Spaces in between (Stockholm Syndrome: Extended chapters)

August 2020

~Felix~

"If I ever want a pet, shoot me!"

Tears were streaming down Archer face uninterrupted. His hands were thrown wildly around. I crushed my chest against his and my arms went around his back.

"I'm sorry", I whispered in my husband's hair, kissing it.

He pushed out of the hug.

"I'm being dramatic, aren't I? I didn't even know him all that much", he said.

"You loved him anyway"

"I feel like such a failure! If I can't handle a kitten how will I handle kids?" he said.

"Pancakes..." I said and he cut in.

"He barely survived a month!"

I put my hands on his arms in an effort to restrain him.

"Pancakes listen to me. Green eyes was already sick! There was nothing you could have done to save him"

"I could have..." he said desperately.

"You could have done nothing. We did everything right. He was already sick!"

"Maybe if I spotted the paralyzed pupils..."

"Baby, he had Feline infectious peritonitis, an incurable disease! A few hours didn't make a difference", I tried explaining. I knew Archer didn't want rational, but I gave it to him anyway.

"I don't want a pet ever again. I don't want kids!" he said storming off into our bedroom.

I sighed. I was reluctant about Green eyes when he first came into our lives. He was a stray cat and I generally wasn't a fan of cats. On the day Archer brought him home, I realized his eyes weren't reacting to light. They were permanently dilated, even after the camera flash went off several times, and the room was bright already. He didn't seem to be seeing anything at all.

Archer asked to hold off looking for the owner in case they turned out to be "uncaring" and we took Green eyes to the vet. The worst was confirmed. He was sick with one of the worst diseases a cat could have. It was fatal and treatment was only palliative.

We watched him deteriorate. He had no appetite and lost his vision completely. We got some medicine to slow down the progression, but his low-immunity made the disease progress faster. 3 weeks later he was dead.

It hit Archer hard.

After he left I stood in the middle of the living area, wondering what to do. His last words echoed in my head.

"I don't want kids!"

He'd never experienced loss before. Everyone he'd ever loved was still alive. Losing something he loved so soon was making him irrational and fearful. It was perfectly natural. He didn't want to feel like he was feeling at that moment ever again. I could tell him he was being irrational or I could leave him alone.

I could also just lie next to him and say nothing. I was practical and rational; it was hard listening to him make irrational decisions and beat himself up over something that wasn't his fault. I had to override my instincts, let go and let him figure things out on his own, especially at that moment. Everything was still fresh.