Flawed …Part 8 …Changes

When we least expect it, life sets us a challenge to test our courage and willingness to change; at such a moment, there is no point in pretending that nothing has happened or in saying that we are not yet ready. The challenge will not wait. Life does not look back. A week is more than enough time for us to
decide whether or not to accept our destiny.
― Paulo Coelho

Tux Waiting

There have been a lot of changes lately going on inside me and to the good, I think, because my night terrors have begun to ease.

When I was feeling really uptight I was experiencing tremors in my body, sort of like an engine purring iinside me and I felt hyper vigilant as if anticipating some ill-defined threat.

But those symptoms seem to have subsided and things are coming together in my life

Within a week I'll assume my new post as writer in residence at the college. Am I ready? Probably not, but it seems life has been throwing a number of new challenges at me lately―case in point, Tux.

I went for a hike on a snowbound trail and found a stray cat, or rather he found me. A very elegant cat I should add, black and white―a tuxedo cat whom I not so imaginatively named Tux.

Okay, it's lame and not at all creative considering my profession, but I was trying hard not to get too attached to him, but it seems that's a foregone conclusion.

He's lying on his back in a sunbeam at the moment and when I happen to pass on my way to refill my coffee, he insists I pet him.

So much for keeping my distance. Did I mention, he spends the night sleeping beside me?

This morning I fed the birds he watches, peering through the walkout doors to the yard. I'm telling myself it was to keep him amused so I can write, but truth is, he's pulling compassion out of me I didn't think I had.

And who knows where this will end?

I decide to go the pet store in the mall and buy more cat food as well as check the notice board to see if anyone has posted about a lost cat. I'm hoping no one has, but he's been well cared for in the past and definitely isn't feral, so I'm hoping for the best, in other words, that he can stay with me.

The girl in the pet store is friendly and helps me select his favourite, a good chicken kibble as well as wet food that has chicken as its main ingredient. It's either that or I'll end up having to cook chicken every night for dinner.

It's amazing how adopting a stray can change your whole outlook. Maybe I didn't need to redact my memories so much as get my mind off my own problems onto something else―like caring for someone or something.

I check the store notice board. It features five lost cats but none of them a Tuxedo.

"So, is that everything?" the girl asks, bagging my cat food.

"Oh!" I exclaim, "I just remembered, I need wild bird food."

"What kind are you looking for? We have a seed for all the local bird varieties and black pumpkin seed." She points to two large bags probably weighing 25 pounds each.

"I'll take them both."

The girl smirks as she rings them up. "You must like birds a lot."

I shrug, "Tell the truth, I never really thought about feeding them before, but it's really cold out there. Guess I want to do my part."

She hands me my receipt and smiles, "Thanks for caring about the birds."

It dawns on me I never really cared about much before.

I was kind of like our frat house at university―doors wide open and people free to walk in and out... and everyone disinterested.

That old house just loosed me to the street and its whims and no one really cared or checked up on me, so I ended up not caring myself.

And now, this how I end up―a cat person, caring for birds. Yeah, seems about right.

I stow the pet feed in the back of my SUV and head to the liquor store for wine. If I'm going to babysit Tux tonight, I want to be well-fortified with cab sav.

I no sooner enter the store and am heading for the wine when I hear a voice call out behind me, "Jase Tyler! I don't believe it. How long has it been?"

I turn to see Scarlett Thomas smiling back at me. She had a reputation at university, mostly earned through association with me. The Scarlett Woman, Nat used to call her. I wonder what name the girls had for me?

"Hey Scarlett! Guess it's been a while. How are you doing?"

It's a rhetorical question because it's plain to see she still looks stunning and her designer jeans and tight sweater certainly accentuate all her assets.

"You seem to be doing well," she laughs, "I see your books in all the stores. I take it you're living out loud."

"Who me?" I snort derisively, "Hardly. Nope, I'm just about where I was when you last saw me."

"Really?" She asks surprised, "Still with Emma?"

I nod and lie, "Yeah, we're still together."

"You guys married?"

I hate Twenty Questions and don't feel like playing the catch-up game. That's why I stay off Facebook―can't stand that one-upmanship.

"We're still engaged."

She arches an eyebrow."Really? What's it been―three years?"

"Two actually," I hedge, "It's been kind of hectic getting my writing career started."

"And now your ship has come in," she smirks. "Well, since you're still free you might look me up now and then." She hands me her business card. "I'm working in my dad's real estate business―he's retiring in the spring and wants me to take over the firm."

I'm not surprised. Scarlett was always a mover and shaker―not just on the dance floor, either.

"Good for you, Scarlett. I imagine you'd be a good at selling."

She gives me a sad look. "I always thought we were kinda good together. Might be nice to catch up again. I'm at The Wheatsheaf most Saturday nights. Why not drop by sometime for old times sake?"

"Maybe I will, " I smile, hoping she'll believe the lie.

She leans over and pecks me on the cheek. Lingers just long enough so she can trail the scent of her perfume across my path. "Nothing wrong with having a good time with an old friend," she whispers. "Keep me in mind."

She walks out the automatic doors toward a black Porsche coupe, turning heads of every guy she passes.

"Sexy Scarlett," I hear Zach's voice in my head, warning me off her. She's still free and unattached. I toss her business card in an empty box a young clerk is using to stock the shelves.

Some things are wrong—some partly wrong, and some so close to being right, it hurts. Scarlett is one of them.

I have things I need to take care of and I've closed the door forever on that frat house from my past.

To be continued...

Photo by @countrygirl