Chance of Snow 2

If you hated part one, you'll only hate part two! Don't torture yourself. Also, I highly suggest you read part one before reading this, or it will make no sense to you.

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On my next day of work I found a letter in Leo’s mail box and it was addressed to Dennis. It did not have a stamp on it. All mail needs to have stamps on it or I can’t take it but I knew that Leo did not have much money so instead of putting it back in the mail box I put a stamp on it myself. This made me happy because I was doing something to help Leo. It made me feel not so bad when I was sitting outside of Mrs. Baker’s house so I could read his letter.

December 15

Dennis,

I hate school, so don’t even try to get me to go back. I kind of hate these letters too. Feels too much like homework, but whatever. I’ll write them for you.

You could always come over to my house or something if you want to hang out. Maybe you should ditch swimming lessons. You look pretty gay in those swim trunks anyway. It isn’t like I have any parents to get pissed about it.

Oh, and if you’re going to ask me if I’m all right, you should do that before you kiss me, not after.

Leo

The Thursday of that week was my mother’s birthday. I never liked my mother a lot because she was not always nice to me, but I love her anyway because she is my mother and I should. I also did not have a father and if she was the only parent I had then I should love her twice as much. Actually, I had a father because everyone has a father, only I didn’t know him. My mother said he left when I was really little because the doctors said I was stupid.

For her birthday I went to the cemetery and gave her flowers. I do this every year. I talked to her about Mr. Somerset and Leo and the letters. I told her about how they were kissing and I didn’t really understand it but that I liked reading the letters. It made me feel like I was apart of something and maybe one day they would write letters to me, too.

I think if she could really hear me she would not have wanted to listen. Even Mother knows that opening other people’s letters is bad and she would not care about them even though they make me happy.

When I was talking to her about the letters it reminded me of when I was a little kid and I had done something I wasn’t supposed it. It was also mother’s birthday then and I was going to make her a gift, except I got the glue all over the floor and then I got stuck in the glue and the glue was all over the house, so she said that I had given her a glue house for her birthday and she did not like it. So for her birthday she gave me a present too even though it wasn’t my birthday but now I have a scar on my arm that looks like the letter G which she made with a kitchen knife, and I hide it under my sleeve. It is a G so I will always remember that if I make things with glue I need to not make a mess all over the house and upset mother on her birthday.

I didn’t stay long to talk to mother because I knew she wouldn’t like it if I stayed there for long. Even if she was dead I knew that she wouldn’t have liked it. We didn’t talk a lot when she was alive but it is easier now because she is dead and she can’t tell me she doesn’t care. I still try to respect her and not talk for too long. I pretend she talks back.

She said, “I do not care about your letters or the weatherman.”

And so I said, “Then I will leave and see you next year on your birthday.”

I left but I did not say goodbye.

December 19

Leo,

Going to your house was a good plan. I can’t quit swimming lessons yet, but I will think about it—for you? You really are a genius, Leo. I wouldn’t have thought to skip lessons. I suppose I don’t generally think of rebelling in that kind of way. You’re a rebel; right to the core.

I have to admit, though, your house is disgusting. You probably don’t care, and I am sorry to say it, but you could clean it up. At least make it nicer. If I’m going to be coming over more often, could you at least consider washing the sheets? And all of your mirrors were broken, and you just left the glass on the floor. Half of me wants to know why you broke the mirrors in the first place, but the other half just wants to sweep it up. You can cut your foot if you aren’t careful. I guess your mother was the house keeper. Oh, and I found a dead rat in the hallway, in a mouse trap. You know most people don’t keep traps in hallways? Behind a fridge, or something. It’s disgusting, Leo.

If I do quit swimming lessons at the Y, the manager’s will be Royally Pissed, as you put it. (Am I too old to say that?) Scott quit and then I’m going to quit—they’re going to have a great time trying to find new coaches. Who learns how to swim in the winter, anyway? I’ll can tell them I have to work at the station more. They’ve tried to get me to come in more, anyway. Not that I would. You might know Kent the Drunken Weatherman; he’s the evening anchor. Everyone hates him, but I refuse to take over the evening shift and no one else in the town knows meteorology. You think they’d pay me more for my most needed skills, but instead they just harass me about the fact that I only work in the mornings. It wasn’t a problem until Kent’s wife left him last year. Now he comes in drunk every day. Have you seen someone drunk talk about the weather? The guy can’t even say precipitation when he’s sober. They talk about firing him, but again, they can’t. Then who would do the evenings? I think they want to have an intervention, but then the station administrators ask, “Who’s going to pay for it?”They can’t decide what is worse: paying for his rehab or letting him work drunk. I like him drunk. He’s actually funny.

