When The Time Comes

chapter 3; Lib

The living room smells like piss. It hits me as soon as I open the door. There's a gush of wind that blows past and I hold my hand over my nose and mouth. When I open my eyes, Sadie appears in the kitchen door way with blank eyes. It's a mini stare off until I close the door behind me and drop my bag on the recliner.

"Sadie, what the fuck?"

She does a slow blink. We both know there's no point. Sadie is next to royalty in this house. It doesn't mean she's not on thin ice though.

"Sadie," I sigh, searching for the source. I'm paranoid that I'll step in something. "What the fuck is wrong with you?"

With the way she averts her gaze from me, I swear she can understand everything I say. Cats don't excrete around the house like this. But Sadie isn't normal. I think it's why mom brought her home from work. They're on the same wavelength. She's always hated animals until Sadie strolled out from a bush and past her office building a few dozen times.

Sadie was a street cat for months, maybe even longer than that. I just find it curious that nobody ever tried rescuing Sadie before my mom. So yes, I do believe that out of all people on this planet, my mom had to be the one to save the demented feline. It's why she never complains about the odors.

I light the candle over the fireplace because we don't have any exhaust fans and only something as strong as Sadie's piss can displace it. The apple cinnamon candle is nearly finished, the wick is centimeters from touching the base of the container. Nothing will ever completely get the stench out of the apartment. Sadie's been here way too long now. Her mark is permanent.

I find the puddle by the fridge as I step over Sadie. She meows and scurries out of the room and towards the staircase, stopping midway to glare at me from behind the rails. I throw the kitchen towel on it which is already filthy. It absorbs most of it before I pick it up from the edge, and swing it into the garbage can. The cleaning supplies are in the cupboard under the sink. We bought them over eleven months ago. I know this because I'm the one who ordered them. I shake it before spraying.

I can't help but grimace at how bad it reeks now. It just smells like lemony urine now. I wipe it down with a few tissues and scrub my hands in the sink. I can hear Sadie's paws plop all the way upstairs and above my head. I keep my room locked now that she lives with us. And to let us know what horrible owners we are, she sits in front of it and howls like she's part wolf and she can't stand that there's somewhere she hasn't foiled yet.

I go back for my purse and pull out the envelope that's already semi-torn. I had gotten a chance to read it before work. I wish I hadn't, of course. I don't know how anyone would have coped with the news they were dying and go to work twenty minutes later. All I could think about was how I wanted to quit right there and then. After all, this job isn't going anywhere. On the other hand, I definitely will be.

I'm not thinking of work now. I don't see myself waking up tomorrow morning and driving to The Daily to brew coffee. I felt sick the whole day I was there. Who knew it would take dying to finally be put off by caffeine. The letter feels like a hot brick on my thigh, scalding my skin. I can't get myself to throw it away either. Almost like keeping it will give me a chance of negotiating my death. 

I search reddit on my phone to see what other people are saying. To find others like me. It doesn't take much scrolling before I find them, bewildered like me. I imagine this is how people with terminal illnesses feel except I probably won't be getting a make-a-wish.

Panic radiates through the screen. Even if the words aren't capitalized or littered with exclamation marks, I know how helpless you have to be to type the words,

is there a chance to get our date changed?

Because I want to type them.

I don't, obviously. There are so many others who have already. I read the replies that follow, swallowing everyone's responses like words of wisdom. I don't blink and my thumb keeps moving down and then down again.

Freda5614 says that drinking black seed tea helped her cousin and got her to live a whole extra month.

XXmegatron66 is under almost every comment, trolling and arguing with online strangers.

My heart slows when I read the 456 days ago time stamp on his post. XXmegatron66 had four days to live 456 days ago. I scroll down to look for his last post which is 459 days ago. The discussion doesn't stretch for long after that.

craigwilliams008 says fuck the stag mail and that he will kill himself before his time is up. 

There's a lot of people who agree with him, telling him they're planning to do the same thing. I hover over their messages for a while when Sadie coming down the stairs, breaks me out of thought. I save the post so I can go find it again later. I don't think I have it in me to do something like that but I don't know who I'll be, a day before I'm supposed to die.

Sadie walks through my legs, curling her tail around my shin. I glance down at her and she turns her head to look at me, too. Her eyes are unreadable but eventually, she draws out a blink and meows. I just continue to stare at her which seems to bother her even more so she struts to the other couch, leaping on to and coiling up on the green cushion.

I empty my bag on my lap, letting the small of capsules of milk and cream fall. I scoop out a bunch of disposable cups and take them to the kitchen. Opening the cabinet above the microwave, I stock them in there with the rest of the cups and packets of sugar and tissues. Mom will just have to get by with these now. Especially if I quit The Daily soon. I take out some leftover Chinese from the fridge, reaching past the line of cappuccinos inside. The smell makes me cringe so I take my box and heat the crap out of it, hoping it'll stop smelling like hazelnut syrup.

I finish the noodles on the couch, watching Sadie sleep opposite me. In another life, Sadie would have been a cute cat and I might have even liked her if she wasn't so demented. 

From the back yard door in the kitchen, a cold breeze floats in through the mesh. I dig my feet behind the cushions and huddle into my clothes a little more. Cody, Mrs. Williamsburg's son will be ringing the bell any minute now for his guitar lesson. It would have been his second class this month and I think I've already decided to turn him away today.

My letter says I have two weeks and one day left to live.

Today is almost over which leaves me with exactly 21 days to live.

I'm sorry Cody, but you'll have other people to give you a leg-up into your rockstar life. I just won't be here to see it happen. I leave Mrs. Williamsburg a text message that I can no longer teach her son the guitar and that I'm sorry for the short notice. 

I'm left with soy sauce in the box and my fork. Sadie opens one eye. Clearly unimpressed by what she sees, she closes it again and sighs- the muscles in her neck and back relaxing as she drifts off to sleep once more.

I pepper black eye shadow on to my lids in front of the bathroom mirror, partially obscuring the eyeliner that was already there. With a quick swipe of clear lip gloss, I'm ready to leave. I don't know how the rest of my days will look like but staying home tonight makes my head spin more than what's healthy. Maybe I'll find the answer out there. Maybe I won't.

But I can't sit around like XXmegatron66, cursing out people's vegan recipes and homeopathic medicines on reddit. I want to be around people because strangers always look so care free. Perhaps, being around them, some of it will rub off on me. Maybe if I hang around them long enough, I'll forget about this low hanging axe above my neck and clear the fog in my head. I might find company that's not just Sadie's piss and fur on the cushions.

I run my fingers through my wavy hair, maneuvering out a couple of knots. I feel a few strands pluck out of my scalp, letting them drop as I exit the house. I catch the bus fifteen minutes later and take the seat at the back.