I want to adventures with you

The morning after felt different. It wasn’t exactly better, just quieter. The voice in his head wasn’t gone but it was muffled, like someone had set the volume on low.

Robby woke before the alarm and stared at the motel ceiling for a long time before pushing himself upright. His head still felt heavy and his chest ached in a way that wasn’t entirely physical.

The cat was already awake, one green eye opening lazily as Robby climbed out of bed.

“Morning” Robby muttered, then hesitated briefly. “Sorry again for last night.”

Mr. Abbot blinked once.

“Yeah, great, thanks for the talk.”

Twenty minutes later Robby sat outside the motel room with a paper cup of coffee that somehow tasted burnt and too weak at the same time. The parking lot was almost empty. The sun had only just climbed over the trees, washing everything in warm gold. Long shadows stretched across cracked asphalt. Somewhere a sprinkler clinked rhythmically. A pickup truck rolled slowly onto the highway.

Mr. Abbot had claimed the wooden bench. Or not just claimed it - he occupied it with complete confidence.

He lay sprawled across the weathered wood, his three remaining legs pointing in entirely different directions. His belly soaked up the morning sun. His face carried the unmistakable expression of someone whose only responsibility today was existing.

Robby looked over and made a face. “Cover yourself up, cat.”

Mr. Abbot didn’t even bother opening his eyes.

Robby sat the cup of coffee down and pulled his phone out without thinking. He took a picture - and it was actually kind of beautiful. Ridiculous, but really pretty.

His thumb drifted automatically toward Jack’s conversation. Look at this idiot. That would’ve been the message. Instead he remembered Jack had probably only gotten home after another night shift and would probably be asleep right now.

Robby looked back at the picture and felt something twitch inside his chest. He felt like he needed some proof that he was still alive. That he had survived the night. And somehow he needed other people to see it too.

He opened Instagram and uploaded the picture. He didn’t add filters or hashtags, just added the simple caption: 

Cat.

He locked the phone again before he could think twice about it. Then he stretched. “Okay cat, five minutes, then we’re packing.”

Mr. Abbot opened his eyes and looked mildly offended that Robby expected him to move before noon.

By eight the motorcycle was back on the highway. Miles disappeared beneath the tires. Fields became forests. Forests became small towns. Mr. Abbot spent most of the ride asleep inside the backpack, occasionally lifting his head whenever they slowed before deciding nothing interesting was happening. 

Around noon Robby pulled into a small gas station that also advertised sandwiches, fishing bait and homemade pie. He filled up the motorcycle and bought coffee and a turkey sandwich. After a brief hesitation he bought another one.

“You’re having quite the appetite, Mister” the woman behind the counter chuckled.

Robby shrugged, suddenly very self-aware of the little belly he’d developed. “It’s for the cat.”

“Oh, wow, you spoil him.”

Another shrug.

Outside Mr. Abbot accepted the turkey meat as if this service had always been included. Then he wandered toward a narrow trail disappearing behind the building. A small creek ran through the trees only a couple hundred yards away.

Mr. Abbot immediately began investigating every stick, leaf and suspicious-looking blade of grass. Robby walked for a while then settled onto a fallen log, balancing the coffee while finishing the last of his sandwich. For a while he simply listened to the water.

It felt… quiet.

Robby hated when it became quiet. He liked it more when his surroundings were filled with something – beeping monitors, noise of a busy street or people chatting. Anything that distracted him from the voices in his head.

His phone buzzed. Then buzzed again. And three more times. It seemed like he just found a place with a good phone reception.

He frowned. “Well, that can’t be good.”

He reached for it and unlocked it. Five unread messages. All from Jack. The first one made him smile despite himself.

Jack: Well, fine, then don’t answer me.

He had sent it shortly after eight. The next one had arrived twenty minutes later.

Jack: FindMy says you’re still moving. So you’re not dead, you’re just ignoring me. Fuck you for that.

Robby huffed a laugh. The next couple of messages were only twenty minutes old.

Jack: YOU POSTED?!!! Jack: Robinavitch. Jack: You really didn’t hear a single word I said about starving the internet, huh?

Another message arrived while he was reading.

Jack: Also. Congratulations. You accidentally became the funniest and most famous man on the internet.

Robby blinked. “What?”

He opened Instagram and his mouth fell open. Ninety-eight thousand likes. Nearly two-thousand comments. His follower count was in the low five digits now.

“Fuck.”

He refreshed his profile. The number kept climbing.

“Oh fuck no.”

Mr. Abbot looked up briefly before deciding whatever his human was doing couldn’t possibly be as interesting as his hunt for this particular fascinating stick.

Robby opened the comments. 

MR ABBOT MY KING The caption is taking me out. This man uses Instagram like a dad. I’M CRYING The lighting??? Sir, this is art. HE POSTED AGAIN EVERYONE STAY CALM, NO SUDDEN MOVEMENTS OR WE’LL SCARE HIM AWAY Bro casually posted the hardest photo of the year This picture lowered my blood pressure THE MOTEL LORE CONTINUES Cat™ has achieved inner peace and I would like to subscribe.

Robby couldn’t help but laugh. That was getting ridiculous. People were weirdly involved in this cat.

His phone buzzed again.

Jack: You know I can see that you read my messages, right? Don’t ghost me.

Robby rolled his eyes, then started typing.

Robby: I don’t ghost you. I don’t even know what that means.

The three dots appeared almost instantly.

Jack: It means don’t kill yourself and haunt me as a ghost.

Robby swallowed hard, his thumb hovering over the screen. Something in his chest tightened sharply.

Another buzz.

Jack: Just kidding. It means you don’t reply to my messages with no explanation. It’s slang. Keep up.

Robby let out a long breath.

Robby: You’re spending too much time with the Millennials, Abbot.

A rustle nearby got his attention. Mr. Abbot had reached a small pine tree. He sniffed the trunk, looked up – and then started climbing. 

Robby blinked. “Um, well, that’s new.”

The cat made it perhaps three feet before stopping. Then for reasons known only to himself his front paws remained attached to the bark while his head tipped dramatically back, staring directly at Robby. 

His eyes were enormous. His whiskers pointed in every direction. He looked less like a cat and more like something recently summoned.

Robby stared, then slowly held up his phone. He took a couple of pictures then chuckled quietly when looking at them.

“Well” he muttered. “I guess they’ll love it, hm?”

Without further thought he uploaded the picture. Caption: Catxorzist.

He stared at it for a second, then chuckled again. “That one’s actually pretty funny.”

Mr. Abbot answered with an indignant meow before losing his grip on the tree entirely and dropping to the ground with less dignity than he was probably aiming for.

“You meant to do that, huh?”

The cat marched away without even acknowledging the question.

Robby reached for his coffee again, still with an amused smile. The creek murmured softly nearby. Mr. Abbot chased a butterfly that clearly wasn’t interested in being chased. He closed his eyes for a moment.

It felt… nice.

His phone buzzed again.

Jack: Catxorzist? Really?

Robby felt defensive for a second.

Robby: I thought it was funny.

Jack: Yeah. Okay. That one’s actually pretty good.

Robby nodded to himself. “Yeah, see Abbot? I’m funny as fuck” he muttered to himself, then slipped the phone back into his pocket.

He watched the creek for another minute while Mr. Abbot was still staring at the butterfly.

The darkness hadn’t disappeared. He knew that. It was still there, lingering, waiting. But for the first time in what felt like days it wasn’t the loudest thing in his head.

The creek was. And a ridiculous three-legged orange cat that now looked offended because that damn butterfly just fluttered away and left him meowing.

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