Anyway, I know I’ve been lucky. I’ve been lucky because I had a mother who was willing to work herself half to death and love me more than life or death itself. I had good friends, and those friends had good parents who loved me like I was their own. Yes, I grew up quite poor. Sometimes our fridge didn’t have much food, and the apartments were just alright, never anything fancy. I slept on the couch until I was eight years old, and when my mom could finally afford a twin-sized bed for me, I kept it until I was eighteen. We didn’t have fancy technology, video games, a cell phone, or any of that. I borrowed books from the library, and then I went to Sam’s house, and he shared his things with me.
When I was sixteen, I got a job of my own and bought myself a car with the money. I also helped with rent, fixed up my mom’s car, and worked hard to get a scholarship which I did end up getting. I still had to keep my part-time job though. That was until I figured out I was really, really good at math and learned how to put it to good use.
Then everything changed.
Maybe this is the day everything changes for that unfortunate cat.
I’ve thought a lot about childhood poverty, hunger, illiteracy, and the flaws in the system. I’ve donated a lot of money to help with these issues here in Bellevue and Seattle and beyond that to other areas of Washington because it’s my home state, but I’ve never really thought about anything other than people. Other species. How they must suffer too, and how that suffering must be unimaginable and overwhelming.
When I grab my wallet and phone, I slide open my desk drawer and grab my checkbook too. No, I don’t intend to bribe my way into getting a cat, but I do intend to make a donation because I feel like it’s very much needed, and I’m ashamed I’ve never thought of it before.
I don’t mind giving money away as it’s quite easy to do it. You’d think that because I didn’t grow up with much money, I’d want to hang onto it with a tight fist, but the opposite is true. I grew up with a different kind of wealth. I grew up with love and luck, and I did get good opportunities. I was born smart enough, and those natural talents helped me change my life.
Thinking about giving away money makes me think about Sarah and Marla. I haven’t told my mom about my new adopted grannies yet, but I know she’ll love it. I’ve never had a granny before, not really. Mom doesn’t know what happened to her mom, and I don’t think she wants to know. I think she just wants to hold on to the few good memories she still has and not let anything tarnish them.
Anyway, getting a cat was never part of the plan I constructed, but last night, it popped out, and I knew I couldn’t back out of it. Maybe it will be one of those happy things that happen to me where I’ll get a warm bundle of fur who loves me unconditionally because her heart is pure and big and wonderful.
No, I’m not tearing up.
Okay, I am. A little. Because the poor cat.
Maybe once I prove myself worthy of a cat, Stella will soften a little.
It wasn’t part of the plan to cut her strings and set her free either, but when I read through her proposal, I knew what I had to do.
Even as I slide into my car and drive in the direction of the shelter to meet my new “purrful,” one-eyed soulmate, I think over the email I was going to send Stella. I know her. She is not going to be able to say no. And this opportunity is just what I was looking for to set my plans into motion.
But before that, I have something else I needed to do. And this is what I am actually dreading the most.
CHAPTER 9
Hal
Sam is a former jock, so there really isn’t anything better in his books than chilling, watching the game, and having a couple of beers. Or without the beers. Sam’s never been much of a drinker. He was a smart jock. He also knew his sports career wouldn’t last forever, and while he was good enough to get a free ride to college, he was never going to make it big, so he got a degree he could actually use and finished it up before the scholarship money ran out.
Sam has a big leather couch, which he’s currently sprawled out on. His flat-screen TV, mounted on the wall at the end of the room, is playing a football game I don’t care about.