See you again soon, and I really wish you wrote more in your letters. Don’t think of it as homework, that’s so boring. Think of it as what it is: writing to me.

Thinking of you,

Dennis

When I came to my house after my mail route, there were little puffy fur balls on my door step. I didn’t know what they were but they were brown and white and the wind blew them around for a while. They reminded me of those fluffy flowers that I used to blow on when I was a kid and the fluff would go everywhere. I thought they might have been flower fluff but then I saw red smears on the doorstep and I wasn’t sure anymore.

There was red on the step and on the ends of the hairs and when I heard a meow in the bush then I knew it was cat hair. At first I didn’t know it was a meow because it sounded like a baby I had heard once, it screamed and it hurt my ears, but I knew it wasn’t a baby because it only made sense that it was a cat.

The cat hid under the bush, but it was a dead bush, so he was easy to see. Just like the hairs on my door step he was brown and white and red in places. All my life I had never been around cats so I wasn’t sure if the cat would bite me or even let me touch him. For a few minutes I just stared at the cat and he meowed at me and stared at me too.

I think that the cat was meowing at me to tell me that he was hurt so when I finally understood that I stuck my hand under the bush and pulled him out by the tail. He got mad and screamed but didn’t try to hurt me so when I finally got him out I held him in my arms carefully. I held him like I saw people hold babies, but his head just fell to the side and stared at my door. I didn’t know if something was wrong with his neck or he was telling me he wanted to go inside.

I can say that I was scared honestly because I knew the cat was really sick and it might die. I didn’t want to hurt the cat but if I couldn’t help the cat then I didn’t know why I had picked it up so I held him for a few minutes trying to figure out if I would put him back or take him inside. Then I noticed the cat was bleeding all over my arm so I put him back in the grass outside my door and went inside to get a towel. When I came back outside with the towel there was a little kid outside with a baseball bat. He asked me what I was doing.

“I’m going to take the cat inside and help it,” I said. He swung his bat in the air.

“You shouldn’t do that,” he said.

I wrapped the cat in the towel and picked him up again. His head hanged over to the side and looked at the kid and he meowed like the angry baby again. I was going to go inside and not talk to the kid but he came up to me and he said, “Put the cat back down.”

I asked him why and he swung the bat in the air again. “Because me and my friends beat ‘im up and we wanna see him die and you’re ruinin’ it for us.” I didn’t know what he was talking about because I only saw him outside and there was no one else standing around. I didn’t see any friends hiding behind trees or anywhere.

“You shouldn’t beat up cats,” I said.

“Stupid,” he said, “Put the cat back down.” He swung the bat in the air and I thought he might hit me but he just swung it in the air.

“No, I am not going to put the cat back down. He is hurt and he might die and if he is going to die I am at least going to take care of him so he dies nicely! Go away! You go away!” I shouted at him. I swung my arm at him like he swung his bat because I thought maybe I would scare him away, but I worried I would drop the cat so I stopped.

The kid just laughed at me.

“You should go home and go away or I will tell your parents,” I said even though it was a lie because I did not know his parents.

“You stupid retard,” he said.

I did not know what to say. The cat was meowing and the kid was swinging his bat in the air. So I told him he should go away again.

“Let the cat die, retard.”

I knew what the word retard meant but I never liked the word because it was like my mother calling me stupid. I wanted to cry but not in front of the kid because he was mean. I ignored him and went inside and hoped he would just leave me and the cat alone.

I heard him knocking on my door after I went inside but I ignored it. I took the cat into the kitchen and laid him on the countertop. I really do not know why I brought the cat inside because I do not know how to take care of cats and I only knew dogs my whole life and cats are not dogs.

The cat bled all over the towel and it was soggy and was soaking through onto the counter. I had never seen so much blood before. It looked like a flood of red, so I got more towels to try and keep it from getting everywhere. It was moving slowly but there was still a lot of blood because it just kept spreading.

I watched the cat for a few minutes. I could still hear the kid banging on my front door.

“Are you going to die, Cat?” I said to the cat.

He stared at the ceiling and meowed.

“I hope you do not die. You are a pretty cat and I bet you were a very nice cat. I am sorry the kid beat you up like that.” He kept staring at the ceiling.

