Part 3: 3 - George
1998, Greetings from the other side
Things That Can’t Be Broken is a novel presented as a live draft, one chapter every week.
Last week: Part 3: 2 - Dedication • An unveiling at the bridge
Part 3 | A Storm Blowing from Paradise
3 - George
Lisa Cartwright
August 17, 1998
La Mesa, California
Bleep-bleep. Bleep-bleep. Lisa picked up the little cordless phone from its stand.
“It’s a big one, Lisa. Our girl would be twenty today,” Tim said, from wherever he was on the East Coast.
“Hi Tim. Good to hear your voice.”
He was right on schedule. Birthdays were always hard. Regardless of the distance in their lives, no one understood the impact of this day on each other the way she and Tim did. Even if they rarely touched base at all during the year, the two of them had made an unspoken agreement to always talk on Dani’s birthday.
Tim said, “It was my turn. I’m glad I caught you at home.”
They were both quiet for a long moment.
“So, what have you been up to?” Lisa asked, to break the reverent silence.
“Just working,” said Tim, “You know me. . . I broke it off with Shelby last weekend.”
“Oh,” said Lisa.
That was expected, but Lisa still felt a little uncomfortable with him telling her about his girlfriends. They had an amicable divorce eight years ago, since then, she had been updated when girlfriends came and went. How was she supposed to respond to the news?
She said, “I’m sorry.”
“Yeah,” said Tim. “It doesn’t matter.”
Anxious to change the subject, Lisa said, “I had to put George down a few weeks ago. I tried to call to let you know.”
“I got your message. I meant to get back to you,” said Tim. “I’m really sorry. . . ”
And he did sound sorry.
“He was seventeen, you know. Kidney trouble. It was so hard. I didn’t know it would be so hard,” Lisa said.
“You never even liked that cat, the way I remember,” said Tim. “But I guess you and George had been roomies for a long time.”
Lisa surprised herself and added, “There was something about him. I miss having him around.”
“Dani loved him,” said Tim.
“Yes. She did. I’m sure that’s it,” said Lisa. “And I got used to him always being here.”
Was there more to it than that? Sometimes the cat seemed to look at her with such intelligence, she almost expected him to speak. Other times, he would leap into her lap, then crawl up to her shoulder and disarm her like a . . . Like a child who just woke up from a bad dream, in need of a cuddle.
“Maybe you should get another cat,” Tim said.
“No,” said Lisa, “Don’t get carried away. I thought about it for half a minute, but no. I think it was George I got used to, not having a cat. How about you? Have you thought about getting another dog?”
“Now and then,” said Tim, “But you know, it wouldn’t be fair. I’m rarely home.”
“That’s the truth. I can almost never reach you on the phone,” she let out a halfhearted laugh.
“What are you up to, Lisa? Last time we talked, you were making and selling cat toys.”
“I was. I was donating the proceeds to The Compassionate Friends, but without George. . .”
“Another reason for a kitten?” Tim’s charm was working on her. If he kept it up, she might find herself at a pet store today—with regrets tomorrow.
“No, no. I still might get back to the kites, who knows, but it seems I’ve taken on some different work. It sort of landed on me out of my connection with The Compassionate Friends. I mentioned my mom at a meeting and, well . . .
There are a lot of missing people out there, as you know. I made some business cards. One of the clerks hands them out at the Sheriff’s office. I’ve been helping the families where I can, getting them connected with resources, mostly local counselors, that kind of thing.”
“That sounds like heavy work,” said Tim.
“It is, but it has its rewards. Last week, I received a letter from a woman whose sixteen-year-old son was found. He was fifteen when he ran away from home. He’s gay. He didn’t think his family would understand. It’s a common story. Nothing is perfect, but you know, it feels good when you get a letter like that. There is real hope for this young man and his family.”
“I’m proud for you,” said Tim. “You’re getting yourself out there, helping people. It doesn’t surprise me.”
Lisa could hear his smile. She said, “It’s not all that. I need to do more, but thank you. I couldn’t do it if you weren’t providing the support you do. That and the house being paid for.”
“Well, I’ve got these Times Square CEOs believing I’m a magician if they throw enough money at me, so, you’re welcome.”
Lisa felt the old warmth for her school buddy, “You are a magician.”
Tim laughed, “I have them all fooled—but it is fun.”
“Spoken like a true creative,” said Lisa. “Do you ever wonder what Dani would be doing right now, what her life might have been like?”
“I don’t run across many horses here,” said Tim, “But when I do see one, usually around Central Park, I always wonder.”
“You think she would still be into horses?”
“I do. You don’t?” Tim asked.
Lisa pulled out a load of laundry from the closet to sort. “Well, she would probably be in college. She was so smart.”
“Yeah,” said Tim. “I can see her studying something to do with horses, maybe veterinary school. What do you think?”
“Remember how she was at the park? She would show people kites and get them talking to each other. . .” Lisa said.
Tim laughed, “She would be a hell of a salesperson.”
Lisa felt lifted. “I was thinking diplomat.” She laughed. “Dani would join right in the conversation to help them decide together to buy a kite.”
They both laughed tears full of memories.
