Keeping The Moon(4)

I was beginning to wonder what kind of world I had landed in.

“Norman?” A woman’s voice came from inside, filtering through the screen door. “Is that you?”

“Yeah,” Norman called back, walking up the steps and leaning in close against the screen, shielding his eyes with his hand. “The

train was right on time, for once.”

“I can’t find him again,” said the woman, who I assumed must be my aunt Mira. She sounded like she was moving quickly, her voice

strong at first and then fading. “He was here this morning but then I just lost track of him….”

“I’ll look for him,” Norman said, already glancing down the porch and into the yard. “He never goes far. He’s probably just

having issues with that dog again.”

“Issues?” I said.

“Big ones,” he said under his breath, still looking.

“Is Colie with you?” she said, her voice rising as she came closer.

“Yep,” Norman said. “She’s right here.”

I kept waiting for the door to open. It didn’t.

“I can’t stand it when he does this,” Mira said, her voice fading again. I looked at Norman, who was pacing the porch, peering

over the rail to check under the house.

“We’ll find him,” Norman said. “Don’t worry.”

I just stood there. Obviously my aunt was as excited to see me as I was to come here.

I sat down next to my bag and pulled my knees to my chest. There was a rustle in the bushes, and the fattest tabby cat I’d ever

seen poked his head out to look at me. He wound himself through the handrail, almost getting stuck, and brushed against me, leaving

about an inch of cat hair on my black pants, jacket, and shirt. Then he climbed into my lap, clawed me for a second, and settled

in.

“Cat Norman!” Norman said, and the cat turned to look at him, flicking his tail.

“What?” I said.

“Found him!” Norman yelled out.

“Did you?” said the voice from inside.

“You should take him in to her,” Norman said to me. “She’ll love you instantly.”

“I don’t like cats,” I said, trying to dislodge the monster from my lap. He was purring now, a loud, rumbling noise that sounded

like a chainsaw.

“Cat Norman?” Mira called out. “Come here, you terrible thing, you!”

“Take him in,” Norman said again. “She’s waiting.” He started slowly down the steps. I noticed he moved everywhere slowly.

I stood up, the cat in my arms. He weighed about thirty pounds, as much as an entire set of KikiBell weights.

“I’ll see you later,” Norman said, already walking around the house, toward the backyard.

“Colie?” Mira said. Through the screen, I could almost make out a shape in the hallway. “Is he with you?”

I walked toward the door, the cat curled against me. “We’re coming,” I said, and I stepped inside.

The first thing I saw when my eyes adjusted was the TV in the next room. It was tuned to a wrestling match, and at that moment some

huge man in a cape and a blindfold was leaping to flatten another man in purple spandex, who was writhing on the mat. As the caped

man took off, his arms spread, you could see behind him rows and rows of people, aghast, as he fell fell fell toward his victim.

Splat.

“Cat Norman!” my Aunt Mira said, stepping right in front of the TV and opening her arms to both of us. “And Colie. Hello!”

Mira was overweight, just like my mother had been before she became Kiki Sparks. She had a wide face and long red hair piled up on

her head, like she’d done it in a hurry—a pencil and a pen were sticking out of it. She had on an old, deep green kimono

patterned with dragons, a big white T-shirt, black leggings, and flip-flops. Her toenails were painted bright pink.

“Colie!” she cried again, and before I knew it she had wrapped her arms around both me and the cat. She smelled like a mix of

vanilla and turpentine. “I’m so glad to see you. You look different, all grown up. And skinny! Your mom’s program must work

then, right?”

“Right.” A piece of cat hair blew up my nose, and my eyes started watering.

“Bad, bad Cat Norman,” she said to the cat, who was mashed between us, still purring. “I wonder what kind of trouble you found

on this adventure, huh?”

The cat sneezed. Then he wriggled out of my arms, pushed off, and landed with a thud not unlike the wrestler’s. He was obviously

not a cat who did a lot of jumping; it was at least a second before his considerable girth caught up with him.

“Oh, you’re terrible!” she scolded as he walked off, taking his time. Then she looked at me, shaking her head. “He’s the light

of my life, but he’s in his terrible twos right now and going through a real distant phase. It’s just breaking my heart.”

“The cat,” I said, verifying.

“Norman,” she corrected me.

“Oh, Norman,” I said, looking outside where I’d last seen him. “He does seem kind of spacey.”