Socks: A Narrative Fiction

Peter hadn’t seen his daughter in three weeks; she should have been excited to see him. Except she was more focused on his ex’s new boyfriend. Harold or Harry, as Peter’s daughter liked to call him, had pink sparkly clips in his brown hair, and smudges of black paint across his cheeks. “Do you guys not have running water in this place?” Crayons and glitter littered the table, and dishes lived in the sink. “Oh,” Harold said, quickly rubbing his hand across his cheeks, “Rebecca turned me into a cat,” He laughed. “You know how bossy she can be, just like her mother.” “No actually I don’t. Rebecca always does what she’s told when I’m around,” Peter said.

“Well, I guess you know her better than me, you're her dad after all.”

“I am,” Peter replied.

I’ll look outside for him.”

“Socks. Socks. Sooocks,” Peter called into the darkness. He felt ridiculous; the cat didn’t even know its’ name.

Rebecca was perched on the bed waiting for Peter, when he came back inside. “Daddy, Where is Socks?”

“I don’t know honey, it’s too dark to find him at the moment. We’ll find him in the morning.”

“No you have to find Socks, now!” Rebecca screamed.

“Rebecca, don’t yell at me. It’s late and you need to go to bed,” Peter said, channeling Aimee.

“No,” Rebecca said. She jumped off the bed and ran towards the door.

Peter caught her around the waist and held her against his shoulder. His shirt felt damp, but he didn’t dare let Rebecca go. “Calm down, Rebecca.”

“No put me down! I want Mommy. I want Mommy,” Rebecca chanted.

“Please stop crying.” Peter gently placed her on the bed.

Rebecca lay on her back, gasping for air like a fish. Snot had run down her face and dribbled into her mouth. “I want Mommy,” Rebecca whimpered. Peter glanced at the phone. He had to call Aimee. She appeared minutes later. “How could you let this happen?” Aimee asked, as she put a still sobbing Rebecca into her booster seat.

“It was going great until the cat went