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379 Words
2
The house is dark when Paul pulls into the driveway. Craig’s car isn’t in the garage.
“Hello?” he calls when he gets in the door. There’s no response, and he doesn’t know whether he should have expected one. Todd, his white and tabby hodgepodge of a cat, comes trotting down the stairs and rubs against his legs. But there’s no excited bark from Beau or greeting, however grudging, shouted from Craig.
Paul flicks on the lights as he makes his way to the kitchen. Todd follows, mewing piteously at his heels as if everything in the world is terrible and it’s all Paul’s fault. The cat isn’t wrong.
There’s a note on the counter written on the notepad they use for grocery lists. Craig’s handwriting is neat.
I’m staying at Tara’s tonight. I’ll come back to get my stuff while you’re at work. So pretty much anytime this week. Don’t call.
P.S. Beau’s with me. Good luck with the damn cat.
Paul reads the note twice, then balls it up and throws it across the room. It’s not a remotely satisfying gesture.
Todd yowls his displeasure at being ignored. Paul sighs as the house settles with a creak around him. His boyfriend left and took his dog. It’s an awful country song.
Paul fills Todd’s food bowl and changes his water. He leaves his bag on the counter before he heads upstairs. He’s not sure if he can sleep alone in the bed tonight, but he’s perfectly sure he can cry in the shower.
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* * * *
BY THE MORNING, PAUL’S grief is less about Craig — things had been messed up between them for a while and his schedule was probably the least of it — and more about the eerie quiet of the house. Being single has always leant him an unsettling feeling of isolation. It’s stupid and unhealthy, but Paul loves being in love, and now it’s down to him and the cat. Todd is awesome, but he’s always been a mercenary sort of cat, more interested in food than laps.
“Maybe I can learn something from you, buddy,” he says, patting the animal’s side as he puts his bowl down.
Todd meows happily, and Paul zones out on watching him eat for a minute. He does this thing where he squeezes his eyes shut as he crunches his food that Paul finds stupidly adorable.
He sighs. His life is suffocating, and he can’t imagine it’s going to get better anytime soon.
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- Writer
