Sometimes I see my cat, Camille, moving her head slowly, watching the walls and then the ceiling, tracing something invisible with her eyes in the deepest of focus, and I wonder if you're there. If she can see you.
I used to see her do that at an old apartment.
You were still alive then.
Camille had sat down next to Lola, my old roommate's cat, and they'd both started watching something at the same time. Their heads had moved up and down and sideways and I'd called my roommate into the living room because I'd gotten scared. We'd both watched them watching something we couldn't see and were FREAKED OUT.
Had they seen a ghost? Maybe.
But it's different now.
It's my own place now. A studio. And you're gone now. And Lola is gone, too. You remember how devastated I'd been. She died in my arms of sudden heart failure. My vet, Dr. Hudson, called it hypertrophic cardiomyapathy. I'd never felt a living thing die in my arms before. I still remember the feeling of her going completely limp. My finding her, poor sweet girl, behind my couch and me picking her up in my arms and calling out her name. "Lola!" "Lola!"
Is that how your family found you? Did they cry out your name? "Kasey, Kasey!"
I still don't know how you did it. I don't want to know. I know I could find out if I wanted. But I want my last memory of you to be the memory of us hugging goodbye at the Gala you organized.
I was wearing a peach dress and you were in red lipstick and a black lace dress. And I was so goddamn proud of you. So proud, Kase. I was always proud of you. Did you know how much?
When I sometimes see Camille stop and watch something, I don't get scared anymore. I wonder if it's you. And I hope that maybe you're checking in on us, letting me know you're here and close by. Hiding my stuff and laughing at me watching the wall. And sometimes I talk to you. But you know that.
Cami is sitting by the front door right now. Looking out. And maybe she's just being a cat.
But maybe...
.....Hello.
