"The best therapist has fur and four legs." - Unknown
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"How's school been going for you the last couple of weeks, dear?"
Lacey and Alice were on their hands and knees, scrubbing out kennels. This could be a filthy job, depending on what sort of cat had previously occupied the quarters. Both of them had considered themselves lucky, however, to have adopted two cats out the same week, which was a rarity, so Lacey would happily do this any time.
It was the first chance she and Alice had to talk in the week and a half since school had started, and Lacey knew the question was coming. All adults seemed to feel obligated to ask this.
She sighed and sat back on her heels, wiping her sweaty forehead with the back of her gloved hand. "Oh, it's...you know, school."
"But senior year! Do you have any dances planned? When are they taking pictures? Oh, and isn't hockey season starting soon for Max?"
Alice continued to scrub as she peppered on the questions. Lacey felt a little guilty that this woman who was nearly three times her age could work circles around her, but she absolutely had to take a break for a few minutes.
"Um... I honestly don't know. To both of the first questions. And as far as Max's hockey season, yeah, I guess it is."
"It won't take us long to finish this, you know," Alice's voice echoed from the back of the kennel she was leaning into. "Or is it something else that's got you so blue?"
Lacey sat and thought for a moment. What was it, exactly? "Oh, I mean, I'm not blue really, just...," she struggled to find words to express what she'd been feeling latel--what she'd felt at the Eden Hall party, on the first day of school, and each and every time Max came over.
Bored.
The word surfaced again for the third or fourth time that very day. But how could she voice it? No one would understand. She didn't even understand.
"I think I'm just tired," Lacey finally finished.
"Oh?" Alice crawled back out of the kennel and dropped her soapy sponge back into the water. "Am I working you too hard? You know, if you need me to reduce your hours, I'm happy to. It's not that I don't need you around here, of course," she added quickly, pulling off her gloves. "But you should enjoy this fall. It's your last year of high school, and one day you'll look back on this time and wonder if life will ever be like this again."
God I hope not.
"No no, I'm not working too much. Trust me. Sometimes I think this place is the only thing keeping me sane," Lacey smiled ruefully, hoping the older woman wouldn't ask her too many more questions.
But Alice paused. Not a good sign.
"Lacey, tell me. What would make you happy?"
Taking a cue that they were finished, Lacey began to pull off her own gloves. "I'm sorry?"
"It's just that you don't seem terribly excited about anything, really," Alice tilted her head. "And you're far too young to be so unstimulated."
Lacey didn't know what to say to this, so she just shook her head. "Really, it's not anything like that, Alice. I just have a whole lot to do and think about. Like you said, senior year..." She stood up and held a hand down to help Alice up behind her.
"I can still do that myself, thank you very much." Alice pushed herself up after grunting a couple times. "I have an assignment for you."
"Oh, not another one," Lacey giggled. Her last assignment from Alice had been to yell less at Ariel. When was she going to learn not to air her grievances aloud at Cat's Cradle?
"Absolutely, another one." Alice took her bucket and motioned with her head for Lacey to follow her. Lacey hefted her own five-gallon bucket full of dirty water, and hauled it awkwardly down the hall toward the rear exit.
"Find something new this week you've always wanted to learn about or try, and do it. Let's see if we can light a fire in you somewhere." Alice pushed the door open with her back, and they both dumped their water buckets out into the alley.
Lacey had to work not to roll her eyes. Alice always had the most simplistic ways of looking at things. As if knitting a sweater or learning to tap dance could fill the emptiness in her chest.
But she would humor her sweet old supervisor. "Okay, I can do that," Lacey replied. "Only, can I please have longer than a week?"
"A month, then. I'm generous. By the middle of October, I expect a full report. Now let's turn these buckets over to let them dry."
A few minutes later, Lacey just had time to pull her apron off over her head, give her daily goodbyes to each cat in turn, and grab her backpack before Stuart pulled up outside in his station wagon. It was sweet of him to be so faithful to pick her up on the nights she couldn't have her mom's car, but getting her own vehicle couldn't happen soon enough.
Halen was rolling down the crank window in the back seat. "Hurry up, Pet Shop Boys is on the radio! Dad's singing!"
Sure enough, Lacey opened the passenger side door to hear the synth-pop notes of the British band being covered by Stuart's loud, out-of-tune rendition.
