She kisses me and then tells me, “You’re the one that made me want to feel again. That helped bring me back to life.”
I could easily give those same words back to her because she did the same for me, only on a completely different scope, so I let her have those words. I love that we can give each other so much. That we can have the best of ourselves with each other. We continue to hug and kiss for a while longer, celebrating Candace’s opening night at the ballet in our quiet way.
She is already out of her costume, so I sit on the small couch as she powders her shoes and begins to pack up.
Spotting a vase full of pink roses, I ask, “Who are those from?”
She looks at the vase and then back to me, saying, “Your mom had those delivered before the show. She felt bad that she couldn’t be here.”
“Babe, I need to tell you something,” I say and then motion for her to come sit next to me, and when she does, I turn to her and take her hands in mine. I know she’ll be okay when I tell her about her father because she has such a solid support system in the people that choose to be a part of her life. “I saw your dad tonight.”
Seeing her eyes open up with hope, she asks, “He’s here?”
“He was,” I say gently. “I ran into him as he was leaving,” Her face falls when I tell her this.
“Didn’t he want to see me?”
Her head drops when I shake my head.
“What did he say?”
We’ve been nothing but transparent with each other, so I give her that respect when I say, “That he loves you, but he loves your mother too. He didn’t want me to tell you he was here, but I never want to keep anything from you again, and I need you to know that.”
The tears in her eyes are hard to look at as she sits here. “Don’t doubt for a second that you don’t have a family full of people that love and support you because you do. They might not be your blood, but they are your heart.”
She takes a second before she speaks on a soft breath, “So that’s it?” referring to her parents.
“I think so.”
Defeat washes over her as her shoulders slump.
“I know it hurts, babe, but I also know that you haven’t done a thing wrong here. It’s them, not you.”
“Can you just take me home?”
“Yeah,” I whisper and help her gather her things before I drive us home.
She’s quiet, and I hate that I had to dampen her night, but I swore to her that there would never being anything that I would withhold from her again.
It’s cold and rainy when I open the garage so we don’t get wet. Walking into the house, everything is dark and quiet until a faint, “Meow,” from outside filters in.
Cocking my head at Candace and giving her a knowing look, she knits her brows together, silently pleading with me.
“No.”
“Ryan, it’s freezing outside,” she says.
“We’re not bringing that stray cat in here.”
“You’re being mean. She’s a nice cat. I’ve never seen her be aggressive,” she defends.
Shaking my head at her, she pleads, “It’s pouring out there.”
Candace is giving me the most pitiful look, and knowing she’s already feeling defeated tonight, I give in and sigh out, “Fine.”
She tilts her head and questions, “Really?” for clarity.
“For tonight.”
She doesn’t waste a second when she runs to the front door and opens it, bending down and picking up the tiny cat who huddles in her arms. I smile at her as she coos and starts walking over to me.
“I’m gonna give her a bath.”
“What?! No, you’re not. The cat is gonna sleep in the garage,” I tell her.
“She’s filthy.”
“You do know cats hate water, right?” I say, but she ignores me as she starts walking back to the guest bedroom.
Not trusting this animal in the slightest, I follow her back and proceed to help her grab towels and run a little water in the tub. This cat is terrified as shit, so I take it out of her hands and hold it while it squeals and writhes in fear as Candace washes her. But it’s when she begins thrashing in my hands that she slips out of my hold, jumping out of the tub and tears through the house, no sound but her claws clicking against the wooden floors.
“Fuck!”
Chasing after her, all I hear is Candace laughing, still in the bathroom.
“Help me find her!” I call out while I make my way upstairs.
I follow the dreadful meows to the bedroom and find her under the bed. Getting on my knees, I peek my head under, and see her curled against the wall in the middle of the bed.
“Come here,” I say in a singsong voice, mocking my liking for her. Giving the floor a couple light taps, I call again, “Come here,” when I see Candace’s head poke down from the other side, giggling.
“This shit isn’t funny,” I tell her.
She rolls her eyes at me, and then calls to the cat, but she still doesn’t budge. “Great,” she huffs out. “You’ve scared her.”
“What?”
“She knows you don’t like her.”
“You’re kidding me, right?” I say as we continue to go back and forth with our heads underneath the bed. “You’re the one that tortured this thing because you just had to give it a bath.”
“I didn’t torture her,” she argues.