(Daddy/Ben, February, 28 months since Kitten and Daddy started dating, six months since Chapter 10)
I walked into my house and shivered. Everything was such a blur when I left that I must have forgotten to set the automatic timers. And I never trusted "smart" houses. The last thing I needed was some asshole hacker trying to kill me in my sleep by turning on the oven and burning down the house.
I made a quick adjustment on the heating panel and then headed to the living room's fireplace. Winter in Kingston wasn't bitter like the prairies or the arctic but was cold and damp enough. A fire would keep us warm until the heaters got the rest of the house liveable.
It also gave me something to do. Having something to focus on had become an essential thing for me in the last few weeks.
I heard the presence of the other two people coming into the house. One moved into the kitchen and began rustling around. I was betting it was Meg using the pretext of the cold to steal some more of my expensive coffee. The other came behind me and rested her small hand on my shoulder.
"Are you ok, Daddy?" she asked.
Kitten had been asking me that a lot the last few weeks. It was a reflex for her by now, and I could almost feel her regret asking it once again. However, my response was pretty rote by now.
"I'm fine, Kitten. Don't worry," I said.
There was zero chance that Kitten and Meg were not worried about me. They'd been a constant presence for weeks, and I hadn't been alone for more than a few minutes without one of them near me, keeping an eye on me to make sure I was ok.
I would be frustrated with the hovering if I didn't understand why they were doing it. Past precedent has shown I don't handle the death of a loved one well. And I had just lost my mother.
With the fire going, I stood up, gave Kitten what I hoped was a reassuring kiss on the head. Then I turned and limped over to the window. The cold and damp were doing a number on my knee, so I leaned on my cane more than usual. It was dark out, so it's not like I could see much. But at that moment, I just wanted to stare into space and get my thoughts in order. The window worked as well as anything else.
I could feel Kitten wanting to do something more for me, but instead gave me the space I needed. She backed off and went to the kitchen to help Meg fuss with things. But I could still feel them looking at me from time to time, making sure I was all right.
I sighed and reflected on the last few weeks. I took comfort that I could remember my mother's funeral.
Beth's had been a blur. The painkillers, grief, and rage meant I recalled little of it. I'm told I behaved myself and sat in a disbelieving daze through most of it. I'm suspicious if that was actually the case, given my behaviour in the months that followed, but I hope that's what happened.
But at least for mom, I knew the end was coming and I could prepare. Every time I flew out to see her and dad, I said goodbye, knowing full well one of those times I really was going to be saying goodbye forever.
And then I got the call from my shell-shocked dad at three in the morning, and that was that.
Kitten had the preemptive conversation with me over Christmas when we knew it wasn't going to be long now. Summed up: Do not even, for a second, try to be the stoic hero and go out there for the funeral by yourself. I'm going, that's that.
Part of me wanted to argue the point because she was having a challenging year. Her workload was massive, and on top of that, she was trying to help Kris with a difficult transition from Saskatchewan party girl to a somewhat responsible adult with questionable success. I wanted to spare her the extra pressure of having to deal with a grieving fiance.
Standing in the grey Vancouver rain days earlier, listening to the minister and clutching Kitten's hand, I was glad I listened to her and didn't try to be heroic. Maybe I could have handled it on my own; I'm glad I didn't have to find out.
But after weeks of making sure I was ok and keeping a close eye on me, the two of them had to head back to their lives in a couple of days. Kitten desperately needed to get back to Montreal. She'd been doing her best trying to keep up with her classwork long distance, but this was crunch time. She couldn't afford to miss too many more days of school.
Meg needed to get back to work. She'd taken a job in Ottawa with an advocacy group encouraging diversity in elections.
"The pay is brutal, the hours are long, and I'm listening to so much bullshit from politicians and their lackeys that it's a miracle I haven't strangled them with my bare hands. It's the only sane reaction to have if you're around them long enough," she complained to me a few months ago.
"But you couldn't be happier, right?" I asked. I knew my friend well.
"Fuck yeah! With luck, I'll help get these assholes unelected, and we'll put some useful humans in there. Much less jail time involved than strangling," she said.
I was skeptical, but it has been night and day since she quit her old firm, went on vacation, and started this job. She looked ten years younger and I couldn't be happier.
So yeah, now I had to convince them I was all right and to leave me alone. We'll see.
I heard rustling behind me, so I stopped staring at nothing and turned around. Meg was managing with three mugs of coffee and Kitten was coming out with a plate of food she'd managed to forage from the cupboards. Surprisingly, I was hungry. My appetite vanished since mom died. The two of them threatened IVs to get me nutrients at one point.
"Thanks, guys," I said, grabbing some cheese and crackers. I sat on the couch and Kitten immediately jumped on it and cuddled next to me. Partially to comfort me, but also to steal heat until the place warmed up. Meg plopped down in the armchair. For a few minutes we didn't do much other than snack and warm up.
"Did you text your dad to let him know we landed safely?" Meg asked.
I nodded. Meg still had an aggrieved look on her face.
"I always knew where you got your pain in the ass stubbornness, but I think this is a new level even for him. He all but shoved you on the plane," she said.
"It was kinda weird," Kitten agreed from my side.
"No, it wasn't," I said, sipping my coffee. I was trying to figure out a way to phrase it that didn't make him sound cold or heartless. "Meg, you've seen this before. He never understood why I reacted the way I did when I lost Beth. Sure you could be shocked and upset for a few weeks because it was so sudden. But carrying on the way I did for so many months, he never understood."
"I know, but that was a little different. It was your wife and there was always a little tension between her and them...."
I could feel Kitten shift, and when I glanced down she was looking at me quizzically.
