She just continues to slide away, and I shake my head on a laugh.
This is the first night I don’t struggle with the 3:00 a.m. crash because my mind is playing the sight of Parker on a constant loop. Even as I try to distract myself by thinking of anything else, I can’t shake the thoughts away. I know I just need to get home, see Aaron, and sleep for seven to ten business days.
Maybe that would erase Parker from my memories.
I thought that would be the case after years apart, but all it took was one look at him in his element and I feel like any progress I made has been erased. Being around him all the time has not helped, and I have a feeling it’s only going to get worse.
CHAPTER 11
Parker
I’ve namedthe cat I found Franklin. He came home with me after my shift when I found him in the same dirt hole looking hungry and lethargic. I don’t want to think about the worst-case scenario for his mom, but I haven’t seen her around.
The tables turned fairly quickly with Franklin, and it’s pretty clear that he hates me. This is proven even more so when I refill his food bowl with some soft food, and he thanks me by jumping onto my hand, latching his nails and teeth into my skin.
“Ow! Franklin, get off you demon.” I try to gently get him off me, but he lets out a low growl and digs in even harder. “I’m just feeding you.”
I finally get him to let go, and he makes sure to hiss at me one more time for good measure as I back away from his food. “I know you’re a baby, but you never bite the hand that feeds you.”
He doesn’t seem to care about how rude he is to me as he makes little growling noises while he eats. I look down at my hands covered in scratches and bites from the feral beast I broughtinto my house. He’s about to be really upset with me later today when I take him to the vet.
I leave Franklin alone to eat while I go to change my sheets. I make sure to pull out the scrunchie from under my pillow and set it on my nightstand, so it doesn’t get lost. I used to think I was ridiculous for keeping it, especially to have it under my pillow every night I’m home. That’s why I tried putting it somewhere else, but it always made its way back to the spot under my pillow.
After Franklin is done eating, and I’ve changed and started the washer, I begin the feat of getting him into the carrier. He’s currently licking his paw as I approach with the small carrier I bought.
“Are we going to do this the easy way or the hard way?” I ask, squaring up to the two-pound ball of orange fluff that’s looking at me like he’s actively plotting my murder. “Should I try to call in reinforcements?”
I feel like if this cat could talk, he would be cussing me out. I think about reaching out to Lily to see if she could help me. She’s always been good with animals. She’s always had the biggest heart with everyone, but especially those with four legs. Or two, sometimes. Except Jerry Lee. I think that bird has it out for everyone.
I’m sure if I did reach out to Lil, she would argue with me rather than help and likely make us miss the appointment. I’ll make sure to try again later, but for now I think this is just going to be me. Which is probably for the best because I’d rather not run the risk of seeing her with that asshole again.
After several minutes, more war wounds and a sense of confusion at where this demon cat came from, I manage to wrangle him into the carrier. While he’s screaming in anger at me, I feel like Iwas tricked by him in the beginning because he was so sweet when I found him. Now I’m convinced he might be a reincarnated serial killer.
Of course, at the vet he acts like a perfect angel. I can’t help but feel like whatever his problem is it’s with me in particular. As soon as the vet tech leaves, I look at Franklin and ask, “If you have a problem with me, could we at least try to talk it out?”
He lets out another one of his low growls, and I take that as a no. The vet comes in, and Franklin greets him with a meow. I glare at my cat, seriously wondering where I went wrong.
“How are you two doing today?” the vet greets.
“I’m fine. He seems to have a vendetta against me.”
Franklin bumps his head against the vet’s hand, encouraging him to pet him and I just shake my head.Little liar.
“Seems like he’s in a pretty good mood to me.”
I grumble while the vet starts his examination. Not long after he starts, he says, “Ah, that may be the problem.”
“What problem? There’s a problem?” I start to panic. Franklin may have been mean, but he hasn’t seemed sick. Now I feel worse because maybe he’s sick or in pain and I’ve just thought he hates me.
The vet chuckles. “Franklin doesn’t seem to be a Franklin at all.”
I furrow my brows. “What do you mean? He told you he doesn’t like his name?”
“No, he’s a she.”
My jaw drops. “I looked it up and it said most orange cats are boys.”
“That’s true. About eighty percent are, but this one is one of the few that’s special.”