It was a lousy birthday, and it only got worse when Mer showed up at eight that night, wearing a long, bright pink coat, cheetah print heels, and a look on her face that spelled trouble. Gia was stripped down to her Cinderellas, clutching a balloon by its string, and demanding Noah carry her everywhere. Bed time could not come soon enough, and Noah still had to work the night shift.
“Happy Birthday, Gia Bug!” Mer crooned, leaning in for a kiss, which Gia happily gave her. Mercedes was trying to hide her excitement. She was hiding something in the deep V of her trench coat, and when a small mewl escaped, Gia gasped, and Noah groaned.
“Oh, Mer. What have you done?”
He knew exactly what she’d done. She’d bought Gia a kitten for her birthday.
“He’ll be a good mouser,” Mercedes said.
“I don’t have mice,” Noah retorted.
“But you have ants!”
“You’re never going to let that go, are you? My house was a mess one time last July, and you’re never going to let me forget it,” he complained.
“I will. I will never mention ants again . . . if you’ll keep an open mind about Oscar,” she promised.
“You named a . . . cat . . . after your dad?”
Mercedes nodded enthusiastically and withdrew a small, black kitten from inside her coat.
“He’s a little boy cat, and he has black hair and a gentle personality. Just like Papi. He will be a perfect playmate for Gia. Having a pet will be good for her. You’ll see. And he’s litter-box trained. I bought all the supplies. You won’t have to worry about a thing. I bought him a bed, a litter box, a huge container of kitty litter, and one of those fifty-pound bags of cat food. It’ll last a year. You won’t even know Oscar is here, except that he’ll keep Gia entertained so you can get something done.”
Noah groaned again. He didn’t want anyone or anything else to take care of, but Gia had grown still in his arms. She stared at the tiny, black cat, her little jaw dropping, her blue eyes so big Noah bit his lip so he wouldn’t laugh.
“Kitty,” she whispered reverently.
Mercedes put the kitten down on the kitchen floor and Noah released Gia as well, setting her on her sturdy little legs and stepping back.
“Hi, Kitty,” she squeaked, extending her chubby fingers to touch the black ball of fluff quivering before her.
Mercedes looked at Noah with shining eyes, and Noah sighed and scrubbed at his beard with both hands, knowing he was screwed.
“He had his first vaccination yesterday. He’ll need another one in four weeks and another when he’s sixteen weeks. But I’ll take care of it. Don’t worry. And I got him one of those scratching pole thingies so he won’t rip up the furniture,” Mercedes reassured.
Noah groaned again. “Mer . . . I really wish you hadn’t done this.”
“I am prepared to bring Oscar back to my house if you really don’t want him. But look at Gia, Noah. She loves him.”
Gia was on her knees, her bottom in the air, her cheek to the floor so she was as close to the kitten as possible. The kitten was sniffing her face suspiciously.
“I don’t want cat hair all over everything,” Noah grumbled.
“I’ll vacuum the furniture and all the floors every Monday when I’m here.”
“You do that already.”
“You’re right. I do. I totally deserve this, Noah. Come on, please?” Mercedes wheedled, hands clasped beneath her chin, staring up at him mournfully with her heavily-lashed, brown eyes.
“If you deserve it, why is it living at my house?”
“Because I’m here more than I’m at home. And I bought him for Gia.”
“You are here an awful lot. Why is that?” he teased. “Go home, woman.”
She rolled her eyes. “You need me. That’s why.” Then she smiled, teeth flashing, dimples framing her pink lips. “You’re going to let her keep him, aren’t you?”
“You know I am. Was there ever any question? You always get your way, Mer.”
She rolled her eyes again. “Ha! When? I can’t think of very many times when Mercedes Lopez got what she wanted just because she wanted it. I can think of all the times I worked my ass off and made something happen,” she huffed.
Noah leaned over and kissed her forehead. “Thank you for the kitten that I didn’t want.”
“You’re welcome. Now where are those cupcakes?”
Noah straightened the kitchen—and set out a cupcake for Mer—while Mercedes and Gia got the kitten situated. Gia was carrying Oscar under one arm, telling him all the words she knew, which was a considerable amount for a two-year-old. Noah didn’t know what was normal, but his daughter seemed to be especially verbal for her age. Mercedes had kicked off her stilettos and was pouring kitty litter into a box, explaining to both Gia and Oscar what it was for. Then she took Oscar from Gia and set him in the box.
“Go potty, Oscar,” she ordered.
The kitten sniffed around for three seconds before his little tail rose obediently, and he squatted to do his business. Even the cat couldn’t say no to Mercedes, Noah thought to himself. Mercedes clapped as Oscar buried his very small pile of poop—Gia clapped too—and they proceeded to fill the cat bowls with water and kitten kibble.
