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“Megan, calm down.” Kate, my best friend is on the phone and she’s talking to me like I’m a pregnant woman who’s just gone into labor.
“Calm down!” I shriek, “he’s been missing for a week! Anything could have happened. For all I know, he could be dead!”
“He’ll turn up,” Kate says. “I’m sure of it.”
“But how can you be so sure, Kate? A whole week?” I slump down on the couch and place the big bowl of chocolate ice cream on my lap. “I mean, if it was just a day it might not be so bad. Two days… okay, maybe he’s strayed a little too far from home and gotten lost. But a week! I’m really starting to get worried. I’ve put signs up all around town and nobody's called. I think something bad has happened.”
“You want me to come down?” she says. “You say the word and I’ll get on the next plane.”
“No,” I sigh, “but thank you for offering.”
“Good,” Kate laughs, “because I’ve got a date with a smoking hotty tonight, and mama needs to get her some action… if you know what I mean.”
I roll my eyes and tell Kate I know exactly what she means, but I can’t keep my mind off Captain Fluffington, my cat.
I’ve been trying to tell myself everything is alright. That he’ll turn up soon. But on the way home from work today I saw a cat that looked just like him.
I slammed on the brakes and jumped out of the car, only to discover the cat I thought was Captain Fluffington wasn’t Captain Fluffington at all. He was a mean, sultry beast who arched its back, hissed, and then tried to scratch me.
I don’t know which was worse. The realization it wasn’t Captain Fluffington, or the laughter from the children as I ran back to my car, fearing for my life.
“And how’s work?” Kate asks.
“Ugh,” I sigh again, “terrible… Mrs. Pinglyberry is trying to sell the place but nobody's interested. It looks like she’s going to have to close down, and then I’ll be out of a job. Unemployed, catless… and single.”
“Yikes,” Kate says. A pregnant silence follows and I take the opportunity to scoop a few spoonfuls of ice cream into my mouth.
Usually, it’s cold, sugary goodness would make me feel better. But not today. With everything that’s going on, I can’t seem to get any pleasure from it.
I mean, I’m going to finish off the bowl. I’d be crazy not to, right?
It’s not like I’ve got a man. I’m not watching my weight. And, if things keep heading in the direction they’re heading in now, I’ll probably be homeless in a matter of weeks. The extra insulation will keep me warm while I’m camped out in a cardboard box on the streets. A cup in my hand. The words “spare some change” constantly moaning from my cracked lips. Tear stains running down my dirt-ridden face. A little picture of Captain Fluffington in my pocket to remind me of the good old days, before my life fell apart and I was giving blowjobs for fried chicken in the parking lot behind the KFC.
“Well, at least things can’t get any worse,” Kate finally says.
“Yeah,” I sigh, trying not to think about my rancid KFC blowjob career.
Instead, I reach for the full-to-the-brim glass of wine on my coffee table. I take a large sip and rest my head back against the cushions.
Kate tells me all about the dates she’s been on. I mumble the requisite noises and responses, but I’m only half listening.
The other half of me is drinking wine, eating ice cream, and silently saying prayers for the safe return of my beloved cat.
Kate’s just in the middle of telling me a story about a lawyer she dated who has a cock piercing, three children, and a wife, when another call comes through.
“Hang on, Kate,” I say, “I’ve got to take this.”
I press the little green icon on my screen and an old lady's voice bursts out the speakers.
“Hello,” she yells, talking at ten times the necessary volume. “Is this Morgan?”
“Megan,” I correct her.
“That’s right, that’s what I said… Melanie.”
“Melanie?”
