Very Mad Cat The footsteps I hear in the kitchen are light and slow. They’re not Zeb’s. Abe slips into the pantry, quiet as a mouse. Clearly, he’s trying not to be seen by his brother. Though I’d prefer being alone, I’m relieved. I don’t have to worry about Abe talking my ear off, as Georgie does, or pulling my ear off, as Zeb tries to do. Abe sits on the floor and sets Medium Sad Guy in his lap. His face is flush from the bath and his hair is mussed from the towel drying. He’s wearing his pajamas. He smells like apricots. He sits a while without saying a word. It’s soothing, his silence. My eyelids close on their own. I breathe deeply. I feel safe, as if I had a protector. Then Abe moves, and my eyes open. He’s lifting Medium Sad Guy to his ear. He “listens” to it, nods, then sets it back in his lap. He does this with such seriousness that I begin to wonder if somehow the stuffed-rabbit puppet really does speak to him. I’m getting loopy. I desperately need sleep.
