CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Parker’s article was a hit. Loretta hadn’t done the story, after all, and his piece was fresh and new and exciting, or so he was told. The Dean was thrilled by the response the article was getting and told Parker he might get yet another award. It secretly pleased Parker that the Dean said this in front of Fred Schnieder, who pinched his lips together and left the room.
On his way home from work the Friday following the weekend the article came out, Parker was in high spirits. Missy was coming to visit tomorrow, and who knew what would happen. Since Parker had taken her advice about calling Belle, Missy had called about once a week and they had mostly nice conversations. After she read the Cleo article, she called to say she would fly out for a few days, and maybe they could do some serious talking. Admittedly, Parker wasn’t as interested in the talking as much as what he hoped would come after it.
Once at his apartment door, he slipped the key in the lock and turned, but there was a looseness in the feel of it. His door was unlocked. Had he forgotten to lock it?
He slowly opened the door as a gray blur came running at him. He blocked its approach with his feet and slammed the door behind him, stunned to see Cleo sitting on his couch.
“What the hell?” popped out of his mouth before he could think.
She was wearing a new pair of black pants and a soft-looking green sweater. Her clean hair was pulled up in a ponytail, black curls cascading out around her shoulders.
She said, “I read your article.” She smiled.
“How did you get in here?” Jack started rubbing against his legs, weaving a figure eight in between his frozen feet.
“With your key. I had to return your belongings.”
“What do you mean?”
“Come in, don’t just stand there.”
He slowly walked toward her like there might be a snake in the room.
She patted the couch next to her.
He sat down, saying, “You look nice.”
“Thanks. I like a compliment. Here’s your house key.” She dropped a brass key on the coffee table. A mental “oh” rode through Parker. The key in Cleo’s blue shorts had been his, stolen from him in Knockout Alley. She continued, “I pitched the car key, hope you don’t mind. They were all just protecting me, you know. The people you talked to, the ones that jumped you in that alley. And I really shouldn’t refer to your cat as a belonging, I suppose.”
“He’s your cat.”
“He’s your cat, missed you like crazy.”
Parker watched Jack rub his face on one of the mermaid-carved legs of the coffee table, not sure what to say.
“In your article,” Cleo said, “You wanted to know why I had picked you to tell my story to, that you felt there was more to my intentions, but would never know. I’m here to fill in that last little gap for you.”
“Wait,” Parker said. “Where do you live now? You’re all dressed up.”
“I live with Belle, at the moment. I’ve seen them all again, and that was harder that I ever thought it would be. Especially Cecil. They all think I’m a whacko, of course. They want me to take medicines and see doctors. All except for Barbie.”
“You’ve seen her, too?”
“She still has her little shop down in Powelton. Mom’s dead, died from cancer. And my grandparents.”
“So you’re off the streets.”
“That part of my life is over, thanks to you.” She didn’t sound bitter, just matter-of-fact, as though mentioning graduating from high school.
“Do they know you’re here?”
“Well,” she said, eyes shifting to Jack, “I borrowed the car without asking or explaining where I was going. Is it theft if it’s your daughter’s car?”
“What about Cecil?”
“Oh,” she waved a hand. “I guess he forgave me for spitting wine in his face. I don’t want to talk about seeing him again, except to say I was still angry with you when it happened. He’s done well for himself, you know.”
Parker did know. He’d done his research on the family while writing his story.
She said, “You’re right that there was more to our chance meeting. I had been studying you. I had read your articles for a year. Your name caught my attention as much as your writing.”
“My name?”
“Parker Townes. A lot like Patrick Downes, don’t you see? This is what Belle’s doctor would call my ‘magical thinking.’” She grinned. “But I really liked the way you wrote, and I figured that I could get you to spread the word about the Beacon lifestyle, get more people into it.” She looked at Jack as he hopped onto the couch and curled up between them, spreading and closing his claws on the fabric. She stroked his purring head. “It was an accident that I slept past dawn in your car. I had already slept in it a few times, but then there was that morning. I knew it meant something, because the only other time I slept past dawn, my life completely changed. I figured after it happened that my life was ready to change again, and it did. Just not in the direction I was expecting. On the streets, then off. I was very angry at you, but now I understand that this was the change that was coming for me, not the other things I had envisioned.” She patted his hand. “I can do this, though.”
“I’m glad you’re okay.” He couldn’t think of anything else to say.
“That’s all for us, I’m afraid. I have to get back to Philly before they all think I ran away again.”
“What about Barbie? What was it like seeing her again?”
Cleo stopped petting Jack and leaned her head back, closing her eyes. “She doesn’t think I’m crazy, at least.” She opened her eyes and looked at Parker. “Do you?”
That was a question he didn’t want to answer. “I mean, what happened when you saw her again, exactly?”
“Your story’s over and you are avoiding my question.” Her eyes watched him, awaiting a jury foreman to declare her innocent or guilty.
“I just report. I don’t make judgment calls.”
“Ah, yes. The unbiased angle. The no-angle angle. Clever, reporter.” She stood up, saying, “Now you keep this cat. He picked you, and that is a great honor.” She waved when at the door and walked out, closing it gently behind her.
Jack gazed up at him and let out a soft, “Mah.”
The next morning, Parker got out of bed, tripped on a hungry cat, almost fell, and made his way to his bathroom to shower. After the refreshing hot stream of water, he toweled off, excited beyond words about picking Missy up at the airport in a few hours. Jack was sitting on the bathroom windowsill, still as a rock, watching something outside. “What do you see, cat?” He put the towel around his waist and peeked out the window.
He saw birds fluttering about on the sidewalk below. People walked to and from, all wrapped up in the freezing weather. From a distance, all the cars looked clean and well-kept. Sunlight was filtering through the street, making the brick buildings a beautiful color. Parker tried to come up with the right adjective to describe the hue, but nothing came to him. He watched a little longer, curious as to what the little kitten found so fascinating. To someone on the street, it would look like a ritual of a man and his cat who always took the time each morning to look around and greet the day with fresh eyes.
The End
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