Litle Kitty
1072 Words
I was starting to really like João’s company, and it was mutual—you could tell.
Ária came to say good morning.
"Pretty kitty!"
I hugged her with affection—she was so soft, so silky. Suddenly, I wasn’t exactly myself...
I was her. I was seeing through feline eyes.
What is this?
I could feel, hear—everything. Every detail, every little sound. So, I went exploring.
I jumped off the bed and started looking around.
I heard sounds... things banging... is that... a heartbeat?
I kept sniffing until I found João sitting next to a violin. He could play that too? WOW.
"Hi, kitty. Nice to see you walking around."
Was he talking to me or to Ária? It felt like he knew something more...
That intrigued me.
"Come, let’s take a look outside."
I went, on all fours. Not outside like I imagined, but to the window. I leapt and perched on the windowsill, cautiously watching what was below and the people passing by.
"Did you like the view?"
What was I supposed to do? Meow?
This is... weird.
"I knew you'd like the view. There’s much more waiting for you, when you’re ready."
That’s not something you say to a cat.
---
"Hello?"
Hi, my love. Are you okay?
"Yes, and you?"
"I’m fine. Did something happen?"
"What do you mean, Pedro?"
"It’s just... you don’t usually call..."
"Oh, right... I just needed to talk and get your answer quickly. I’ve got exams in a few weeks and need to prepare better. I missed some deadlines. Did you register?"
"OH NO! I totally lost track... where was my head? Damn. What now?"
"There’ll be other chances, it’s okay. But what about your prep course?"
"What prep course, Paola?"
"The study course…?"
"Oh, it’s going fine. My mom found out about my absences and got mad, but it’s all good now."
"Okay, so I’ll see you soon?"
"Of course. Hey?"
"Yes?"
"I love you..."
"Stop, you don’t mean that, Pedro."
"I do. I love you, my little one."
"I love you too."
And we hung up. Of course, I should’ve noticed that he didn’t really understand when I asked about his course—which was odd—but... he loved me. I was in love. He was too. He knew exactly what to say, how to say it. I felt like the center of his world.
My worry now was the absence—and the longing it would bring. I wanted more of him. I needed him to brighten my days.
But with my absence, he started to drift a little too. "Too much work," "double shifts," "a lot of studying," "helping my mom."
Okay. But he always came back. I had him. And he had me.
---
"Sweetheart? Are you awake?"
"Hey, Dad, you're back? What time is it?"
"Just stopped by to ask if you want a snack? The diner’s still open."
It closed at 2:00 a.m., it was our spot. Neither of us cooked, so we ate there almost every day.
"Let’s go, Dad."
Already in the car, he always brought the same combo:
Two massive burgers with double patties, fully loaded, and a third one we always shared. A strawberry smoothie. Two natural guaranás.
"Look at this, sweetheart."
He turned on the headlights, and we could see a family of rats scattering in the beam.
We laughed without worry.
"Dad, are you going back to the street tonight?"
"The street" meant driving. My dad had been a driver his whole life. One of the best. He was the best. And... he was always working.
He didn’t join anything. He just worked. He’d show up briefly to say he was alive, and then go back to work.
And of course, tonight would be no different.
He told me he was heartbroken—his girlfriend had broken up with him.
"But Dad, you two break up five times a week. You’ll be fine."
"This time I don’t think so..."
Back home, he insisted on covering me with an old zebra-patterned blanket he gave me as a gift. A kiss on the forehead and, "I’ll be back soon."
He’d walk out slowly, turn off the light, close the door, grab his keys, turn off the living room light, lock the door, open the gate, lock the padlock—and I knew every single step.
He’d open the second gate, which made a loud noise. Get in his taxi. Start it. Warm up the engine. Then drive off.
Our days were filled with absence. I had school and work. He had work and more work. But sometimes, he’d show up and bring me something. A lunchbox, a treat, a chocolate.
He insisted on buying me a peanut candy I didn’t like that much, but he thought I did—so I never had the courage to tell him otherwise.
Even my coworkers liked him. He was charming. Friendly.
He always bought movies to watch with me.
We talked a lot—like best friends.
He opened up his heart.
My dad was my friend.
"So, sweetheart, did your mom call you today?"
"No, Dad. Nothing new in paradise. She never calls. Why would she now?"
"We talked yesterday on the phone about you, and I thought she... never mind."
"Yeah, Dad, LET IT GO."
"I’m heading to work, want anything from the street?"
"Dad, if you pass by that downtown diner, could you—"
He cut me off.
"Bring a sausage pastry with onion and a strawberry smoothie?"
I laughed.
"Exactly. Thanks, Dad. Love you."
"I’ll be back soon."
And he always came back.
So before leaving, he’d repeat the ritual: tuck me in, kiss on the forehead...
The keys...
The sound of the keys.
It was always the same sound, every day. The key ring. There were so many keys. Thirty-two keys.
---
The noise... I know that sound.
It’s... keys... the sound of keys...
It’s him!
"DAD? DAD? DAD?"
"Paola? You weren’t listening to me. I’ve been shaking you for a while. Your mouth foamed. I thought I was going to lose you forever."
"João?"
"It’s me."
It’s just... you don’t have me.
You don’t lose what you never had.
The words left my mouth like knives, and one of them hit him right in the heart. He looked at me, stunned, and I swear I saw his eyes glisten, like he was... going to cry.
- Writer
