The Death Clock: chapter 2

 

2

I woke up to a soft knocking. Living on the streets made me a light sleeper, out of fear of being attacked. I had no idea where I was. I looked around and remembered that Cat had me staying at her house. I got up and opened the hard cherry wood door.

Cat was wearing an apron over her white and black stripped shirt and she had feetsy pajama bottoms on. The apron had flour and stains on it, as if it was fresh from the kitchen. Cat smiled up at me.

"You’re awake. I forgot that none of the other rooms had beds. I’m sorry. Well breakfast is ready; I just got done making it. I hope you like it. I’m the only who eats here so I don’t know how it tastes to other people."

"You didn’t just cook for me did you? I could have made something myself, if you would have let me." I said surprised. No one had ever cooked for me. I usually just got a meal at the homeless shelter.

"Nonsense. I had to cook anyways. I can’t just eat out all the time. Come on down, the dining room is right off the stairs."

When I got down stairs, after washing my face with ice-cold water to wake up, I saw that she had cooked quite a lot. On a long mahogany table were two stacks of pancakes and sliced fruit. There were eight chairs carved from black wood around the long table.
Three chairs on the each of the long sides and one on either end. Cat sat in the middle of the left side of the table, a plate of sliced fruit on a single pancake in front of her. I sat across from her and took a pancake off one of the stacks. She handed me a bottle of maple syrup and some jams and butter to go with the pancake.

"I forgot to ask last night. What’s your name?" Cat asked as I took a bite of the food. She was an excellent cook; the food was rich with flavor. I could taste faint traces of what I believed to be passion fruit, most likely used to add flavor.

I thought for a minute as I chewed the food. I couldn’t actually remember having a real name. My father only called me ‘boy’ and Coach only said ‘Hey you! Don’t be a pansy. Kick his arse, you good-for-nothing ingrate.’ Coach always told me to be a better fighter. He never was good with names.

"I can’t remember. I had one but I must have forgotten it. I never used it and nobody else cared." I said lamely.

"Well, I can’t call you ‘boy,’ now can I? What do you want to be called?"

"How does Isaac sound? I always did like the name."

"Isaac? It suites you. You look like an Isaac," she said to me. From then on, I was called Isaac, just Isaac.

When we finished breakfast, I helped gather all the dishes. Though she told me not to bother, I also washed the dishes. Thankfully, my OCD only kicked in when my hands were dirty and I was washing them. I managed to wash all the dishes without incident.

As I walked out of the kitchen, Cat threw a jacket to me. It was a slim feminine jacket with a soft inner lining, but it was better than walking outside without one. It was spring yet it felt like winter. Parts of the city still got snow.

"Where are we going, Cat?" I asked Cat after slipping it on.

"Cat? Hmm. I like it. It is because of my initials, right. We’re going shopping. You need stuff for your room, probably clothes, too." Cat said, smiling. Like nearly all girls, I guess she loved shopping.

She took me all the way to the Market, walking side by side. She wasn’t old enough to have a license but she could own one of the nicest houses in the city. Typical.

The Market was a collection of shops that sold everything from antiques to clothes, food to cars. First, she took me to Steven’s Clothes. She told me to look for whatever I liked. When I came back to her with just cheap pre-owned plain tees and jeans, she dragged me over to the fitting rooms and handed me expensive silk shirts and nice new jeans. She handed me tough blue jeans, soft skinny jeans and all manner of other pants. She soon had a pile of really nice clothes but I frowned and looked at her, disappointed. I had seen the price of one of the jeans. It was over a hundred dollars.

"Cat, I cannot afford any of these." I said, made even sadder by the fact of being poor.

"Don’t worry. I was going to cover everything. You’re staying at my house and I can’t let you have nothing while you’re there, so I might as well buy you some clothes. Otherwise, what kind of hostess would I be?" Cat said smiling.

I didn’t deserve any of these things. We were still barely more than strangers. But I didn’t argue. It is wise not to look a gift horse in the mouth. I saw that in the paper once.

When we got to the cash register, Steven was shocked to see to teenagers purchasing these expensive clothes. But when Cat swiped her card, I realized she could have bought out nearly every store in the Market. She carried a platinum colored card with a black edge. It was most likely the last time anyone there would see a card like that. Its value was second only to the black-cards that even billionaires didn’t have. When we got onto the street, I asked how she got it.

"I worked for it. My father owns a big company overseas and I gave him an idea that turned into a multi-billion dollar invention. He gave me a portion of the money he made from it and so I moved over here, to America." Cat said.

I was surprised. I had a feeling that I could have guessed what that product was if I tried. She took me to all these other stores to get more stuff. I didn’t feel as bad for her paying for it all, but I still felt like dirt.

She bought a large bed, a memory foam mattress, a large clock that looked like it was made of stone and a low study table from Heavenly Home Goods. She bought a ceiling light, a lamp, a wide screen television, a computer, and some other electronics from a small family owned store. She got me all sorts of books, ranging from science books to adventure books, from thick, heavy books with tons of chapters to slim comics and mangas, from the large bookstore, Tales of Willow Books. Cat had everything delivered to her house in Paradise Acres.

Cat and me walked back to her house, her nearly falling asleep from walking all day. As we neared her house, I could hear the murmurs of the boys across the street.

"Lucky guy. That chick’s a babe. She’s stacked," one kid said to his friend. The friend agreed and the girl they were walking with pushed past them. The one who spoke first started to chase after her shouting apologies.

"I wonder if those two had a fight, or something. She seems upset," Cat said, sleepily, for she hadn’t heard the kid.

"Or something," I said to her, trying not to feel the heat on my face from the kid’s comment.

We were a few streets from her house when she sat on a bench. I sat next to her and waited for her to feel rested enough to walk. I waited until I heard her steady breathing as she leaned against me. She had fallen asleep on the bench.

I sighed and lifted her small frame onto my back. I carried her the last few streets and brought her into her house. I carried her up the stairs and laid her on her bed. I closed the door to her room quietly, so that she could rest.

The stuff wouldn’t be brought here until tomorrow at the earliest. I went down stairs and fell asleep in the large living room on the coach, counting the crystals in the chandelier.

I slept for about twelve minutes but I woke up again. I couldn’t sleep on this coach. It was much too soft. So I went back up stairs and stood in my empty room. I began to imagine where everything would be placed when it arrived. Again, I fell asleep on the floor of the room, leaning against the wall.