When Gia chased Oscar into the family room, Noah and Mercedes followed, sinking down onto the couch to watch them play. Noah found himself watching Mercedes eat her cupcake instead, grateful that she’d saved Gia’s birthday from being a total bomb, even if it meant he was now the unhappy owner of a cat.
“You always know what to do,” he said. “That’s a talent. You show up and make everything better.”
“Really?” He’d pleased her.
“Yes. Today was a total fail. You saved the day,” he admitted.
“I stole the scene.” She stood up and took a bow before plopping back down beside him and licking the frosting from her fingers.
“You sure did. Tell me something, Mer. How long have you wanted a cat?”
She laughed. “I’ve wanted a cat since I was ten.”
“I thought so. Remember those kittens they were giving away in front of Albertson’s Grocery Store that one time?” he asked.
“There was only one left. He was grey and fluffy. Cora and I were in love, and you weren’t interested.”
“My load was heavy, even then. I didn’t want any more responsibility than I already had. I haven’t changed much.”
“I wanted that kitten, but I knew I would have to ask Mami. I had to wait for her to get home from work.”
“But Cora beat you to it.”
“Yep. Cora didn’t ask her mom. She just brought the kitten home. She named him Popeye, and he disappeared about a month later.”
They were both silent for a moment, remembering.
“Didn’t you ever notice that whatever you wanted or whatever you set out to do, Cora wanted to do it too?” Noah asked.
“She wasn’t like that.”
“She was, Mer. And it’s okay to admit it. One of the hardest things about Cora dying is that everyone wants to erase her—the real Cora. They talk about her as though she were perfect. She wasn’t. ‘Don’t talk ill of the dead,’ people say. But if we aren’t truthful about who our loved ones were, then we aren’t really remembering them. We’re creating someone who didn’t exist. Cora loved you. She loved me. But what she did was not okay. And I’m pissed off about it.”
Mercedes reeled back, stunned. “Geez, Noah. Tell me how you really feel. She still deserves our compassion,” she rebuked.
He nodded. “Everyone deserves compassion. And I know suicide isn’t always a conscious act. Most of the time it’s sheer desperation. It’s a moment of weakness that we can’t come back from. But regardless of illness or weakness, if we don’t own our actions and don’t demand that others own theirs, then what’s the point? We might as well give up now. We have to expect better of ourselves. We have to. I expect more of my patients, and when I expect more—lovingly, patiently—they tend to rise to that expectation. Maybe not all the way up, but they rise. They improve because I believe they can, and I believe they must. My mom was sick. But she didn’t try hard enough to get better. She found a way to cope—and that’s important—but she never varied from it. Life has to be more than coping. It has to be.”
Mercedes nodded slowly, her eyes clinging to his impassioned face. She’d struck a nerve, and he wasn’t finished.
“I know it’s not something we’re supposed to say. We’re supposed to be all-loving and all-compassionate all the time. But sometimes the things we aren’t supposed to say are the truths that keep us sane, that tether us to reality, that help us move the hell on! I know some of my colleagues would be shocked to hear it. But pressure—whether it’s the pressure of society, or the pressure of responsibility, or the pressure that comes with being loved and being needed—isn’t always a bad thing. You’ve heard the cliché about pressure and diamonds. It’s a cliché because it’s true. Pressure sometimes begets beautiful things.”
Mercedes was silent, studying his handsome face, his tight shoulders, and his clenched fists. He was weary, that much was obvious, but he wasn’t wrong.
“Begets?” she asked, a twinkle in her eye.
He rolled his eyes. “You know damn well what beget means.”
“In the Bible, beget means to give birth to. I wouldn’t mind giving birth to a diamond,” she mused.
“You ruin all my best lectures.”
There was silence from the kitchen. Silence was not good.
“Gia?” Noah called.
“What, Daddy?” she answered sweetly.
“Are you pooping in your new princess panties?”
“No. Poopin’ in box.”
“What box?” His voice rose in horror.
“Kitty box.”
Noah was on his feet, racing toward the kitchen. Mercedes followed.
Gia was naked—her Cinderella panties abandoned in the middle of the floor—and perched above the new litter box.
“No!” Noah roared in horror, scooping her up and marching to the toilet.
“Maybe it won’t be a turd, Noah. Maybe Gia will beget a diamond,” Mercedes chirped, trying not to laugh.
“I blame you, Mer!” he called from the bathroom. “She was almost potty-trained, and now she wants to be a cat!”
* * *
A guilty conscience and a kitten that was more up to date on his shots than his two-year-old, had Noah making an appointment for a well-child check with Gia’s pediatrician. Noah had looked through the filing cabinet and found Gia’s immunization record—she’d had a well-check exactly one year before—and bundled her up, feeling compassion for his wife, who’d gone to every checkup without him and cried her heart out over the pain she’d inflected on their daughter.