It isn't the realization that they find me uninteresting that hurts so much. It's how nothing really changed until Becca mentioned: "Wait a minute, is his birthday the 4th or the 5th?" Mom replied that it was the 7th. Dad replied that it was the 2nd. They debated which one it was until finally Mom went back through her phone to settle it. She didn't pull up a note list. Or photos. She pulled up a calendar. Then changed the display year back to 2012. Then she frowned after scanning the page and changed it to 2011. Then 2010. "Ah, here it is." she said, gesturing to one of the events on the calendar. It was labeled: 'Induce'.

"It was the 6th."

Becca commented surprised: "Oh, today is the 6th."

Mom and Dad's eyebrows went up. "Oh." Dad said. "In that case, go find your brother so we can tell him happy birthday."

I sat there. The numbness that I felt spreading down my limbs to my fingers was excruciating. It felt like every shred of my soul was sliding into oblivion, a black pit of soothing terrifying nothingness.

"He isn't in his room" Becca announced, coming back into the living room.

Dad didn't even look up from his computer this time. "Try outside."

I couldn't stay in the house any more and followed Becca outside. She yelled a few times for me from the porch. The only answer was my faint whisper: "I am here," spoken from the remaining shriveled shreds of my voice. She didn't hear it. Just the wind.

Becca shrugged and turned back into the house. I could hear voices talking, but couldn't muster the energy or courage to face what they might be saying.

I started walking. I don't remember climbing the fence into the woods, or even getting wet crossing the creek. I must have tripped a few times, because I was quite dirty and wet. Normally that would be alarming, because this was no season to be out in a t-shirt and jeans, wet, without shelter. But the biting cold was something to hold on to, something that showed me that I actually was alive. I didn't know if I wanted to be, but I clung to that like a jumper holds onto the bridge railing near the end.

I don't know how long I walked either. Or when I laid down. I was laying there staring up at the tree leaves and the pattern of the cold sun coming through them. Thinking about what the witch said. If my parents reported me missing, then I should be visible to anyone searching for me. If. But then if they found me, I'd have to go back to that. Pretend that this was all an accident. Pretend I didn't know how little they cared about me. I had always known. I had just fought against it refusing to believe it was true. All my angry raging. All my bleak depression. There was a cause for it after all. And it wasn't my fault. My mind kept working to try to figure out if there was a way it WAS my fault. Because if it was my fault, I could do something to fix it. I kept coming up empty as my blood slowed and my temperature dropped.

But then everything changed.

A warmth enveloped my hand briefly, then my chest. I looked down to see Hondo, my cat, sprawling out on my chest, staring at me with his large unblinking eyes. His grumpy face told me that he was most displeased with my choice to be out in the cold. But his purr, firing on only 2 of the 8 cylinders, told me that he would make that choice to be with me even in the cold. He kept staring at me. He could see me.

The relief, and the grief, washed over me like an avalanche. I couldn't deny the pain. I wasn't actually numb. But I wasn't gone. I wasn't missing. Not to this creature who cared.

The house was mostly dark when I got back. It took me a long time to figure out where I was and how to get home. Hondo followed me faithfully, watching me carefully whenever I stopped. I no longer felt cold by the time I got home, so I probably had hypothermia. No one noticed that I entered the house though. Only 3 places had been set for dinner, and no food was stored as leftovers. I got some crackers and some cheese and quietly went to my room. I ate them slowly sitting on the floor against my bed. Hondo got his share of the cheese as he lay in my lap.

When I got in bed, I wedged myself in the gap between the mattress and the wall, shaking the covers out to look like the bed was empty, Hondo tucking himself across my neck and rumbled in his quiet staccato. I felt asleep quickly, slowly warming up.

Becca found me in the morning, laughing at how she had missed seeing me there yesterday. It was a comfortable way to dodge the truth.

At least I had Hondo.

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