“Happy?”
“A little.”
“Both?”
“Apparently adult life allows that.”
She squeezed his hand.
Michael thought about the phrase people used whenever they heard the story.
Bruno saved you.
He never knew whether that was accurate.
Bruno had not understood medication bills.
He did not understand business capital.
He did not know the market value of meteoritic iron.
He had probably been carrying objects because something about them interested his animal brain.
Still, the result was real.
Michael also disliked saying he saved Bruno.
He had paid forty dollars.
Opened a door.
Given food.
Medication.
A couch.
Bruno did the rest by continuing to live.
Maybe rescue was rarely a clean transaction.
Maybe two living things simply entered each other’s lives at the right time.
Each changed what happened next.
Michael eventually told the story at his father’s seventy-fifth birthday.
Robert’s health had declined, but he was still there.
Family filled the backyard.
Children ran across the grass.
Danny grilled too much meat.
Carlos argued with someone about whether a decorative rock near the flower bed was sedimentary.
Hannah finally shouted:
“Carlos, nobody asked.”
Robert sat beneath an umbrella.
He called Michael over.
“Remember when you used to send us three hundred bucks and pretend you weren’t broke?”
Michael smiled.
“No idea what you mean.”
“Liar.”
Robert looked across the yard.
“You know what bothered me?”
“What?”
“I knew.”
Michael became quiet.
“Knew what?”
“That you were skipping things.”
“Food sometimes.”
“Bills.”
“Probably doctor appointments.”
Michael looked down.
“Dad.”
“I knew.”
“I hated it.”
Robert’s voice weakened slightly.
“Then that stupid cat starts bringing rocks.”
Michael laughed.
Robert did too.
“He wasn’t stupid.”
“He ate plastic once.”
“Fair.”
Robert looked toward the maple tree where Bruno was buried.
“I’m glad you spent that forty dollars.”
Michael swallowed.
“So am I.”
Robert rested one hand on Michael’s arm.
“Not because of the meteorites.”
“I know.”
“No.”
Robert looked directly at him.
“Make sure you do.”
Michael nodded.
He did.
Robert died two years later.
Peacefully.
Complications from multiple chronic illnesses.
Diane moved closer to Michael and Hannah afterward.
By then, Michael and Hannah had a daughter.
They named her Lily.
When Lily was four, she discovered the meteorite display.
She pressed both hands to the glass.
“What’s that?”
“A rock.”
“Why is it in a box?”
“It’s special.”
“Why?”
“It came from space.”
Her eyes widened.
“A spaceship?”
“No.”
“A planet?”
“Sort of.”
“Did you go get it?”
“No.”
“Who did?”
Michael smiled.
“A cat.”
Lily stared.
“You’re lying.”
Hannah laughed from the kitchen.
“He isn’t.”
Michael picked Lily up.
He showed her Bruno’s photograph.
“This was Bruno.”
“Was he your cat?”
“Yes.”
“He went to space?”
“No.”
“Then how?”
Michael settled onto the couch.
The old ramp was long gone.