New Cat in Town | Night Cat #0.5

New Cat in Town - Chapter 2

Non-Negotiable

It turned out that the move wasn’t debatable.

Which sucked for me, because I was pretty damned good at negotiating – especially when it came to my mother. Now that I think about it, it was probably the reason why the topic wasn’t up for discussion.

Damn. She was good.

I picked at the slice of apple pie on the table in front of me, frowning at it as if it had sprouted a mouth and insulted me. Across the table, my mother looked, if that was even possible, more disheartened than I did.

“Eat your pie.” She whispered over the table as a pretty, young waitress dressed in a red and white, plaid dress walked by our table, a tray in hand.

“I told you.” I stabbed at the slice of baked goodness with my fork and then squished it into the white plate. “I’m not hungry.”

“Yes you are.” She countered evenly. “I could hear your stomach rumbling in the car. It was even louder than the engine.”

She wasn’t even kidding.

But rather than admit that I was starving and eat my food like a good little boy, I dropped my fork onto the plate with a loud clatter and looked up to stare blankly into my mother’s eyes.

“Don’t be like this, Xander.”

“Be like what? Not hungry?” I snapped irritably. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t aware that it was Eat Or Die Day today. My bad.”

Her expression turned wry.

“This is for the best, Son. We couldn’t stay there. You know that, don’t you? It would have been to hard for us to move on. To forget.”

“What if I don’t want to move on? What if I don’t want to forget? Didn’t you ever think of that, Mom?”

She sighed heavily. “You may not want to but—”

“Hey there!” Startled, we both looked up to see the waitress that had walked by earlier standing by our table, holding a pen and a tiny notepad. Smiling brightly at us, she turned “Can I get you folks anything?”

“We’re good, Dear.” My mom declined politely. “Thanks.”

The girl pouted. “Aw, you sure?” She turned to face me “You look like you could use a bite or something.”

“Sweetheart?” My mother leaned forwards, a sarcastic smile playing on her lips. I frowned. I knew what she was thinking. “His plate’s still full.”

Looking incredibly sheepish, the girl looked away from my face to blink at my tortured slice of pie. "Oh…” she mumbled. “I guess I’ll just get out of your way then…”

As the flustered girl trotted away from our table, my mother giggled softly. For some reason, that little action seemed to tick me off even more. “What was that all about?”

“She was more interested in checking you out than actually doing her job.”

 “And you thought that was the best course of action?” I hissed angrily at her. “To humiliate her? Like there wasn’t another way to go about that.”

My mother’s face fell and she sighed heavily again. “You may not want to forget, son, but I think you need to.”

Gripping my fork tensely, I shook my head. “I don’t want to forget and I certainly don’t need to.”

And with that, I slammed the fork onto my plate, pushed my chair back with an ear piercing screech, and stormed out of the crowded diner – Leaving my mom staring sadly at my retreating figure. A small part of me felt bad for walking out on her while the larger part of my conscience reminded me that if I’d stayed there a moment longer, I would have burst into a fit of anger in the middle of the diner.

And that wouldn’t have been good.

Still fuming, I made a beeline for the car, yanked open the door and hopped in. It took a considerable amount of willpower to keep myself from slamming the car door shut behind me, but after a second’s hesitation I restrained myself. Something about being inside the protect barrier the car’s interior caused the walls I’d put up to suddenly crumble.

All of a sudden, I felt weak. Depressed. Uncaring. All I wanted to do was crawl into the back seat of the car and lie there forever. My mind was filled with images of the night my father died. It felt like I’d been transported back to that night. I could hear screams, and gunshots and cries of anger. My head started to swim and my vision started to go fuzzy. I felt like I was suffocating.

“Xander?” The sound of my mother’s voice ripped me out of that horrific nightmare and back into reality. Blinking, I whipped my head towards the open driver’s seat door, faintly aware that I was drenched in sweat. “Xander, honey? Are you alright?”

“I’m fine.” I waved her concern off gruffly. “It was just a little stuffy in here.”

“Are you sure? You don’t look good, hon.” The worry in her voice was tangible.

“I’m sure. Can we go now, or are we just going to sit here all day?”

Frowning, my mother climbed into the driver’s seat and shut the door behind her. As she put the key in the ignition and started the car up, I snuck a glance in her direction. She looked alright. Annoyed as hell with me, but still alright. She didn’t look sad or depressed or heartbroken. But after that little nightmare episode, it suddenly dawned on me that I wasn’t the only one who was grieving.

True, I had lost my father. But she’d lost something much greater, hadn’t she? She’s lost the man she’d sworn to spend the rest of her life with. The man she’d loved with all her heart and soul for twenty one years. The man she’d had a child with. Her high school sweetheart. Her best friend. Her other half...

She’d lost so much, and she was still more concerned about me than she was herself.

And me? I was the selfish little brat that only thought of himself. That had been wallowing in self pity for a week without being with his mother when she needed him the most.

What kind of son was I?

If I thought my nightmares were bad, hers were probably a thousand times worse.

As we made our way back onto the freeway, I made swore to myself that I was going to stop being sorry for myself and be there for my mom instead. And as much as I hated it, I was going to try and make the best out of this move. I had to, if I wanted to repair the damage in our relationship.

Maybe she was right.

Maybe this was what was best for us.

Because if we’d stayed in Wilson Hill, I definitely would have still been cooped up in my room, ignoring the fact that my mother was crying herself to sleep at night while I blasted rock music and punched walls.

Sighing softly, I found her hand on the gear shift and squeezed it gently.

“I’m sorry.”

When she looked at me, she was blinking back tears. “It’s alright, son.”

“No, it’s not. I was a jerk to you and you don’t deserve that.”

“You just lost your father, Xander.” She choked. “You’re allowed to be upset. It’s only natural.”

“And you just lost your husband.” I countered. “There’s being a jerk, and there’s being a first class a-hole to your grieving mother.”

“Xander…” she tsk-ed at my language.

“I’m sorry mom, but you know it’s true.” The small smile that was tugging the corner of her lips seemed to lighten the load on my chest.

“It’s fine, honey.” She smiled weakly and she overtook a couple of middle-aged men in a pickup truck. “We’ll get through this.”

“Yeah, we will.” I nodded in agreement. “Together.”

And for the first time in a week, when she smiled, her eyes weren’t sad.