Otis by Scott Hildreth

immediately widened, and she raised her hands to her mouth as if in shock.
    “Steve?” she whimpered.
    As our eyes met, it felt as if my heart completely stopped beating. Somehow, in spite of it, I found a way to take the few steps across the floor of the bar and open my arms. As soon as she wrapped her arms around me and rested her face on my chest, my heart began to beat again.
    After a long hug, she released me and pulled away slightly. As she stood in front of me, I glanced up and down her long frame. She looked no differently than she did fifteen years prior. What little she had aged did nothing but add to her beauty. Eventually, I fixed my eyes fixed on her left hand.
    No ring.
    And my heart stopped beating again.

 
     
     
     
    SAM
    I sat in the kitchen wondering if one day an answer would come. I knew - or at least I suspected - my mother’s death would come long before mine; but knowing did little to prepare me for her departure from my life. As I was sure all children did, I wished I had spent more time with her, called her more frequently, and came home on a more regular basis. Changing it now would be impossible, and all I hoped for was to ease what little pain remained.
    I lifted my coffee cup halfway to my mouth and gazed down into the cup. Realizing it was one of the cups I used to drink out as a young girl brought back memories, and as they filtered through my mind, a smile came to my face. Although I was a girl, blonde, and somewhat of a ding-dong, I wasn’t so idiotic or mentally impaired that I wasn’t able to accept her death as being just what it was.
    The completion of her cycle of life.
    No newcomer to losing someone I loved, I grinned and lifted the cup to my mouth with my mind filled with fond memories of my childhood. As my mind slowly searched for even more tender recollections from my youth, her not so dead cat walked into the kitchen and meowed.
    Fucking cat.
    I hated cats. Now, along with everything else in the home, I had inherited a fucking cat. The grey tabby looked like a small version of her larger vermin cousins, and was possessed by none other than the devil himself. In the several days I had spent inventorying the contents of the house and searching for small pieces of my mother’s life, the cat followed me everywhere I went. When I stopped, it stopped. As I worked, it sat and stared at me with golden snake-like eyes that seemed to burn holes through my skin and into my flesh. The one thing that prevented me from stepping on it or placing it out with the many bags of trash was the fact it was my mother’s only true friend, and my single living tie to my mother’s former life.
    “Go away!” I hissed as I swatted my hand in the direction of the filthy feline.
    “Meow!” it responded.
    “No,” I screeched.
    “ This ,” I swatted my hand in her direction again, “Means go away .”
    She meowed again, obviously confused regarding my demand, and began walking toward me. As I watched in sheer horror, she walked alongside the table, turned at the last moment, and before I could lift my leg, slithered to the side and rubbed her body against my shin. The many hours I spent at the gym combined with my quick reflexes paid off in the form of a swift leg extension which sent her sliding across the kitchen floor.
    “Stay over there before I put your sickening ass in the freezer,” I snapped as I stood from my seat.
    I stared down at my leg as if I expected to see my calf withering away from some form of staph infection. After brushing her residue from my skin, I finished my coffee and walked to the sink. Gazing into the back yard provided a rush of memories from my high school years, and the time I had spent with my then lover, Steve.
    If anyone ever was, we were meant for each other. The type of couple that made everyone else sick when we showed up at a party, we were the two people who always finished each other’s sentences, poked food into each other’s mouths, and tasted each