I was nine and three quarters when my cat died-Tom. Tom Cat Furry Flufkins McClure was his full name. Momma said he up and ran away. I guess when explaining death to a kid it’s just easier to lie. So she did. But I ain’t a kid! Not no more that is. I got all my grown-up teeth in, and Poppa calls me “big girl”. He says one day I’m gonna hate being called that, but I dunno what he’s talkin bout.
Tom didn’t run away. The real story is he was hit by a car. It was our neighbor Mr. Jenkins, I know it. I saw him. It was a Saturday morning and cartoons were starting. I always got up real early to watch. Momma was still in bed. She got home late last night from a date with the guy with the braces. I didn’t like him. When he came to pick up Momma, I answered the door to his metallic grin. Momma says I shouldn’t judge. She says one day soon I’ma have the same smile as him and I’ll thank her for it—whatever that means.
I liked the guy with the accent. The other night I was flipping through the channels when there was a knock at the door. Momma yelled at me from the bathroom to get it—“Five more minutes baby,” she said. Momma was always needin more time—time to think, time to get away, time to smear on waxy red lipstick then pucker and smack repeatedly in the mirror till it was just right. I would watch her, then trot to my room to track down my Barbie Deluxe Makeover kit. It was no longer cool since I got it when I was eight and a half, but it did come with “Party Time Pink”-a sparkly gloss I could layer on my lips then smack and pucker in the mirror just like Momma.
Javier stepped into the living room while Momma finished getting ready. “What are you watching?” he asked with the strangest voice I had ever heard.
“Nothin,” I answered. “What’s wrong with your voice?”
“My voice?” he repeated back to me and laughed. He looked at me like my teacher Ms. Penny. Ms. Penny was always sayin I asked too many questions.
“Don’t be rude!” she’d tell me makin her voice all high on the “rude”.
“I’m just curious,” I’d say. “Curious like Tom.”
Javier ran his fingers through his long, black hair. He held a single red rose which I hoped was for me, but knew wasn’t. “I’m not from here,” he said.
“Oh.”
“Do you know where El Salvador is my dear?” he asked in that same strange voice.
“Nuh uh.”
“Well, I am from there.”
“And everyone there talks weird like you?” I asked. He laughed again.
“Yes. Everyone there talks weird like me.”
“Oh.”
Then there was the guy before the guy with the accent, and the preacher, and my softball coach, and before that was my school principal. “This isn’t weird for you, is it baby?” Momma asked. I guess I got a pretty poor grade on my last math test. Bad enough that Ms. Penny had Mr. Edwards, the principal, on the phone with Momma.
“But Moooooommmmm,” I explained to her in the kitchen when she got off the phone. “Momma I don’t neeeeeeeeed math. I’m gonna be an actress and everyone knows they can’t count!”
Momma smiled at me a little bit. One of those smiles that is only on one side of her mouth cuz I know really she is trying to be serious. “Homework,” she said. “Go do your homework! And Mr. Edwards will be by soon.”
“What? Momma whyyyy?”
“Oh baby, come on! I asked if it was weird for you.” Momma went on a lot of dates. I didn’t care much for most of them—except for the guy with the accent and Poppa of course.
Momma and Poppa called it quits a long time ago. They fought a lot. I remember some nights when I was only five and a quarter. I’d get so scared hearing them in the other room. Momma’s voice was real angry and Poppa got real mean. I think it was about me.
I had Tom though. He would crawl under my Little Mermaid sheets and purr right by my ear. His soft nose tickled my skin and I couldn’t much hear the fighting no more.
Poppa moved out soon after. I only saw him on holidays. Last year he took me to the zoo for my birthday. I got to see the monkeys and the bears, but I didn’t like the fish. They scared me.
Poppa said he still loved Momma—that they were just different was all. He said he and Momma loved me a whole lot too. He also said he’d call me once a week. I haven’t heard from him in a while.
When Tom got hit by a car, I called Poppa. He answered and told me quickly he couldn’t talk. “We’ll talk later, k big girl?”
I said, “okay,” and hung up.
Momma woke up and came into the kitchen. She was followed by the guy with the braces who wasn’t wearing a shirt. He couldn’t stop smiling. Momma poured him a cup of coffee in the mug I made her in the second grade. “World’s Best Mom” was written in pink paint. He kissed her neck and a piece of his metal-covered mouth caught the sun coming in from the window. It glistened. I felt sick to my stomach.
I didn’t tell Momma about Tom. I was mad at her. She did a bad thing. She’d done a lot of bad things. I wanted the guy with braces to be Poppa. I wanted to wake up and see him come into the kitchen for a cup of coffee. And even though I’m smart, and knew Poppa wasn’t coming home, I still hoped.
I walked outside to see Tom. I had been looking out the window when I saw Mr. Jenkins drive by. He was goin kinda fast, always in a hurry, and I guess he didn’t see Tom. Or maybe Tom was just in his way.
I sat at the window not knowing what to do for a while till I called Poppa. He wasn’t no help, so I told Momma I was gettin the mail and headed down the driveway towards the street instead.
Tom was lying there. His orange, soft fur was covered in bright red blood, and his eyes were closed all peaceful. He was hurtin and I didn’t much know what to do. I wasn’t sure if a band-aid was enough, but I knew I couldn’t ask Momma. I bent down and touched Tom’s paw real gentle. I started to stand and back away real slow. Then I ran.
I ran so fast I thought my legs were gonna fall off. I ran past cars, and stores, and townspeople waving hello. I’d never been so far from home in all my life.
I ended up on a hill in the park overlooking the city. I could see my house from there, and I wondered what Tom was doing right that moment. It started to sprinkle out, and I knew Momma would worry if I was gone long, so I headed home.
Tom wasn’t in the street no more when I got back. I started to think maybe he was okay. Maybe Momma saw him and fixed him! Maybe Tom was inside all bandaged up! Maybe Momma did for him what she did for me when I was sick—though I doubted he was covered in blankets on the couch with a cup of ginger ale.
I opened the door and went inside. The guy with braces had left and Momma was at the stove making breakfast. She hadn’t noticed how long I was gone. She told me to have a seat, that we needed to talk, and I obeyed. Then she started to tell me how Tom had run away. She said it was okay to be sad, and that these things happened. She said wherever he was he was happy, and that we could go downtown today to the pet store and get a kitten. “You can name him and everythin,” she said sipping from her mug and playin with the scrambled eggs on her plate.
I didn’t much feel like eatin anything. And I knew Tom hadn’t run away. But Momma didn’t know I knew. And I didn’t tell her. She was tryin. She was doin what she thought was best, and I got that. Adults lie to kids cuz it’s easier. But I ain’t a kid.
I smiled at Momma from across the table to let her know she’d done good. “Okay,” I said.
Then I got up from the table, went into the bathroom, and smeared on Momma’s red lipstick.
BIO: Becca Poulson is currently a junior English Creative Writing and Spanish Major at Cal State Long Beach.
