Good Enough

Mo wants a cat. Ash wants Mo to deal with her drinking problem. They make a deal.

“I want a cat,” said Mo, out of the blue.

“Oh, so we’re that kind of couple, now, are we?” I joked, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m serious!” she retorted, “We should get a cat.”

“Well, your birthday is in two months,” I pointed out.

“Yesss, I like where this is going.”

“It’s your 21st birthday.”

“I still like where this is going, please continue.”

“…we can go pick out a cat together on your birthday if you don’t drink between now and August 7,” I concluded with a sly grin.

“I don’t like where this is going anymore,” she said, frowning down at the bottle of hard cider in her hand.

“How badly do you want a cat?” I asked.

In response, she gave me a death glare as she marched over to the sink to pour her cider down the drain, not breaking eye contact once. It was a good thing I liked the idea of having a cat around, because I wasn’t really expecting that response.

“So who’re we giving the rest of the alcohol to?” Mo asked, “I refuse to waste perfectly good unopened bottles by pouring them down a drain. That s**t costs money!”

“That’s fine,” I said, “What about Brae? Brae’s a responsible drinker.”

Mo rolled her eyes, “Yeah, a responsible drinker who only drinks wine.”

“Raine?”

“Raine can’t have hard liquor because it makes his health s**t flare up. Are you just listing off all our older friends, first? Because if so, that mean’s Kye’s up next!”

I tossed my guitar pick at her from across the room, but I missed my mark by several feet, “You know Kye doesn’t drink.”

Mo stuck her tongue out at me and strolled over to retrieve my guitar pick from the floor, “Fine. Lupio and Sebastián?”

“Sure,” I shrugged, “Lupio has common sense, and Sebastián’s idea of drinking is to taste test whatever Lupio makes. I’m sure they’ll put your liquor collection to good use without singlehandedly guzzling it in a week’s time.”

“Great, it’s settled then,” said Mo, smirking as she tossed my guitar pick back at me. It bounced off the top of my head.

~*~

To my utter astonishment, Mo was still sober by the time we went to dinner at her family’s house the following Friday. Unfortunately, this also meant she was even more volatile than she usually was at her family’s house. Her relationship with her family had improved significantly over the past year, but I certainly never would have guessed it from her behavior that night. At one point, a conversation about her work schedule almost escalated into a fist fight with between Mo and her father. At least I knew which side of her family she had inherited her temper from.

As the conflict escalated, Mo’s sister Toyin shot me a wide-eyed look that seemed to say “What prompted this?”

“She’s sober,” I mouthed. Toyin raised an eyebrow in confusion, and I motioned for her to lean closer so I could whisper in her ear, “I promised her a cat if she doesn’t drink until her birthday.”

Toyin gave me a sympathetic smile, suppressing a chuckle. She clearly knew her sister well.

Mo’s mom stopped me on our way out the door to catch the bus. “You take good care of my daughter. I pray for the two of you every day,” she said with a proud smile. I figured Toyin had filled her in. I nodded and smiled back before following Mo outside into the warm summer evening.

~*~

The next morning, I woke up to my phone ringing. I snatched it up and answered it before it could wake Mo. “Hey Mom,” I whispered as I snuck out of the bedroom, closing the door lightly behind me.

“Good morning!” she responded, “Did I wake you up?”

“Maybe. It’s fine, though. I need to stop sleeping in so much. I picked up more morning hours at the music shop for the summer.”

“Oh, did you? That’s good!” Mom said with pride in her voice, “Maybe you’ll be able save up enough for that new guitar you were looking at.”

“Actually, I’m becoming more and more convinced that money will be going to a cat,” I laughed, “I told you about the deal I made with Mo, right?”

Mom chuckled, “She’s still going strong, huh?”

“The good news is, she made it through dinner with her parents without drinking,” I said.

“And the bad news?”

“The bad news is that I had to be at the aforementioned sober family dinner with her.”

Mom laughed, “Isn’t that the truth!”

