Serendipity and Me (9781101602805) (21 page)

 

CATNAP

 

The cats are curled

like cinnamon buns

on the floor

 

like you could take

a giant spatula

and lift them

onto the plate

of your chair

 

like their sweetness

would sticky

the flat of your hand

 

like the steam

of their warmth

would rise

in clouds

of aromatic

dreams

 

 

I keep reading

until I'm cat-saturated.

 

It's hard to believe

she wrote

this many poems

about cats.

 

It's hard to believe

I didn't know

this side of her.

 

Does this Dad-offering

mean I'm forgiven

for making him sad?

 

I guess he's reaching out

the best he can

right now

 

sharing a bit of Mom

with me.

 

I wonder if he'll tell me

in his own words

why we can't have a cat.

 

Unless maybe these poems

are supposed to be

his silent answer.

 

Because she loved them.

 

 

 

Inspiration hits.

I am a poet's daughter.

Maybe I can convince my dad

through a poem

that we need this cat.

 

I try to think of how I can write

all the reasons in a poem.

But my mind and the page

stay blank.

 

Serendipity mews near the window

and an idea bursts in my head.

Maybe a field trip

will start my brain working.

 

I grab a notebook and pen

tuck Serendipity under my arm

for her first trip

to the backyard.

 

Right away

when I set her down

she rolls in the dirt.

 

She's not exactly

the princess type.

 

But at least I get

a warm-up poem out of it.

 

 

 

A TRIP OUTSIDE

 

Maybe if you weren't

so white

I wouldn't know when you got

so dirty.

 

You look like a cloud

that is thinking

it ought to rain.

 

You look like a marshmallow

dunked in hot chocolate

and dropped in the dirt.

 

You look like a pile of socks

someone should put

in the wash.

 

 

 

I thought I only

took my eyes off Serendipity

for a second

 

but when I look up from the page

she's gone.

 

I scan the yard.

I call her name.

Does she know her name?

 

I walk the edges in a quick-step

looking behind bushes

up into trees.

 

How could she disappear

so quickly?

 

I think she's too little

to climb the fence

but then I see something

that makes my heart bang:

 

a kitten-sized hole in the fence

the side that leads

to the front of the house

and the street.

 

She could be anywhere.

 

 

 

It's close to dinnertime.

Somehow the light changed

while I've been searching.

 

No sun.

The gray of dusk is closing in

and a feeling of impending fog.

 

I race out the gate

for a quick look in the front yard

but no one is there

 

no little white shape

to turn and greet

or even startle and dash

 

only silence and emptiness.

 

Dad!
I start to yell

before I even get in the front door.

 

I find him in the kitchen.

He turns with the phone in his hand

and a strained expression on his face.

 

I can't find Serendipity.

 

He doesn't seem to take this in.

When were you going to tell me

that Taylor wasn't taking the cat?

 

What?

 

He hangs up/bangs up the phone.

Taylor's mom just called to say

you left your sweater at their house.

I asked her if she'd made her mind up

about Serendipity

and she thought I was kidding.

He throws out his hands.

She's allergic, Sara.

There was never any chance

they were going to take the cat.

 

I'm not sure which disaster is worse—

Serendipity's disappearance

or the uncovering of the plot.

 

Dad, she's gone.

 

Dad looks at me

then shuts his eyes.

I can't abide lying

he says.

Maybe now

things will get back

to normal.

 

 

 

I can't believe what I'm hearing.

Normal? You want things back to normal?

I can feel my voice rising

like a crazy person's.

What was so great about normal, Dad?

I don't remember that

making you happy.

 

Dad's face drops, but his eyes stay stern.

She is not your cat.

You knew that from the start.

How could you sneak around

behind my back?

 

That is too much.

You're a great one for talking

about sneaking around.

I know about you and Mom.

 

Dad closes his eyes like he has a headache.

You're a child.

You don't know anything.

 

That's because you won't
tell
me anything!

 

He shakes his head hard and turns

the usual cowardly direction

toward his room.

 

It's becoming clear—

he's not going to help me find her.

He doesn't care if she's lost forever.

He doesn't care how scared I am.

 

I reach for the doorknob.

I will go outside

and find her myself.

 

He hasn't done

his standard disappearing act yet.

Sara,
he says,
go to your room.

 

My mouth drops open.

No, I have to find her.

 

Go to your room.             Now.

 

I think my heart has just become

a dumping place

for sharp and heavy rocks.

 

How can he be so mean?

She's lost.

 

What's so wrong about wanting

a cat in my life?

 

I shouldn't have to lie

in order to get one.

 

Serendipity is lost

and I'm being sent to my room?