FOR ALWAYS by Jo Anne Jensen Later that night, Angie sat across from her mother at the kitchen table. She leaned against the straight back of her chair. The strong overhead light reflected off the formica finish of the table top. Angie looked over at her father’s empty place. He had to work late and didn’t get home in time for dinner. The light sparkled off the gold rim of his plate. She watched her mother cutting a slice of roast beef into tiny pieces. Her knifeand fork clinked against the plate. Angie smelled the roast beef mixed with the smell of potatoes and gravy. She leaned over her plate and felt the steam rising from her potatoes. She sat up straight against the back of her chair. Angie felt the warm weight of her kitten on her lap. Sliding her hand underneath his stomach, she felt the steady thumping of his heart. She moved her hand and caressed his furry back. His long tail waved lazily and tickled her bare leg. Her mother’s fork clinked against the side of her plate. Angie’s ponytails brushed across her neck as she looked up. Her mother was looking at her. Her eyebrows were drawn together. Four creases ran parallel across her forehead. A lock of hair swung down and touched her left eyebrow. She pushed it back off her forehead. “Angie, put that cat down and start eating.” Angie nodded. She slid her hand under the kitten and lowered him to the floor. He stood on the beige tile, looking up at her. The light made yellow glints in his green eyes. “Angela,” her voice was sharp, “now eat those potatoes before they get cold.” Angie picked up her fork and looked at the potatoes. A thin film of grease floated on top of the gravy. She stirred them slowly with her fork. The gravy broke through the retaining wall of potatoes and ran into a pile of green beans stacked next to them. She licked the potatoes off the fork and tasted the salt in them. She swallowed. “Mommy,” Angie lay her fork on her plate . “When’s my Daddy coming?” Her mother stabbed a forkful of beans, ‘You'll be asleep.” Angie slid down in her chair and put her hands over her eyes. She looked up to the ceiling and played peek-a-boo with the light. “Mommy, can I stay up and show my Daddy Bibbins?” she looked at the kitten who was curled on the floor beside her chair. “No, you may not. Now sit up and eat before I put you to bed.” Sitting with her back away from the chair, she reached across her Angie held her right hand behind her and made the screen door close quietly. The sun poured through the screen and cast twin squares of light on the kitchen floor. Her blonde ponytails brushed across her shoulders as she walked to the middle of the light-square nearest her. Her bare feet didn’t make any sound on the sun warmed tile. A dusty blonde strand of her hair escaped from one of her ponytails and swung across her eye. She brushed it back with her right hand and wiggled her loose front tooth with her tongue. Angie looked across the room and saw her mother peeling pototoes in front of the sink. Her short black curls bobbed and her elbows moved up and down as she worked. Angie cradled a black kitten in her left arm. She stroked her hand down his back, feeling the ridge of his shoulder blades through the ebony fur. She lifted the kitten with both hands around his stomach and held ae against her chest. The kitten’s tiny claws dug into her pink gingham ouse. She licked her lips before she spoke, “Mommy.” The starched skirt of her dress rustled as her mother turned around. She held a paring knife in one hand and a half peeled potato in the other. “What in the world is that?” she pointed at the kitten with the handle of the knife. “A kitty,” Angie rubbed one bare foot along the other. Her mother brushed a limp strand of black hair off of her forehead, ‘‘Where did you get it?” “His name is Bibbins,” Angie set her lips stubbornly and looked up at her mother. “I don’t care what its name is,”’ her eyebrows drew together. The lines across her forehead etched deeper. ‘What are you doing with it?” “I found him in the field.” The kitten mewed and wiggled in her arms. “He wasn’t anybody’s and now he’s mine.” “Oh,” the strand of hair flopped back across her forehead as she nodded, ‘‘it’s yours, is it?” She caressed the kitten’s furry back and looked up at her mother, “Please, Mommy. Please let me keep him for always.” Her mother smiled slowly. Two wrinkles ran from the sides of her nose down to the corners of her mouth. The skin at the sides of her eyes crinkled. “All right, you keep it. But I’m not taking care of it. Now go wash those hands before your Daddy gets home.” Her mother turned back to the sink. The skirt of her dress rustled softly then settled motionless over her hips. Angie lifted the kitten to her face. His pink tongue peeked out of his mouth as he yawned. His furry tongue tickled her nose. “You're my kitty,” she whispered, “for always and always and always.” the glass while she lifted it to her mouth. “I have a kitty for always,” she whispered into the glass. Angie lay stomach down between the clean smelling sheets of her bed. She shut her eyes to block out the shaft of light that came from the living room. 7 She could hear her parents conversing in the living room. She tried to hear what they were saying, but the clock on her dresser was ticking too loudly. She opened her eyes when she heard them walk from the living room toward their bedroom. Her father’s heavy foot steps followed her mother’s quick light ones. The loose board in the hall creaked as they walked past her door. 6 7 plate and picked up her glass of milk. The milk sloshed up the sides of