Carefully, I pull my bottoms up feeling the furry, material stretching, barely clinging to my hips. My headpiece is next. After making sure my ears are straight, I securely tie the strap under my chin. Reluctantly I shrug into a wife beater before donning my shirt. It doesn’t quite reach my tummy anymore. Smiling at my reflection, I raise my paw, swiping the light switch off. Tonight I don’t look like her, tonight I’m a lion. Lions don’t care about phone calls, lions eat phones for breakfast. Bounding down the stairs, I release a fierce roar, instantly quieting the jungle. Sniffing, I stalk towards the kitchen, growling out my warning. My nostrils flair as I spot my prey sitting alone, sweating atop the table. Using both paws, I raise my glass, sloppily chugging ice cold, chocolate milk.

The water’s running makes me look up. I watch her fingers twitch slowly underneath the steaming spray. She’s gone again and it’s all her fault. “Mom?”

“Hmm…”

“Nothin’…Hey, Mom?”

“Yes, hon?”

“Nothin’.”

“Mom?” This time she cuts the water off and turns around sighing, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Ashley Ellie Davies, its three o’clock in the morning! What exactly do you want?”

When she gets that tone, like she’s tired, like I make her tired, it starts inside me, deep. Before I know it happened, I hear the smash, see small silvers of glass twinkling in the light before they fall, disappearing against the tile. I did it again, this time without roaring. In her widened eyes, I can see it, plain as day. The natives are afraid, very afraid.  

* * * * *

No matter what, this is always my first stop. It’s cold, but I get out anyway, leaving the taxi’s warmth in the parking lot. Blowing into my bare hands, I rub them together slowly as I make my way towards the pier. Betting with myself, I pause to light a fresh cigarette, suddenly not sure if winning should mean my key still works. I stare at the water for a long time, just breathing, listening, settling into my home again. Thick cotton unfolds easily as I drape my blanket over me. Instantly, its smell takes me back, my body warms as I remember her lips against my neck, the beautiful blush of her cheeks at my breathlessly whispered words. Her heart beating so hard, I could feel it where my palm pressed lightly against her shirt. That day I watched her watch the sun rise and her awe was my gift. For years I’ve kept it, carefully rewrapping the moment for my darkest days. As I closed my eyes, I used it again, remembering her head titled towards the new sun, her hair glowing gold in its light.   

* * * * *

I’m still awake, but I keep my eyes closed, my breathing even, my back turned. Her bare feet are almost silent against the thick carpet of my room, but I still hear her, feel her leaning over me, hovering. A soft hand tangles in my curls, caressing gently. Beginning softly, she prays, whispering for God’s help, asking Him to keep me safe when she can’t, when I won’t let her. The bed dips as she settles behind me. My body limply rolls closer as her arm surrounds my waist. She rocks us slowly, humming into my hair. Finally, I sleep.   

* * * * *

We both pretend it didn’t happen. We’re good at that now. I’ve learned to let my eyes skim over surfaces, never resting too long. I don’t think about the darkness under her eyes or how she frowns when she thinks I’m not looking. I reread the box out loud, carefully gathering ingredients. Ignoring the small spot of dried blood on her cheek, I reach into the fridge, grabbing the carton of milk. My stomach flutters as it slips in my paw. I look up into her wide eyes, panting. We both know how important this is. There can be no mistakes because blueberry pancakes are the most important thing today, they have to be.