Theresa Weir: The Girl with the Cat Tattoo

And then they left.

“I’m not going to shut him in the bathroom for two weeks,” Melody said, her voice fretful.

“That does seem extreme,” Joe said.

“I think it’s the change in routine.”

“You mean my staying over?”

“I’m just so worried. I never thought about anything happening to Max. Not for years anyway.”

“I have the feeling everything is going to be okay.”

That was something Max had been trying unsuccessfully to tell Melody for a long time.

Joe pulled up in front of Melody and Max’s house. Max couldn’t wait to get inside. He was quiet now, calm, but full of anticipation.

“The blood tests were just a precaution,” Joe said.

Instead of breaking them up, the trip to the vet seemed to have brought them closer together. And Joe’s concern and support had Max confused about dumping him.

Max may have been unsuccessful in getting rid of Joe, but that night, after Melody got off work, things were more like the old days. She brought him a treat and a special blend of organic catnip that made him go crazy for a full thirty minutes. Afterward, he and Melody watched television on the couch. There was almost no talk of Joe, and that night Max wasn’t shut out of the bedroom. Instead, he took his rightful place on the pillow next to Melody’s head.

Melody scratched his nose the way he liked. “Just you and me.”

But she sounded a little sad. Max almost wished he’d never found the gun.

Melody dropped a pile of folded T-shirts into a cardboard box. “It’s called purging,” she told Max.

The house was still filled with David’s stuff. His shirts and pants and jackets still hung in the bedroom closet, and his jogging shoes sat on the floor in a neat row, as if he would come home at any moment.

Max meowed and circled once, arching his back, legs stiff.

“I know it’s unsettling,” Melody told him, “but it’s something I should have done a long time ago.”

It had been too hard right after David was killed. It hadn’t seemed right. Almost like she was throwing him away. And then later it was hard for a different reason, almost as if saying she’d forgotten him.

But she hadn’t.

She wouldn’t.

But keeping his clothes in the closet was just plain weird. And maybe a little crazy.

Max’s health scare had been a wake-up call for Melody. It made her realize that she cared for Joe even though she hadn’t known him that long. His being there when she’d taken Max to the vet, and his support afterward, went a long way toward proving he might be the right guy for her. How many men would have been so concerned about Max? None. And how many would have called or stopped by every day until the blood tests came back negative? None.

She’d been hiding. Maybe not physically, but mentally. Burying herself in work and the occasional awful night out with friends that almost always ended up with a stranger and a hangover. That wasn’t who she was.

She had to move on.

A knock at the front door was followed by a “Hello!” and a “Just me!”

“In here!” Melody shouted over her shoulder.

“I have coffee. Oh, hi Max.” Melody’s sister sidestepped Max and offered Melody a carryout cup from the shop up the street called Java Train. “Looks like you’re making headway.” Lola was dressed in cuffed jeans and a bright print top that showed off the tattoos on her arms. Her dark hair was pulled back in a ponytail, her head wrapped in a vintage orange scarf. You knew she was an artist the moment you saw her.

“The boxes are for Goodwill,” Melody said. “The trash bags-well, trash.”

Lola didn’t say it, but Melody sensed that her sister was relieved that this day had finally come. It was a concern that had gone unspoken among the whole family. They worried that Melody might never move on, might never be able to let go of David, even a little. Now the sisters chatted a while, drank their coffee, petted Max, then got down to business.

“Everything on the top shelf can stay.” Melody pointed. “I’ve already gone through it.”

“Is that David’s old laptop?” Lola pointed.

Melody nodded. She was an Apple girl, and the laptop was a Dell. More of a business model.

“Can I borrow it?” Lola asked. “Mine is in for repair, and it looks like it might be a while. They had to order a part.”

Melody reached up and retrieved the computer. “Go ahead.” She handed it to Lola. “You’ll have to charge it. It hasn’t been turned on since David died.”

The front door slammed again, and a male voice shouted, “Anybody home?”

Lola looked guilty. “I told him we were getting rid of some things, and he wanted to help.”

Their dad appeared in the doorway of the bedroom. Ben looked rugged and handsome with his wavy, graying hair, patched jeans, and leather sandals. They were a crew of bohemians, and unbelievably Melody was the most conservative of the bunch.

“I have the band’s van,” Ben said. “We can fill it up and I’ll take everything to wherever you want it to go.” He gave Melody a hug. He smelled like incense and secondhand smoke.

“Don’t you have a gig tonight?” she asked.

“We don’t load in until late afternoon. Either of you girls coming? You might like the opening band.”

It had been a while since Melody had gone to one of her dad’s shows. He was in several bands, and sometimes it was hard to keep up. Now that she thought about it, she hadn’t seen him play since David’s death. “I might do that.”

Once the purge was in motion, things moved quickly and in a matter of two hours the van was full.

That’s when Joe showed up.

As soon as he entered the house, it was easy to see he wanted to turn around and run. “I didn’t mean to intrude,” he said, managing to pull himself together after unintentionally stepping into what was obviously a family gathering. “I stopped to see how Max was doing.”

Introductions were made. Of course father and sister were curious about Melody’s new guy, but that curiosity seemed to go especially deep for Ben who couldn’t quit staring at Joe. He finally broke down and said: “You look really familiar. Have we met somewhere?”

Joe shifted uneasily. “Not that I can recall.”

“Are you in a band?”

“No.”

“Dad’s a musician,” Melody explained. “Maybe he saw you at a show.”

Melody was once again reminded that she knew very little about Joe, not even what kind of music he listened to, if any. If he like country, the bad kind of country… Wow. That would be tough.

Joe left as soon as he possibly could without coming across as rude. Hands on his hips, Ben watched the younger man’s departure through the living room window. “I’ve seen him before.”

A feeling of unease crept through Melody.

Outside a car door slammed, an engine turned over, and Joe pulled away from the curb and roared down the street.

“Remember Chris, my old bandmate?” Ben turned around. “The one whose kid got tangled up with the gang that was busted for illegal firearms? I’m pretty sure your buddy Joe was involved in that somehow. He was hanging around some of those seedy people.”

Melody’s first reaction was one of disbelief. But then she started thinking about the very things that had been bugging her about Joe. If what her dad said was true, it would explain a lot. Why Joe never talked about himself. Why she’d never gone to his place. Maybe he was a drug dealer. Maybe he was dealing out of his house.

From the kitchen, water stopped splashing in the sink. A moment later Lola appeared, drying her hand on a white towel with pink cats. Her gaze shifted from Ben to Melody. “What’s this about Joe?”