A New Enemy (Enemies 1)

We drove out of the parking lot at a slow pace, and Teddy clapped happily. But the doctor’s appointment today must’ve been something extra. He couldn’t stop yawning. About five minutes into the ride, he squirmed closer to me to get comfortable and leaned his head on my shoulder. As much as our helmets allowed anyway.

“I want Dylan to get a bike, Bastian,” he said over the steady hum of the engine. “They’re better than cars.”

I chuckled and turned onto the next road, each one bringing us closer to Silver Beach. At this point, we were surrounded by one-story houses that’d seen better days. This whole area was shamefully neglected.

“I don’t think your mom would like that very much,” I replied. Last I heard, they were saving up to get an affordable minivan. “Where would your sister sit?”

Teddy let out a laugh. “I don’t know.”

I smiled to myself, content beyond words, and we crawled out of the last residential area before the forest took over. Other than the single major road we had to cross, we didn’t encounter much traffic. I kept my distance along the side of the street, then reached the dirt road leading to the beach.

Past the parking lots for beachgoers, past the little restaurant that closed way too early in my opinion, past the two ice cream shops. I veered left and hit the private road. Almost home. The salt from the ocean filled my senses, mingling with the scent of evergreen and soil.

Pastel dreams… Christ. It still baffled me how the woman had worded herself in the article. She’d been so damn nice. She’d asked all the right questions about the Quad, everything I wanted to highlight, and then she’d just ignored it. It sucked.

I slowed down further as we reached the first house. Light beige, baby blue, white, faded pink, my house—the mint-green one—and lastly, the pastel yellow. Now I wouldn’t be able to quit thinking about pastel dreams. Goddammit.

I pulled into my driveway and noted that Bob next door had the light on in his hallway. It usually meant he’d recently been out or was about to leave.

“Buddy, do you wanna come with me to Bob’s or do you wanna go inside right away?”

Teddy’s response got lost as Bob opened the door and my two Husky boys barked loudly and ran out. Safe to say, we wouldn’t have to go over.

“Halt, Mischa,” I commanded. I’d rather not get off the bike with two hell-raisers running around us. When Mischa obediently stopped and sat down a few feet away, his little brother Echo followed suit.

By the time Teddy and I were off the bike and I’d locked up, Bob trailed up my driveway with the recent addition to the family.

“You know, I’d much rather keep this one for myself, son,” he said.

I chuckled and walked over to him. “I take it she’s been good.” How could she not? She was my misfit miracle. I carefully lifted the little kitten from Bob’s hands, and she meowed her way to my arms. She had a thing for climbing up on my neck.

“Always an angel.” Bob handed over the blanket too. It happened to be Teddy’s old security blanket. He’d given it to the kitten the day he’d named her Tiger Lily.

She wasn’t supposed to survive. Up until last month, I’d been looking out for an abandoned cat as a favor to a friend who ran an animal shelter. The cat happened to be pregnant. She gave birth to seven little ones, and this one was rejected after two weeks for some unknown reason.

She was perfectly healthy. My friend took back the mother and the other kittens, and she gave me the option of keeping Lily if I was up for playing mother to her.

I fucking was.

We’d made it through three critical weeks together, without the mother, and she was growing stronger every day. Bob’s assistance while I worked was a huge help too. Tomorrow was a day worth celebrating, in fact. Lily turned five weeks, and I was gonna meet Teddy’s semi-closeted uncle who wanted nothing more than for Sophia and Teddy to pack their bags and move back to Georgia.

Nothing could go wrong.

“Don’t forget to knock back, Bastian,” Teddy mumbled sleepily.

“I’ll be right on the other side of the wall,” I promised. “Sleep well, buddy.”

I’d never forgotten to knock back.

I closed the door to his room, just a few feet away from the couch that shared his wall, but it was no use to sit down and wait. He knocked shortly after, and I dutifully rapped my knuckle against the wall five times.

I love you, sweet dreams.

Four years ago, it’d been a different wall. And only two knocks at first for good night. Every evening. I’d sat in my living room on my ratty couch, waiting for him to go to bed in the apartment next door. He’d knocked; I’d knocked back. He’d been so upset initially when I told him I was moving. He thought we’d never knock to each other again.