~*~

Mo’s bad mood persisted for the next few weeks, until one day I came home from work to find her curled up in bed with a cigarette and a bowl of ice cream, tears streaming down her face. I suspected this was one of those moments where I was supposed to pretend I didn’t see anything, so I tiptoed past her and busied myself picking up dirty dishes from around the room until Mo spoke up tearfully, “Y’know how I’m always arguing with you about how I don’t have a drinking problem?”

“Yeah?”

“Turns out I’m a liar,” she said, sounding utterly defeated.

I set down my armful of dishes and made my way over to her, “Hey, you’ve made it three weeks, right?”

She snorted, “And here I am, smoking for the first time since we moved in here and quit together.”

I kissed her forehead and plucked the cigarette from her fingers, “Would you like me to get rid of this?”

She sighed heavily and took a bite of ice cream, “Yeah.”

I put the cigarette out and threw it away, then returned to Mo’s side, “Is there anything else I can do?”

“More ice cream?” she asked, holding up her mostly-empty bowl.

“Of course,” I responded, picking up her bowl to carry to the kitchen with the rest of the dishes.

“Thanks Ash,” Mo said quietly as I reached for the doorknob, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” I said, smiling over my shoulder at her.

~*~

Mo’s mood seemed to improve after our conversation. During our time together in the evenings, I spent most of my time playing my guitar while Mo browsed the internet or played solitaire, occasionally shouting out song requests for me. Sometimes she would pause me and come over to show me a new magic trick, which she had been teaching herself when she got home from work before me. It was a nice change of pace from our usual summer routine, which mostly consisted of Mo picking petty fights with her family out of boredom and then getting upset and drinking herself to sleep.

Everything seemed to be going perfectly until the weekend we had arranged to go to a music festival with Lupio and Sebastián. Nothing seemed awry the first day of the festival, until Mo came back from the bathroom at almost 11pm and groaned, “What is wrong with me, Ash?”

“I don’t know,” I replied, concerned, “What happened?”

“Some guy at the last concert offered me a Vicodin, and I took it and now I feel all buzzy like I drank too much coffee,” she rattled off, barely pausing for breath, “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’m an idiot.”

I put am arm around her shoulder, “Are you okay? Do you feel sick?”

“No, I feel great!” she said desperately, “That’s the problem! I did something stupid and it feels great and I can’t think of any good reasons to regret it but I know I shouldn’t have done it.”

“Do you want to go home?” I asked.

“No, but I think I need to,” she said, reluctance dripping from her voice.

“Okay,” I said, kissing her forehead, “I’ll text Lupio.

“Sorry,” she murmured.

“It’s okay,” I assured her, “I’m not mad. Lupio won’t be mad. There will be other music festivals. No harm, no foul.”

~*~

Mo made a good recovery after the concert incident, and the last two weeks until her birthday passed more of less without event. When she came out of our room on her birthday, I immediately stood up from my laptop and wrapped my arms around her, planting a kiss on top of her head and burying my face in the corkscrew-curls of her hair, “Happy birthday, love.”

“I kept my end of the deal. Now let’s go get this cat,” were the first word out of her mouth.

“Of course!” I agreed, “I already let my mom know we’d be needing a ride, today. If we do end up finding the right cat today, the last thing we need is a cat on a bus in downtown Providence. Which shelter do you want to check first?”

“Oh, there’ll be no need for checking,” Mo said smugly, producing a crinkled piece of paper. On it was a picture of a shorthair tuxedo cat, “We’re gonna go pick up this pretty lady. I talked to the shelter and everything.”

“She’s beautiful!” I said, plucking the paper from Mo’s hand to get a closer look. She was three years old and had brilliant green eyes. Once again, I had underestimated Mo’s cat fever. Or perhaps I had just underestimated how much free time she would have if she wasn’t spending half her free time drinking. “Did you visit the shelter and everything?”

“Duh!” she responded, “She’s at the shelter right by where I work, so Ive been stopping there after work whenever I get the chance. She’s mad cuddly and loves those feathery fishing pole things.”

“Cute,” I smiled, “I can’t wait to meet her. I’ll call my mom and let her know we’re ready.”

