slaughterhouse by now. Isn't that your automatic response when something becomes too difficult for you? You send it away?"

She lets out an exasperated sigh. I've hit a nerve.

Good.

"Listen," she goes on, "we've tried to take care of them so they would be there for Ada when she came home, but... since that's obviously not happening, I'd rather not trouble myself any further."

I almost feel bad for her. Almost. "I'm guessing you want to get rid of the cats?"

"Yes."

"What do you expect me to do, Mrs. Fitzpatrick?"

"Well, Velma ran away. We haven't seen her in weeks. I want to find a good home for Fergus, though. Would you be interested, by chance?"

I shake my head. I would love to take in Ada's furry friend, but I could never subject an innocent animal to Hank's abuse. "Sorry, I can't. I'll ask around, though."

"Thank you." She moves her lips in what I assume is her version of a smile before turning around and writing her lesson plan on the chalkboard.

I get up to leave, but she calls out my name. I turn around, readying myself for whatever she has to say next.

"I didn't send my daughter away because she was an inconvenience," she informs me, her tone somber. "I did it to help her, to cure her. I never... I never wanted this."

"I know that," I reply, feeling another twinge of sympathy, "but that doesn't change the fact that she's dead, Mrs. Fitzpatrick."

First Jessica, now Ada's Mom. I'm on a roll today. I've already verbally assaulted two people, and it's only noon.

Maybe Damian's right. Maybe I am a bitch.

<><><><><><>

Since my conversation with Mrs. Fitzpatrick, I've talked to everyone I know about adopting Fergus. I even hung signs up at Gabby's. So far, no one has been able to help me.

"I would love to take in your friend's cat, but my aunty has a thing about pet hair. She'd go ballistic if I brought the poor thing home," Jose explained. "I'm sorry, princesa."

"Mom is allergic to cats," was all Damian said. He's still a little miffed that I was less than polite to his future bride.

I'm beginning to lose hope. I don't know what will happen to Fergus if the Fitzpatricks can't find him a new home. I fear he might conveniently "run away" like Velma did.

As I wipe down tables at the diner, feeling more disheartened by the second, Gabby approaches me. I expect her to give me a cleaning task—nobody mops the backroom as well as I do, according to her—but she holds up one of my "Fergus the Cat Needs a Home" posters.

"I'm so sorry. I should have asked before hanging those up," I blurt out. As much as I want to help the four-legged creature, he isn't worth losing my job over.

"Relax," she says. "I was coming over here to say that Haven's aunt is a veterinarian. She runs a clinic in town. She might be able to help find your friend's cat a new home. Mind if I give her a call?"

"That would be wonderful, Gabby." It takes all my self-control not to reach out and hug her. "Thank you so much."

"Of course, sweetheart." She offers a warm smile. "And I know I should have said this a while ago, but I'm truly sorry about what happened to Ada. Haven had a few classes with her last year and told me she was a nice girl."

"She was nice," I agree. "I'll always miss her."

"If you ever need someone to talk to, I'm here. You know that, right?" Gabby asks, resting her hand on my shoulder.

I nod my head. "I know, and I really appreciate it. Thanks for everything."

I finish wiping the tables. There aren't any customers, so I busy myself by sweeping and mopping the floors. By the time ten o'clock rolls around, the tile is sparkling beneath my feet.

"Bye, Gabby!" I call out as I grab my sweater.

"Do you need a ride?" Her blonde head appears from behind the counter. "I'm about to head out myself."

"My boyfriend's coming to get me, but thank you," I reply. She doesn't know I live in a trailer park. I'd rather keep it that way.

I walk home, wrapping my arms around myself for warmth. January in Michigan is always freezing. I ought to take some of the money I've made and invest in a winter jacket. It isn't like Hank will buy me one.

When I reach the rundown mobile home, I see a dark shape sitting by the door. At first, I suspect it's a raccoon—they often lurk around at night in search of trash to feed on—but instead of a fluffy, striped tail, I see a long, slender one. I inch closer, expecting the creature to run away, but it doesn't move. It stares at me with piercing green eyes.

Upon closer inspection, I realize that it's a cat.

And this cat is Ada's runaway pet, Velma.

"You're still alive," I whisper, crouching down to scratch the soft spot behind her ears. "I thought Tara chopped you to bits."

She lets out a raspy purr and flicks her tail back and forth. I notice that she's thinner than she was while in Ada's care but not malnourished. She's obviously been able to fend for herself.

"Feel free to stick around," I say to feline, mentally reminding myself to pick up some cat treats from the corner store across from Gabby's.

I may not be able to welcome her into my house, but that doesn't mean I can't look after her.

A/N:
I wanted Layla to have a little piece of Ada. And honestly, who doesn't love cats? 😻

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