"Since you went away, I've been hanging around. I've been wondering why I'm feeling down," he crooned into a tree-shaped air freshener as she jumped into the seat next to him, grinning in spite of herself.
"I'm sure I don't need to tell you 'don't quit your day job.' You like terrible music, Stuart."
"Fer shame!" he popped out the cassette. "Tell me about yer day, was it good?"
Lacey thought back over the day and realized there wasn't necessarily anything bad about it, so why shouldn't it be considered good?
"It was fine."
"'Fine,' she says. Teenagers an' 'fine,'" he bemoaned.
Lacey glanced into the backseat to check on her half sisters, and was reminded at once of how different they were. Halen was content to listen to Stuart's music and look out the window, taking in all the good things life has to offer, while Ariel sat hunkered down in her seat, listening to her portable CD player. She hadn't, once, even looked up at Lacey since she got into the car.
Halen was yin, Ariel was yang. Halen sun, Ariel moon. It hadn't helped Ariel's moodiness, of course, that she was apparently coming into puberty a little quicker than Halen was, and therefore, sulked more and chatted less. Her sister had always been a tomboy, but the waters had been muddied slightly by the process of growing up. The irony hadn't escaped Lacey that the sweetest and easiest of the twins was named Halen, yet the moody, and at times obnoxious, Ariel shared a name with a Disney princess. It felt like it should have been reversed.
Turning back around and bringing her mind to the present, and the things Alice had said, Lacey was grateful for the older woman's influence. And despite her chagrin at times, she appreciated Alice's investment in her life and the advice to Lacey to pursue new, exciting experiences.
But, what on earth could that be? She was dating a star hockey player, made decent grades, felt pretty most of the time thanks to her tireless efforts, and had a good job and family. What else was there?
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The next day, Lacey tossed her bag into the allotted place at Cat's Cradle, and went in search of Alice to plan out the afternoon's activities. She hoped it could be a spontaneous playday, when all the kittens are let out of their kennels and socialized, their toys spread out in the lobby for them to play with and carry around, in between doing acrobatics with one another. Lacey had a theory that playdays might also appeal to passersby who would be stopped in their tracks by the sight of a room full of playful kittens, and decide a cat is just what they need; thus would launch an adoption visit.
But before Lacey could find her cheerful supervisor and offer to conduct a kitten playday, she ran into Hilda, who never failed to set her teeth on edge.
Hilda wasn't as old as Alice in years, but Lacey was sure she had been born an old lady. She was one of their most reliable volunteers, yet she was not friendly by any means, and did little more behind the reception desk than work on her cross-stitch...and occasionally answer the phone, though Lacey always tried to grab it first. Hilda made a notoriously terrible first impression, and Lacey, frankly, wondered why Alice had put up with her for so long.
"Hilda needs us," Alice once reminded Lacey after she had huffed her way into her supervisor's office, angry at the way Hilda commanded her to go check litter boxes, as though it was her place, as a volunteer, to tell Lacey what to do. "Her husband died last year, and since then, this place is all she has. She's just sad, and a little angry. Let's keep trying to be kind to her, and maybe it will turn her attitude around."
Lacey could only hope to be half the woman Alice is when she grew older.
Heading back to the kennels, Lacey went to greet her favorite little charge first. A dainty-looking, long-limbed yellow cat -- small for two years old -- began to stir, rousting from her nap, as Lacey came near. In just a few seconds, the cat was on her feet, nuzzling Lacey's hand for attention.
"Hello, sweet girl," Lacey cooed. "Have we found a forever home for you, yet?"
"Not yet, I'm afraid," Alice sighed, coming in with a bag of dry cat food. "Everyone always wants the kittens."
"But she almost looks like a kitten," Lacey protested. "And she's so affectionate and easygoing."
"Well, do remember, dear, cats go less quickly than dogs do. Dogs are usually what's preferred. People don't often recognize the virtues of cats."
"No, they don't." Lacey took Stella out of the kennel and cradled her like a baby, as she was one of the few cats who would let her do this. "I'd still give anything if I could have one of my own."
At that moment, the tinkling of the front door bell sounded. Hilda greeted the visitor, who had apparently entered, with her brusque manner. "Can I help you?"
Alice moved on to the next kennel, replacing food and water for pompous and wiley Sir George, while Lacey continued to nestle the purring Stella. "Someone will come for you soon," she whispered, giving the cat's forehead a quick kiss.
That's when Lacey heard a tiny chorus of mews coming from the lobby.