I wondered if he was happy then because I really knew he was going to die. And I did not want him to die if he wasn’t happy. I thought maybe he was cold because my kitchen is always cold. I was going to take him into my room where it is warm and hold him so I picked him up, but when I did something happened.

I really did not do it on purpose, but when I picked up the cat he bit me then and I dropped him on the floor. If he would have been more wrapped in towels I do not think it would have been so bad but I dropped him and he fell right on the hard floor and on his back. The cat did not make any noise and lied really very still at my feet. He was staring up at me and it scared me. I dropped the towels on him and left the kitchen and went into my room because I was scared.

Now it wasn’t the kid’s fault that the cat died because I dropped him and I killed him and I felt so bad and did not know what to do. It was just like the time I made a present for my mom with all the glue, like I said, because I was trying to do something good and it was not good. I was scared because what if the person whose cat this was found out that I had dropped him then it would be all my fault.

I stayed in my room for a while and tried not to think about the dead cat. But I knew that I could not leave him there in my kitchen so I did not know what to do again. I did not cry because I was too scared.

I went back and wrapped the cat in the towel and picked him up. The only thing I could think to do was to go to my neighbor who lived next store. I did not know her but I hoped she was nice. I knew that her name was Lilac Jennings because I delivered her mail but I did not know if she would care that I killed a cat.

I knocked on her door but the person who answered it was not Lilac Jennings and not a girl either.

“Hello?” he said. He was a tall person with big arms and hands and he was not wearing a shirt. He also only had on one sock.

“Hello Sir, I need help with something and so I was wondering if you could help me with it?” I felt uncomfortable and embarrassed and stupid because the man just kept staring at what was in my arms because I do not think he could tell it was a cat.

The man scratched his stomach. It was kind of hairy. “Uh, what?”

I knew I wasn’t making any sense so I opened the towel up and I showed him the cat. His eyes were still open but whiter than before and his mouth just hung open and his head still hung to the side like before, staring at the man.

“You killed a cat?”

I shook my head and I shook my whole body. “No, no sir I did not kill him but I found him outside. This kid beat him up with his baseball bat and…” I held the cat out to him because I really wanted him to believe that I did not kill the cat even though I did.

He stared at the cat for a few minutes. “Looks like he got run over by a car. You sure you didn’t kill him?”

The cat’s arm was sticking out into the air and pointing to the man. I wanted to push it back into the towel because it was strange, but I didn’t touch the cat. I just stared at him because I didn’t want to stare at the man. I stood for a few minutes and didn’t look at the man or say anything.

I tried to look at the man now with a very serious face. “I don’t know what to do with him and he is dead.” I am not very good at making serious faces.

“Well if you killed him just put him in a trash bag or in a dumpster or something. Road kill, you know?” He was leaning against the doorway and still scratching his stomach. It made me feel strange because I was holding a dead cat and he wasn’t wearing a shirt. I had not been around anyone who did not wear a shirt.

“But I did not kill him,” I said finally, “And why would I throw him away?”

“It’s dead, dude. Just put him in the trash.”

The man was going to close the door then but I did not want him to so I said, “Wait no please!” and he stopped.

“Look, it’s a dead cat. I don’t care if you ran over it or whatever but I don’t know what the hell you want me to do about it.”

My hands were shaking then but I did not know why, they were just shaking “Do you maybe have a shovel so then I could maybe bury him in the ground instead of throw him away?”

The man stared at me and then laughed and he was just like the kid from before. “What are you, retarded? It’s an apartment complex. Are you going to bury it in the little patch of dirt in front of the house? Just throw the fucking thing away.”

He closed the door after that and I didn’t stop him. I still didn’t know what to do but I just put him in a trash bag and then in the dumpster on the corner of the street because that is what the man said I should do.

December 28

Dennis,

I don’t know why I am writing you. I hate you right now, you know that? I wanted to spend Christmas high and happy and what the fuck do you do, Dennis? You come over and practically try to kill me.

What the fuck, Dennis? I hope you die, you know that? Seriously, I do. I hope you get so fucking drunk you fall in a street and get ran over. My father used to hit me. Did you ever think about that? You’re just like him. Only, you know, he didn’t fuck me before beating the shit out of me.

Go die.

Leo

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More parts to come! This is turning out to be long (and taking longer) than I had hoped. As a result, I'm working slowly, and I'm not entirely sure how many more parts there are until the end. Uh. Expect more eventually.