Beautiful Graves(12)

As we stuff ourselves into a cab to the airport, I marvel at the last twenty-four hours.

It is too good to be true.

And Pippa is wrong. Joe and I didn’t use a condom tonight.

We used two.





THREE


Six years later.

Loki is gone.

I come to this realization after looking for him everywhere. I searched both my and Nora’s rooms, under the beds, in the closets, all the cabinets, and behind the couch.

I try to keep myself together, which is impossible enough even without a disaster looming over my head. I tell myself there are only so many places a fifteen-pound aging cat can hide in. Especially in a tiny two-bedroom apartment.

But Loki has never done this before. Disappeared on me like this. Not since I adopted him from a shelter my first (and last) week living in Boston.

Nora says my cat has the personality of a tyrannical king. Moody, vocal, and sporting three chins, Loki usually limits his cold war tactics to peeing in our shoes when we leave him alone for long periods of time. But he never gets out of the house.

Partly because we live in a certified crap hole. It’s a converted single home that’s been split into three apartments on Upham Street, Salem. Two of them are used as storage spaces for our landlord, probably because no one is crazy enough to live in them. Utility poles tangle the sky of my neighborhood like cobwebs. There are chain links and barking dogs everywhere, and a whole lot of nothing to explore. From his usual vantage point on the windowsill, Loki has no reason to believe the world is his oyster. If anything, the world probably appears to him as a very unappetizing broccoli flower.

“Try not to freak out, babe.” Nora tornadoes from her bedroom to the hallway, collecting her silky blonde hair into a colorful scrunchie. She is wearing high-waisted baggy jeans and a cropped pink shirt. “I’m sure he’s around somewhere. Maybe he got out and doesn’t know the way back.”

“Very comforting,” I deadpan.

“Oh, you know what I mean. He’s a cat. They always land on their feet.”

I look at her doubtfully. Nora knows optimism is not my forte. In fact, it takes very little to make me crawl into bed and not leave unless I have work to go to.

She sighs. “Have you tried looking outside? In the hallway? By the park?”

She shoves her feet into her sneakers on her way to the door. She is already late to her movie date with her boyfriend, Colt. I should be getting ready for work too.

“Not yet. No. Not outside the house.” I find myself crouching and looking for Loki in places I’ve already checked. I don’t want to look for him outside. Something tells me that if he got outside, he is not alive anymore. And that makes me want to just cease to exist. Not actively die. Just . . . discontinue to be.

“You should post about him on Facebook and Craigslist. With a picture.” Nora grabs her clutch from the stand next to our front door. I hear a horn honking. It’s Colt. She throws me a guilty wince. “Sorry to bail on you like this. C’s been dying to watch this movie. It’s with Margot Robbie, you know.”

I shake my head. “It’s fine. You think if I post an ad, it’d help?”

“Can’t hurt, and you know Lauren, who works the reception at Saint Mary’s? She lost her French bulldog the other day. Posted about him on Craigslist and got a response a day later. The dog was found in a park near her house. It’s worth trying.”

“Okay,” I say. “I’ll do it.”

Nora kisses the palm of her hand twice and waves at me. “Let me know if you need anything. And text me if you find Loki. Bye!”

If. My stomach churns.

After she is gone, I tromp my way up and down my street, looking in all the trash cans and front yards. When it is obvious he is not in the neighborhood, I go back home, power up my laptop, and get on Craigslist. It’s not a super-active community page. Salem is pretty small. In fact, for all its rich history and reputation, Salem is the home of fewer than forty-five thousand residents.

I click on the Lost and Found section, then skim through it. Some of the featured pets have been found. Some are still missing. Nora is right. This is worth a shot. It’s been a few hours since Loki went missing. Enough time for him to venture out of this zip code.

I open an account, then roam through my phone for a picture of Loki. Embarrassingly, most of the pictures on it are of him. That’s what happens when you don’t have a boyfriend/friends/family/life. You become a cat lady at age twenty-four.

I make sure I choose a good picture of him. One where he looks straight into the camera with the seriousness of a self-important duke. In the picture, he is sitting on our windowsill, showing off those furry chins. I upload it to the site, then write a quick post.

REWARD. Missing since 10/20. Neutered male. Tuxedo black and white. May have a studded black leather collar. Answers to Loki or Lulu. Has a small piece missing on his left ear.

I sit back and read it. It reads fine. Clinical. Informative. But I want more. I want them to know Loki isn’t just a cat. Pets are never just animals. They’re family. So I add:

Please let us know if you see him. We miss him so much. Thank you.

We is me. Loki is my cat. Nora just took him under her wing because he and I were a package deal. We are both strays under her mercy. Lost souls moving in this world without any rhyme or reason.

Nora, with her big smile and even bigger heart. We’ve been rooming together for almost five years now, and I know that she is ready to start her next chapter in life. She wants to move in with Colt.