Tim said, “A diplomat. I can definitely see that. Remember how she would tell us long extended stories about what happened next after the end of a movie? Hey, maybe she would have been a storyteller, like that one in the park.”
“That was an anti-bedtime tactic.” Lisa laughed, and then paused for a moment, her mind suddenly flooded with layers of memories, generations piled atop one another. “Miss Clara. . . You know, it’s funny you should mention the storyteller. I found her address just the other day, the one she wrote down for me? It was in the pocket of my old yellow cardigan. George always slept on it in the closet. I was going to wash it and give it to Goodwill. When I checked the pockets, there was that scribbled note Miss Clara gave me that day with Dani”
“Do you think she still lives there?” Tim asked.
“I don’t know. I imagine she’s lived there a very long time,” said Lisa, “It’s near the park.”
“Maybe it’s a sign,” said Tim, working his charm again. “Maybe you should go see her.”
Lisa sighed. “What would I say? If she even still lives there. . .But yeah, I was actually thinking about it. I even put the slip of paper in my wallet. Maybe I will.”
“Didn’t she say she had a story for you? I’ll be interested to hear about it if you do go,” said Tim. There was a pause and then he said, “Hey, I’m sorry. I’ve gotta run. I have a one-o’clock. I’m glad we caught up.”
Lisa’s heart dipped and she had to force herself to brighten. “I think she would like us keeping in touch. Happy birthday, Dani.”
“Happy birthday, Dani,” Tim responded.
Lisa sighed, “Thank you for calling, Tim.”
“Of course. It’s important. Dani is always going to be a part of our lives. We’ll talk again some time before next year, I’m sure,” said Tim.
“I’m sure we will,” said Lisa. “Take care of yourself.”
“You too,” said Tim.
Lisa pressed the end button and stared at the now silent phone for a moment before placing it back in its stand. She turned the kettle on and pulled out a tin of her best jasmine tea. Scooping out a small spoonful into her tea ball, she set it into her cup where it made a peaceful jingle. She felt better after talking to Tim, at least for a little while. The comfort wouldn’t last.
She would cling to him if he were here, drown him as sure as a shipwreck. The comfort he provided was so foreign to her everyday state. She forgot the broken pieces that made up her daily life until she felt that sudden wholeness talking to him. She had to get by on her own. No day was all easy, but the emptiness had become just a part of who she was. And now she had to do it without George. It’s so funny; he was just an old cat. She looked for him all the time now, often imagining she caught sight of his fluffy tail going around the corner.
Tim always seemed fine. He could talk about Dani, say all the right things. His words were too easy, like Dani was a character in someone else’s story. How could it be that easy for him?
The tea kettle whistled. She poured the steamy water into her cup. At the beginning of this nightmare, Tim fought hard with hope for Dani when there was a chance that she might be alive somewhere. After they found out she was gone, it was like everything was wrung from his soul at once. The poison was purged and he went on living while she continued to experience grief as an ongoing slow march. Is that even possible? Can a parent grieve a child in one mighty swell, one rogue wave?
People are not constants, Lisa reminded herself. He must have bad days, too. He was always more productive when he was trying not to think about something. A flipped switch. Maybe that’s what was behind his seemingly boundless career.
Lisa pulled idly at the ring of her tea ball, breathing in the now fragrant steam. She looked at her purse on the table, thinking of the note in her wallet and trying to picture herself going to the park again, knocking on the door unexpected. It would be awkward at the very least—possibly painful. Maybe Miss Clara wouldn’t be there.
Ding-dong.
She went to the door to find her friends, Allison and Mary. Mary held out a pink bakery box. Tears welled in Lisa’s eyes through her smile.
“Come in, come in! I’ll make some more tea.”
Next
Part 3 | A Storm Blowing from Paradise
4 - Dust Bunnies
Behind-the-Scenes Extra
Here I am, sad now, thinking about little George. But it’s okay, he’s with Dani.
George has had a bigger role in this story than originally planned. When he was first added, it was only as a way for you to know that Dani loves all animals and is naturally inclined to empathize and interact with them. He let himself into the story, as cats tend to let themselves into our lives.
We have three cats. Or they have us, as it turns out. I always thought of myself as a dog person, though I wouldn’t say I was ever “not” a cat person. I had an orange cat for a short time when my daughter was in preschool, and there was the kitten that I surprise! brought home one day from the stable when I was a young teen. I was allowed to keep her for a weekend. But this is the first set of cats I’ve had for any length of time. They’re all about eight years old now.
I’m not the best cat-mom by some standards. They have everything they need and I clean the litter box daily, but I do let them go outside for a few hours every day. There is a real chance one day they will not come home. The thought scares me sometimes, and as they get older I know there will come a time when they become strictly indoor cats. But for perspective, I also let my kids drive cars when they turned sixteen. All three of them have gone out into the wild, amongst very real dangers, and sometimes they have been gone for longer than we would have liked, but for the most part, they still come home on a regular basis—both the grown kids and the cats.
It’s a frightening risky life. We have to live it. And we have it to live.
As always, thank you so much for reading!
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Ok, this?
"It’s a frightening risky life. We have to live it. And we have it to live."
I'm not sure I've read a set of more perfect words in a long, long time. 😊
This was emotional, raw, and so good 🤍