"So you're dropping off?" she heard Hilda's low, no-nonsense voice.
"Guess so," Lacey heard a familiar young man's voice answer. "We--well, I--found these while I was checking on one of our vacated rental properties this afternoon. They were lying in a box, just left behind by the family, so..."
She heard Hilda huff. "The things people do. Did they seem in distress? When were they last fed, do you know any of that?"
"...Not really," she heard him reply. "My dad usually says to call the pound when this happens, but they're just kittens, and I thought maybe a shelter might be better..."
Unable to help herself, Lacey carried Stella with her and went up front to take a look at the new kittens. But before she was able to see inside the box, she came face-to-face with none other than Adam Banks.
Of course. His dad did own rental properties on this side of town. She would know because she lived in one.
Adam lifted his eyes to meet hers, and he froze. Lacey was pretty sure this was due to her being the bearer of his big pill secret, so she averted her eyes and looked toward the cardboard box.
Hilda sighed. "I see you didn't put a blanket or towel in here for them."
Adam shifted and opened his mouth to say something, but Hilda waved him off.
"Nevermind, you brought them here at least. I wonder how long it's been since they've eaten."
Lacey looked over Hilda's shoulder and saw two of the most beautiful calico kittens she'd ever seen. One was long-haired, the other medium-haired. They were walking shakily around the box, mewing, no doubt, in protest at being unable to find their mother.
"I...don't know. I'm not sure if the tenants took the mom, or what." Adam looked awkward, but concerned, as he peered into the box again.
"Alright, well...," Hilda clucked her tongue. "Lacey, will you get bottles ready? These little ones need full bellies."
Lacey glanced at Adam once more before going to the refrigerator in the break room and taking out the kitten formula, warming it in the microwave slightly before ensuring there were no hotspots, and bringing the bottles back out. She was surprised to see that Adam was still standing there, watching the kittens.
Alice came around the corner just then. "Hilda, Tippy didn't quite make it to the litter box again, and I've got to feed Rainbow. Can you help me out?"
Hilda took one of the bottles, and pushed it toward Adam. "While you're here, might as well make use of yourself. Here, feed one of them." And with that, she bustled away.
Adam blinked, looking at the bottle for a minute.
Lacey figured this meant she was to feed the other kitten, so she set Stella down on the counter and took the shorter-haired kitten who had more black in her than did the other, predominantly orange, one. "You take that one," she instructed Adam. He did so without complaining, and Lacey was surprised at how gently he maneuvered the kitten to where he could fit the bottle in its mouth.
Both the kittens took to the bottles so quickly, Lacey was surprised. Usually, it took a bit of coaxing. These babies must have been very hungry. They couldn't have been older than about three weeks.
"So what do you do here?" Adam spoke first, glancing up at her, then back down at the kitten in his arms, not seeming to care that he was getting fur all over his denim jacket and nice green polo shirt.
"I work here," Lacey replied simply, keeping her eyes trained on the kitten.
After a moment, he spoke again. "I'm not a jerk, you know. You can look at me." Irritation colored his words.
Lacey finally looked up. "Never said I thought you were a jerk."
Adam looked back down at the kitten, shifting it in his arms when it seemed to become distracted from the nipple. "You didn't have to. You've made it pretty apparent."
"Well, I was disa--," Lacey started to shoot back, but stopped herself. She couldn't tell Adam how indelibly his act of kindness was imprinted in her mind. How, for years, she'd imagined he might be different, standing out from the other hockey players. She'd put him on a pedestal all because of a scarf he'd given her. If she was disappointed, it really ought to be in herself for assuming so much.
She took a deep breath, changing directions. "Okay. So what hurts so much that you need Percocets?"
Adam's eyes darted around quickly, making sure no one else was listening. Then he looked back at her, unblinking. "Why do you care so much?"
Lacey was at a loss for how to explain. Her kitten seemed to have drunk enough for now, and kept moving her head from the nipple, so she set the bottle down and lifted the kitten up, placing it against her heart and rubbing its soft fur. "Can a person not care just because they do?"
Adam studied her quietly for a moment. He had a bold stare, his eyes round, blue pools that held a million emotions, a thousand untold stories. Lacey was unable to shift her gaze, but finally he did, evidently satisfied with her response.
"What are they? Boys or girls?" Adam pulled his bottle back as well, setting it on the counter next to Lacey's.
