“Put out the fliers,” Lee said. “Nobody’s spotted Henry, but I’m sure if somebody’s seen him, they’ll call about it.”
“Well,” Reynold said, finishing up with the shelves. “Chrissy, if you feel like you need to keep moving on with your journey, I’d be more than happy to keep you updated, and take care of Henry when he comes back. But, um, if you feel like you don’t want to move on just yet, I understand that too.”
“I don’t feel right about moving on at least until the storm is completely gone and I know that Henry isn’t just hiding out somewhere,” I said. “But I don’t want to burden you and your wife, Lee.”
Lee shook his head and held up his hand in a gesture that said, “no trouble at all.” Reynold slung his hands into the pockets of his jeans.
“Well, you don’t have to worry about that,” Reynold said. “This old market has an upper attic, which actually used to be a living area back in my father’s time. It’s just a small space—you could call it a studio—but if you want you can stay there for as long as you feel a need to be in Armstrong. All I ask is that you help out around the gas station.”
His offer completely overwhelmed me. “Wow, sir, I mean, Reynold. That’s incredibly generous of you. Yes, I think I’d like that. Truth is, I do like Armstrong, and I think that maybe there’s a reason I ended up here. Hopefully it wasn’t just to lose my cat.”
“You’ll get him back,” Lee said confidently, patting my shoulder. “I feel that.”
Reynold smiled. “You’ll need to clean up the place. It hasn’t been used for anything except storage in decades. I’ll bring in a cot from my house for your bed. If you can handle all that, the place is yours.”
“You sure you’re not just getting Chrissy to do your tidying up for you, Reynold?” Lee laughed.
“I’m more than happy to do it,” I said, brushing a lock of my bangs behind my ear, and then tying the rest into a ponytail. Such a strange mixture of emotions rushed through me. I was excited to stay, but still broken up about Henry’s disappearance. He’ll be back, I thought hopefully. It was all I could really do—be positive. So many bad things had happened recently, but finally some good was coming my way, and I just had to believe that this was only the beginning of it.
Reynold took me to the back of the shop where, behind palettes of beer and energy drinks, a narrow set of stairs rose up to a pull-down attic door. He undid a metal latch on it and swung the door open, and then continued up inside. After fumbling around in the dark for a moment, he switched on a single lightbulb that hung from the ceiling. The place was definitely not much to look at—it was dust and cobweb ridden and packed with stacks of old storage boxes, but it was at least dry.
Reynold went over and pulled back the curtains on the room’s single window, a small rectangle that sat on the far wall opposite the entrance door. Cloudy sunlight streamed in, slanting through the sparkles of dust dancing in the air. Lee, who followed up behind us, let out a monster sneeze.
“You can just move all the boxes into one of the corners,” said Reynold. “The old bed used to be over there.” He pointed to a side wall, and I could see that the wood floor had a slightly different color where the bed was.
“Well, I’d better get to work,” I said, putting my hands on my hips. “If I want a place to sleep by tonight.”
Reynold laughed. “I’ll get you a broom and a vacuum.”
Lucy
I stepped outside from the sunroom to get some fresh air and enjoy the sunshine that was finally starting to peek through the clouds. I’d meant to go to the pet store the day before to buy some supplies for my furry guest, but I’d ended up getting caught by a rare burst of inspiration and spent the day churning out bowl after bowl. The cat didn’t seem to mind—he was using his newspaper cat box and was perfectly happy with being fed scraps of chicken, and spent the whole time lounging around nearby. The little guy was really growing on me, and he’d given me inspiration to work on something again, even if they were just simple bowls.
Plus, it was just nice to have some company.
When I’d found him, I’d had no intention of keeping him. After all, I was only here to try and get my mojo back, not to actually become a crazy cat lady. Now, I was starting to wonder how I could not keep him. I’d held off on naming him—I’d only get attached if I gave him a name—but I didn’t know what options there were for my little guest. I could keep him, or bring him in for someone else to adopt him.
I went back into the sunroom, and the cat bounded up to me, nuzzling his face up against my leg. I crouched down and stroked his head, scratching behind his ears and at his whiskers. He mrred and pushed against my hand, and I smiled. I couldn’t just get rid of you.
A timer dinged. I went over to the kiln, opened it, and pulled out the first bowl I’d made, which was now cool and ready for a glaze. I opened the cabinet with my custom glazes and chose something simple. I wanted to give it an overall dark stain, but with shimmers of opalescent green that would peek out around the interior of the bowl, exactly how my guest’s green eyes contrasted with his dark fur.
He nuzzled up against my leg again and let out a long meow. “What’s the matter, guy?” I said. He looked up at me and meowed again. “Shit,” I said, looking at my watch. It was already getting to be the late afternoon, and he was probably hungry.
I got up, went to the kitchen, and pulled open the fridge.
Double shit. I was out of the leftover chicken.
The fridge was pretty much void of anything else desirable to be eaten by cat or human. I turned around and saw that he’d followed me. “Good thing you’re here,” I said, “otherwise we might’ve both starved to death.” It was a good sign, actually—it’d been a long while since I’d gotten so absorbed in working that I forgot to eat.
“Keys, keys,” I muttered, searching around the house for my car keys until I found them in a random spot in the living room, and then repeated the routine with my wallet.
“Don’t burn the house down,” I said to the cat, who stared at me as I walked out the door, his tail swishing curiously.
I drove down the street until I reached the corner with the gas station and saw Reynold, the old-timer who’d operated the place ever since I could remember, standing out front cleaning debris from the driveway and the sidewalk. He looked up, saw me, and waved. I waved back. A girl, maybe in her early or mid-twenties, came out from the gas station with a push broom and started to help Reynold clean. Reynold didn’t have a kid, so she must’ve been someone from town. It wasn’t usual to see another younger person around Armstrong, so I found myself staring with a little more interest than I normally would’ve. Not to mention, it’d been a while since I’d seen such a pretty face.
No, stop it. I looked away and quickly took the turn, driving off up the street towards the grocery market.
I hated when girls made me feel that way. I felt guilty about it, and I didn’t want to believe that I could feel that way about another woman… but it happened so often.