Page 36 of Ghost Of You
With considerable effort, I push myself off the floor, flush the toilet, and wipe my mouth with a tissue. As I toss it into the bin, I decide it’s time to salvage what’s left of my dignity. I brush my teeth vigorously, desperate to rid myself of the vile taste of my own regurgitation. If I’m going to be near Laelia, I don’t want her to mistake me for a walking bio-hazard.
I open the cupboard and retrieve a packet of Paracetamol. After popping two tablets and swallowing them with a tiny cup of water, I feel a faint glimmer of hope that they might ease my pounding headache. I shut the cupboard door and head back into the bedroom, where I find an empty bed. Where could she be?
Dressing quickly in a somewhat haphazard manner, I stumble downstairs. In the living room, I find Laelia sprawled on the sofa with Meatball curled up at the other end. The sight warms my heart a little. Meatball’s loyalty is unwavering; ever since we brought him home, he’s been Laelia’s shadow. I’m convinced he loves her more than me—he even snubs me in favour of her.
20th January 2020
I knock on the pale green door, watching Laelia as she paces impatiently. Her excitement is palpable, like a kid on Christmas Eve. For the past week and a half, she’s been counting down the days, marking them off on her calendar with an alarm that goes off at random intervals. I swear I’ve heard that alarm more times than I’ve heard my own name.
After a month of Laelia’s relentless campaigning, I finally caved and agreed to get a cat. Normally, I’m more of a dog person. If it were up to me, we’d have a West Highland Terrier named Oggie. But, for Laelia, I’m sacrificing my dream of a fluffy dog for a feline fur-ball.
As soon as I said “yes,” Laelia went on a cat hunt, scouring every RSPCA shelter and animal adoption website she could find. After hours of online browsing, she found Elaine, a woman with a litter of six kittens, one of which was the elusive ginger tabby Laelia had her heart set on.
Laelia has been chatting non-stop with Elaine, asking about vaccinations, micro-chipping, and other cat-related minutiae. I let Laelia handle the details, which meant I’ve been subjected toendless lists of ridiculous names for the cat. Felix? Tom? Fish? Really? The cat isn’t even black and white, so Felix is out, and naming a cat after Tom and Jerry is just absurd. And Fish? No, just no.
Laelia is practically bouncing on her toes as she glances at me with a mixture of impatience and excitement. “How long is this going to take? I want him!” she whines, making a face that says she’s not above giving me the puppy eyes.
Before I can respond, the door swings open to reveal a woman in her early forties, who I assume is Elaine. “Hi, can I help you?” she asks with a friendly smile.
I manage a weak smile in return. “Hi, we’re here about the ginger tabby.”
Elaine’s face lights up like a Christmas tree. “Oh, you must be here for him! Come on in!” She ushers us inside and directs us to the living room, where she invites us to sit.
Laelia’s smile is so wide it’s almost unnerving. If anyone else looked at me like that, I’d be convinced they were plotting my demise. “Don’t you dare say anything,” she hisses in a whisper just for me, reading my thoughts.
Elaine grabs a folder and flips through it while Laelia and I sit on the sofa. “Just the one?” Elaine asks, looking between us.
“Yeah,” I reply. “Just the one.” Laelia’s eyes dart to me, clearly disappointed by my answer. I’m not taking on more than one kitten; that’s not up for debate.
Elaine rises and gestures for us to follow her to the kitchen, where a small pen comes into view. Laelia practically leaps over me, rushing to peer into the pen.
Her eyes widen with delight. “Oh my God! Look at them!” she exclaims, practically glowing with joy. “Killian, look! That’s him! He looks like a meatball! Oh my God! That’s what we’re naming him! Meatball!”
I peer into the pen and see a bundle of kittens, all snuggled together in a pile of fluff. They’re adorable, but I can’t help but wonder if they’ll turn out to be little devils like Trevor, the cat from my childhood who terrorised my goldfish. My mum’s cat, Trevor, was a demon in disguise. He made quick work of all my goldfish—Frank, Bobby, Goldie, Flippers, Bubbles, and Chester—each of whom met a watery end at Trevor’s paws.
Laelia is already lost in her own world of kitten adoration, naming the ginger tabby “Meatball” without a hint of hesitation. “He’s perfect,” she beams, eyes locked on the little fur-ball as it stretches and yawns.
Elaine, noticing my reluctant acceptance of the name, smiles warmly. “I’ll get the paperwork ready,” she says and disappears to fetch it.
I watch as Laelia cuddles Meatball, who purrs contentedly in her arms. I reach out to pet him, but he hisses at me with the intensity of a grumpy old man. Great, just what I needed—a cat with a vendetta.
As Elaine returns with the paperwork, I can’t help but feel a twinge of resignation. This cat, with his snarly little hiss and adorably wicked eyes, is going to be the centre of our lives. I just hope he doesn’t turn out to be a reincarnation of my childhood nemesis.
Laelia looks at me with those “I told you so” eyes, and I know there’s no turning back now. “He’s perfect,” she repeats, and I reluctantly agree.
Elaine beams at us. “That’s wonderful! I’ll finalise everything, and you can take him home today.”
I glance at Laelia and the kitten, feeling a strange mix of dread and affection. Looks like we’re in for a new chapter, with Meatball at the heart of it. And who knows? Maybe this little fur-ball will turn out to be less of a menace and more of a beloved member of our odd little family.
Chapter eighteen
Present
Wrapped in a blanket on the sofa, all curled up, Laelia has been there all day, barely moving except for the occasional trip to the bathroom or change of clothes. The house, usually vibrant with her energy, feels eerily quiet. I’ve cancelled all my clients for the week to care for her, but not without informing Ethan of the situation. The conversation left a bitter taste in my mouth; his response was not just curt but dismissive, almost as if he were begrudging me my time off. I can’t help but feel that his attitude might stem from jealousy or a misplaced sense of superiority, especially given his track record with relationships.
Ethan’s words replay in my mind.“You've already had a lot of time off work! You need to get back to normal now, Killian.”He had no right to judge my situation. His criticisms seemed to come from a place of irritation rather than genuine concern. “If we have to pay back every client you are cancelling and rearranging, we are going to end up struggling.”He’s right to some extent, but it’s not like I have a choice. My family’s needs come first.
I understand Ethan’s concern for the business, but it’s frustrating when he doesn’t seem to grasp the gravity of what’s happening at home. Laelia is my fiance, carrying our child. If she’s unwell, it’s my responsibility to care for her, not to mention the fact that her health directly impacts our unborn baby. It’s a different kind of commitment, one Ethan seems to struggle to appreciate.