I roll my eyes because I know this bitch recognizes my voice and just likes to taunt me.
“Fucking me.”
“That’s an interesting way to announce yourself.”
“I need a favor. I’m going to the lake for a few weeks. I think I need to get out of the house and the memories there, like everyone keeps saying. It’s making me fucking crazy being here.”
“I think that’s a good idea, Vandal. A change of scenery is good.”
“I’m not going up ’til late Saturday afternoon. Can you maybe go up there Saturday morning and clean it, make sure nothing is lying around? You know, like any toys or any of her stuff …”
“Of course. I’ll bring some food up, too. If any of Katie’s things are there I’ll put them in a box in the basement. No worries.”
“I’m going to take my bike up, so could you maybe take the fucking cat up there for me?”
“You love the fucking cat, don’t you?” she teases.
“Yeah, I guess I fucking do. His carrier is in the hall closet. Maybe buy him stuff to keep at the lake? Like a litter box and food dish and all that stuff? So he has things in both places.” I wonder what else would keep him busy? “Get him one of those carpeted cat condo things, too. I don’t want him scratching the hell out of my furniture. I’ll give you some cash when I see you.” The kitten jumps on my lap and I pet him absently as he does happy paws on my leg. “He’ll be okay in a new place for a few weeks? And you’ll come drive him home when I’m ready to come back?” I ask her.
“Of course I will. And he’ll be okay; I’ll show him where his stuff is when I get there. Give him a day or two to adjust.” I gently disengage Sterling’s nails from my jeans. “I’m glad you kept him.” Her voice lifts in happiness.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Your evil plan worked. Thanks for everything, Evie. And tell Storm … tell Storm I’m sorry for the things I said to him. I was just fucked up. More than usual.”
“He knows that. He’s not mad. He just wants you to be okay. They all do.” She sneezes and then goes right back to talking. “They’re not punishing you; they’re just trying to get you to straighten out.”
“I’m trying, Evelyn,” I reply, half meaning it. I stand and place Sterling on the floor by his cat bed. “I’ll text you when I’m up there.”
***
There’s a yellow Post-it next to my laptop that catches my eye as I hang up. It’s screaming for my attention so badly that I wouldn’t be surprised if it grew legs and chased me around the house. I start a debate with myself. I could lie on the couch, drink, take some painkillers and watch horror movies all day in a daze with Sterling slumbering on my chest, or I can pick up that Post-it and follow what’s scribbled on it. I cross the room and pick up the small yellow note, staring at it for a few seconds before shoving it in my pocket and grabbing my car keys.
I’ve had many addictions throughout my life. They all have a voice, demanding to be heard, seducing me to give in to them. Once that starts, I am powerless to ignore it. I have to have it—I have to quiet the voices and quench the desire for whatever the evil of the day is.
Today it’s an address across town, and the voices lead me right out of the house to my midnight-blue Camaro. I listen to some of my favorite rock music while I drive, windows down, hair blowing. I haven’t felt this undead in a long time.
I’m not overly familiar with this part of town, but with the help of the GPS, after about thirty minutes I am soon turning down the quiet residential street scribbled on the sticky note, and slowly creeping past each house until I reach number 1999. That number excites me, and it’s got nothing to do with the Prince song about a fucking party. It’s the year I grew a pair, left the shit-storm of a mess that was my home, and went out to live on my own.