Inevitably have found lots of holes that need plugging now that I've laid all this out 'in order'.

Here's one, probably not finished, but that I just have to move on from because it's driving me crazy.

FATSO, LAST OF THE BAD CATS

It didn't mean she didn't feel sorry for Sandy's most recent bad cat. All sorts of reasons it wouldn't be saved like the ones that had come before it, and nothing to do with her thinking it was a bad cat at all. Probably a very fine cat. And yet Norma would still refuse to take it home with her after every visit, remaining steadfast that this one would not be saved. At least not by her. Never.

But this was not to say she agreed with what was happening here. Didn't think it should have been kept in the closet like was being done and so always quick to let it out every time she found herself back in this place. Being sure to let this cat escape into the sunlight no matter how much the girl told her all about the terrible things it was always doing to her. 

"It can read my mind. It thinks I'm evil. Won't let me get even a minute of sleep"

And Norma not believing a single word of any of it. Just telling her she couldn't just get mad and lock it up with its litterbox like that. That it wasn't right. And so if ever asked to choose, Norma would always take the cats side over Sandy's. Every single time, without exception.

It really did seem like a good cat.

Not that any of this had led to a change of heart when it came to saving the poor thing. Had nothing to do with why Norma was being so stubborn. Instead was all because the girl had lied, Sandy already having broken the promise she'd made no more than a month before when she'd needed Norma to take her previous disappointment off her hands. Whatever latest thing she'd been keeping in her closet that particular week, that she didn't want anymore. Whatever it was she couldn't keep from meowing and reading her mind and driving her up the walls.

"Every time a bad one. Even when I get a pretty one, it ends up being a bad one. Awful luck, my whole life everything going wrong. My whole life getting my face rubbed in it, like it was funny or something"

And this had long been the routine. Every few months, a new cat to prove Sandy's bad luck was a never changing thing. A new cat for her to find in the closet. And while Norma would never even be entirely sure where Sandy kept finding these strays up on the tenth floor of her apartment building—she had taken that last cat, and the one before it, and  then probably a few more that she'd by now forgotten she'd gotten from the girl, and so clearly they were everywhere—this time she'd made sure to get a promise from her. A vow of no more cats, just in case she was ever tempted to go back out into those hallways hunting for some handsome new thing she inevitably wouldn't want. Took the time to make Sandy finally understand she didn't really even like the mangy things after all. But most importantly, that Norma certainly wouldn't take any more of them if she did it again. That her house was not nearly as endlessly big as the girl had thought it to be, and that there wouldn't necessarily always be room for just one more cat, no matter how sad or little it might be.

"Focus on your son", she advised the girl. "That should be your priority here, Sandy"

Not that she seemed to even remember Norma's warning, because no more than a month later, here they were, back in the same place with some new sad thing coming out from the closet with every visit. A cat to blink in the sunlight and wonder why no one was coming to rescue it. Looking like it didn't know what it had done wrong, and every time Norma having to stop Sandy from hitting herself when she was reminded of her broken promise. How she had been told this is what would happen if she did it again. It was no longer Norma's problem, even though there was never anyone else around to hold onto the girls wrists as she began smacking herself in the head. Started raving about how the world hated her and she couldn't take it anymore and how she honestly thought this one would be different and it wasn't fair how they could never once be a good cat.

"Always bad. Every time it's gotta be bad"

No matter how hysterical the girl could sometimes become though, Norma wouldn't budge. And so it seemed Sandy would be left stuck with this last bad cat of hers.  That nobody else wanted either.  This cat she wouldn't even give a name to,  if only to make it seem even sadder every time it came out onto the floor to lick itself. Stare helplessly back at Norma, who wouldn't take it, and who it was clear couldn't have possibly cared even in the slightest about what was happening here by how she wouldn't even look the thing in the eyes.

This wasn't her problem.

This cat that would just be called Cat.

Or at least only Cat until the day came for her to take the boy away from here. Take him for good once Norma came to realize maybe she did have a little room left in her house after all. And so considering the boy would never be coming back here as she led him from his mother's apartment,  she just didn't have the heart to get the child to let go of what he'd been holding onto as he came with her out into the hallway.

Clutching onto this thing without a name.

This cat her grandson would call Fatso.

And that, to be clear, Norma was not responsible for saving. That she never would have saved if it had been up to her. even though she had no doubt it was a very nice cat. Would have kept her promise of what she'd never do again until the end of time. How else was this stupid mother to ever learn, if she never let her fix her own mistakes.

Another new one, I'm going to walk away from before I do too much damage.

COUSIN MICHELLE THINKS HE'S HANDSOME

"When your dad was with my mom, he was such a good guy", Michelle said to me once. "And he was so handsome"

She's talking about back in the days when Joanne had that place where she just kept playing Heart of Glass over and over again on her jukebox. Tells me to tell my father what she said about him. That she wants him to know she still remembers him, and when I do, it makes him happy to hear this. Says he remembers Michelle. How he always liked her too.

Not her brother, though.

Definitely never liked Troy.

"That red-headed prick"

Had never forgiven the child for calling him a cocksucker. Probably something he had heard his father call Bruce many times after stealing Joanne from him. Would never forget that ugly little face just looking up at him, and knowing full well it wouldn't get slapped like his mother would have done if he had dared say it to her.

Well, maybe not if he was still saying it about Bruce.

She would have probably just laughed at that. That little mouth with all those teeth not yet come in, callling him a cocksucker.

But now all these years later, my father still thinks he could have married Joanne. She probably hadn't been much better than my mother, but it had looked good enough for him. Would always ask her to marry him every time he got a really good drunk on, and would mean it every single time. Even long after he had stopped drinking, after he could no longer think so fondly of the past, he still remembered Joanne as being one of the good times.

"Even though she had been such a mean goddamned drunk. Even though one of her children was a freckly little shit"

Had truly believed he could have drunk the rest of his life with her. Might have even ended up right there next to her as the flames on her mattress rose to the ceiling.

Says that wouldn't have been such a bad way to go.

"And I always liked Michelle", he then will say again. Slower this time. Almost as if he's just made the discovery that he likes that sound of saying something nice. That it's worth saying twice "Weird looking kid, but mostly really sweet"

He asks if I knew how she ended up dealing with what happened to her mother. How she probably would have still been a kid back then, and as he tries to do the math on how many years its been sincee he last saw Michelle, I tell him I think she smokes crack now. Or at least she used to.

"Ya, I guess that makes some sense", my father, nods. "Still would have married that woman though"

Then after saying this, he slips into a long silence. Appears strangely relaxed. Confident that he has nothing more to say.

Doesn't ask about Troy.

Assumes his face is still just as ugly as it always was, and that was enough for him.