"Calicos are almost always girls," she replied. "When a male calico is born, it's a mutation and they usually have something wrong with them, like blindness. I wonder why anyone would leave two kittens this young behind?"
Adam shrugged, holding up his kitten and examining it as it mewed. He smiled at it, the first smile she'd seen out of Adam this close. Lacey felt a draft blow through her heart, but swallowed hard, willing it to go back down.
"I don't know. People leave lots of stuff behind at the properties. It's just a shame that that also includes living things sometimes."
"So, you're doing your dad's dirty work now?" Lacey quipped.
Adam glanced back at her. "You know, my dad's not a monster. I don't know why people think that. I guess no one cares for businessmen, and definitely not landlords. But Dad's fair. He can't help it that people don't always keep up with their rent, and it falls back on us to keep the utilities up. So sometimes, we just have to be...," he searched for a word.
"Ruthless," Lacey finished for him. "I happen to be one of your dad's tenants. Well, my mom and stepdad, plus me and my sisters. And they haven't always been prompt with rent because there's barely enough money to go around. But Mom and Stuart try really hard. Sometimes they just need a little more time."
Adam looked over at her again, eyes narrowed as if in thought.
"Have I seen you before?" he asked. "I mean from somewhere other than Driskell games?"
Lacey took a deep breath, going behind the counter to find a blanket to put in the box for the kittens while they awaited a kennel. "Yeah...you have," she replied at last.
Adam studied her more closely. She felt her cheeks burn when she glanced up again and saw his brow furrowed.
"I'm Lacey Primmer," she continued. "I met you years ago when you played hockey for the Hawks. Your dad was hassling my mom and Stuart in the rink parking lot over rent, and...I was biting my nails." She let the rest of the story unfold in his mind, watching as the memory seemed to flit through his eyes momentarily.
"Oh...yeah. You bit them to bleeding, didn't you?"
Lacey took a deep breath and nodded. "Yeah, I... I did. I have this condition where I...," she started, but stopped abruptly. "It was just a thing, but thankfully, I've outgrown it."
Adam still watched her. "I think I handed you my scarf to stop the bleeding with."
Lacey nodded again, turning back to the kittens. "I should take these two back to find a kennel."
But Adam remained, looking once again at the kittens, seeming content to let the conversation go for now. It was sounding more and more like they had both stumbled upon each other's biggest secrets.
"Do you give them names?"
"We do," Lacey replied. "Got any suggestions since you brought them in?"
"Ah, I don't know," Adam chuckled. "Whatever you think, I guess."
"Come on!" Lacey smiled. "I want to hear what you'd come up with. NHL players?"
"Nah," Adam shrugged. "They're girls, and there haven't been that many female NHL players so far. Um... Violet and Veronica. How's that?" He gave a half smile.
Lacey laughed. "Violet and Veronica? Really?"
Adam's face went serious. "Violet was my grandmother's name. She died last year."
Lacey paused. "Oh, I'm... I'm so sorry, I had no idea."
But Adam snorted. "Sorry, couldn't resist. My grandma's name is Laura, and she's living with her third husband in Florida. In perfect health. Violet and Veronica just popped into my head. What's wrong with them?"
"Nothing!" Lacey resisted the urge to slap his arm. "But, gee, were you ever about to make me feel like a jerk."
"Nah, you're not a jerk, either. Trust me, I know plenty of those," Adam said with a smile. He shifted to reach into his pocket and pull out his keys. "Alright, well, guess they're in good hands. So I'd better get back." He turned to go, then paused and looked back at Lacey.
"Did you not know you were biting your nails that short? How could you not tell they were bleeding?" he asked.
"I...," Lacey paused. "I don't know, I just zoned out I guess. It was nothing I hadn't done before, but...I really appreciated your kindness."
Adam shrugged, giving her a small smile. "Anybody would have done it."
No they wouldn't. And they hadn't. Not ever.
"Still. Thanks."
Adam nodded. "Yeah, okay. Take good care of the cats, all right?"
"Of course." Lacey smiled as he turned and pushed on the door."Oh, and Adam?"
He turned back to her, his foot on the threshold.
"I'm seventeen. Not sixteen," she corrected belatedly.
He laughed and shook his head. "Alright then. I'll give you that one year." And with that, he headed out.
Lacey smiled and watched after him, before turning back and picking up the box holding Violet and Veronica.
Not a bad guy, after all.