“Yeeesss,” Mo cackled with glee, returning to our room to retrieve her shoes.

~*~

Mo insisted on sitting in the back with the cat carrier on our way back from the shelter, sticking her fingers through the bars in an attempt at petting our furry new housemate.

“So do you two have a name for your new friend?” Mom asked, looking back at Mo through the rear-view mirror.

I glanced back at Mo for confirmation.

“You tell her,” she said, then went back to making kissy-faces at the cat through the bars.

“We decided to name her Aly,” I said, “Short for Aluhio. Y’know, like the silly sand dragon you used to tell me stories about when I was little.”

“Wow! You still remember that?” Mom turned to me with a grin, “What a perfect name for a black-and-white kitty!”

“Of course I do! I loved your Aluhio stories,” I said, “I’ve told Mo just about all of them. How else do you think I got her to agree to naming our cat Aluhio?”

Mom laughed, and I looked fondly back at Mo, who was sprawled awkwardly across the back seat in a hilarious attempt to touch noses with Aly through the door of the cat carrier.

~*~

Mo was still fawning over Aly when it was time for us to start readying the house for Mo’s party, several hours later. I entered our bedroom to change into something less sweaty, only to find Mo sprawled out on the bed, gently squeezing Aly’s toes between her fingers with a serene smile on her face. The cat just lay there, seemingly unbothered by her new human’s overzealous affection.

I couldn’t help myself. I made my way over to the bed and sat down, reaching over to pet Aly and then leaning down to kiss Mo’s forehead. Aly responded to the disturbance by getting up and moving to the pillow by Mo’s head.

“Isn’t she cute?” Mo said, nuzzling her face into the cat’s flank, “I’ve never had a pet, before!”

“Hey Mo,” I said softly, running my fingers affectionately along her belly, “do you have any idea how proud I am of you?”

She shrugged, her focus still on Aly, “Whatever, it’s not that big a deal. I just wanted a cat.”

“Seriously, Mo. When was the last time you went two months without drinking?” I asked, careful to keep my voice gentle, “I’ll bet you anything it was before… before…”

“…before Jess died?” she finished for me, “Yeah, I guess it was.”

“That was five and a half years ago, Mo.”

“Yikes,” she said under her breath.

“Can I be honest?” I asked.

“You’re not already?” the usual edge returned to her voice.

“I’ve been scared to death about you turning 21,” I admitted, “I’m terrified of what’s going to happen now that you can just go out and buy alcohol on your own.”

Mo was silent for what seemed like an eternity. I reached over to scratch between Aly’s ears to quell my anxiety as I waited for a response.

Finally, Mo spoke with a cracking voice, “I’m kind of scared, too.”

I swooped down and scooped her into my arms, scaring the cat off the bed in the process, “God, Mo. I’m so f*****g proud of you.”

“For what?” she asked, indignantly, “For being a s****y alcoholic girlfriend?”

“For being stronger than my dad,” I replied, squeezing her as tightly as I could without injuring her.

Without a word, she wriggled out of my grip, smiled up at me, and pulled me into a long kiss.

When we pulled apart, I glanced down at my phone to check to time, “Crap! People are going to start showing up in like 20 minutes. We need to get our asses in gear.”

As if on cue, Mo’s phone buzzed. She picked it back up to read the message. “Hey, Lupio wants to know if he can bring alcohol,” she said, showing me her phone to illustrate her point.

I took a deep breath, “It’s up to you, love.”

“Thanks,” she said, giving me a peck on the cheek before returning to her phone to type her reply, “I’m telling him yes, just FYI. If I do anything stupid, kick me.”

As soon as she finished texting, I reached for her hand and gave it a squeeze, “I love you, Mo.”

“You too, Ash,” she said softly. We heard a small meow from the doorway and Mo turned her head toward the door and then back to me, “Y’know who else I love?”

“Aly-cat?” I asked.

“Heck yes!” she said, springing from the bed and scooping the slightly-startled cat up, showering her white belly with kisses. I grinned as I watched them.