AMBITION SERVICES

"Ambition Services" is one of my longer works that explores the bond between pets and people, while delving into some fantasy goodness.

When I turned twelve, my parents approached me with a tiny ribbon-wrapped box that was audibly mewing. 

Exactly six years later, they kicked me to the curb. A couple of garbage bags of my clothes sat on the driveway.

“It’s time to be an adult,” they said. Archie came with me, his innocent yellow eyes looking up at me from the cat carrier.

About a year later, we were living in my car. I’d stripped the back seats to make more room for us. He never complained; he was the sweetest little thing I had ever met, constantly wrapping around my legs for attention, loud purring echoing the sound of the engine. 

But it was different that week. 

I knew things were bad when he refused to touch any food, including his favorite - a little pouch of tuna meant for humans.

I knew things were worse when he hissed at me constantly. Every time he did it, he seemed to cower a little, ashamed. But he couldn’t stop. It was never his fault, I assured him. 

I don’t think he fully believed me.

Three days later, I sat outside a coffee shop on the boardwalk, quietly sobbing my eyes out. People passed by with not a care in the world; I got a few pitiful looks from some, and complete ignorance from others. It didn’t matter. I’d grown used to their judging eyes.

I was so busy feeling sorry for myself and Archie that I didn’t even notice the guy sitting besides me until he’d already made himself comfortable.

“Uh,” I said, wiping my eyes. “Can I help you?”

He didn’t say a word for a moment, and just looked off to the side before answering.

“I think I should be asking you that question,” he said, not kindly.

More than a little pissed, I contemplated telling the dude to get lost, but instead I resigned to looking the other way. It was a nice day, if not warm, for a random Sunday morning.

“You want to tell me what’s going on?” he asked.

“Not particularly.”

He waited for me to speak anyway.

“My cat’s fucking dying, dude,” I said, returning his tone. 

He raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.

“And, uh, I live in my car. I don’t have any savings. I’m working nearly forty hours a week and I don’t have shit. I don’t even have grocery money for next week, let alone the thousands the vet said the bill is going to cost me. He’s going to die and it’s my fault.”

I wasn’t sure why I was telling this random stranger my life story, but he listened intently. No kind expression crossed his face the entire time, but neither did any other expression. The longer the silence lasted, the creepier that became. 

“What if I could save him?”

I chuckled darkly.

“Yeah, like you’re gonna fork over three grand for a random girl’s sob story.”

He frowned.

“That’s not what I said.”

I looked at him, a little confused. The guy was maybe forty, forty-five, but the longer I looked, the more unsure I was of his age. The same went for his ethnicity. I tried not to stare.

“If I could promise that he’d live, would you do something for me in return?”

I rolled my eyes and stood up.

“That’s disgusting, man.”

But before I could walk away, he’d firmly gripped my right hand in his. I tried to shake myself free, but my God, he was strong. I was tempted to scream, but when I locked eyes with him, my voice escaped me.

“I swear that as long as you live, he will live. No harm will come to him.”

I could feel my heart thumping. The outside world went quiet. People passed by us, kids ran by gleefully, but their laughter was silent. No one looked over. My eyes did not - could not - waver from his steady gaze.

What do you want? I tried to ask, but I still couldn’t speak.

A favor, he said in my head. His lips did not move. One day, a favor.

I nodded, and my eyes were forced close by a strong gust of wind. I felt my right hand shake with his.

When I opened my eyes, he was gone.

At first, not a day went by when I didn’t think about this interaction. Over the next few days, I watched Archie improve; by the end of the week, he was back to normal. Days at the restaurant turned into days at the office, and nights in school turned into cozy nights at home. Weeks turned into months, into years. Eventually, I stopped thinking about it too hard.

Thirty-five years later, I was at home with “Theo” in my lap, reading a novel. As far as anyone else was concerned, Theo was my fourth cat. Every decade and a half or so, I’d briefly mourned the “passing” of my lovely black cat before inexplicably showing up with an identical-looking one. With Theo being my closest and pretty much only friend, it didn’t really matter if anyone had any cat-related suspicions. After all, there are plenty of black cats in the world.

I had just finished reading one of the later chapters in my book when I heard a knock at the door. It was around seven o’clock, and I had soup simmering on the stove. I could hear the rain pitter-pattering on the roof and felt Theo purring on my lap. I tapped him on the back gently, to signal him to get up, and he rose into a delightful-looking stretch, toes splayed. He finished stretching and marched over to his bowl of kibble, happily munching away. 

I headed to the door, taking my sweet time. It was probably just a package of office supplies, I thought. I smiled at the idea of my shiny new nameplate for the brand new desk in my coveted corner office. The journey hadn’t been an easy one.

Instead, when I looked through the peephole, I only saw a bouquet of flowers on the doormat, with a white letter attached to the stems. 

Confused, I cautiously opened the door, took a peek around, and picked up the admittedly beautiful bouquet. It had a red-and-white theme, with roses, baby’s breath, and other flowers I didn’t recognize. I brought it inside and set it down on the counter, gently plucking the letter from its place on the bouquet. It was made of a very nicely-textured cardstock and sealed by red wax that matched the roses. I groaned, assuming that another “secret admirer” had found their way to me.

Instead, when I opened the letter, I only saw an address:

44 Spring Street Suite 500

I recognized the street, but not the street number. It was a nice area. I flipped over the letter, looking for more information, but I found nothing. The internet told me that 44 Spring Street was just some office building, and so, like most would, I tossed the letter.

Not even a full day later, I received an email from an unknown sender. Every time I refreshed my inbox, the sender’s address would change. I never clicked on anything in the email, and the body was empty, but the thought of the subject line haunted me:

A Favor

When I first read it, my breath caught in my chest. I was never one to believe in the mysticality of the universe, but even I couldn’t science-away the fact that my cat had been in perfect health for over four decades. My mind flashed back to that first and only encounter that seemed like several lifetimes ago. I trashed the email in a panic.

I was tempted to call the cops, tell them I had a stalker, and move to a different country. Maybe if I moved quickly and quietly enough, he’d never find me.

Unfortunately, another knock at the door the next day stopped any meager plans I’d tried to make.

Through the window, I saw a black car parked at the top of my driveway. It had in-state plates, but the windows were too tinted to see anything. It was still running, as evidenced by the steam coming from the exhaust.

I peeked through the peephole again to see the man from all those lifetimes ago dressed in a very fancy-looking suit. I sighed. Against my better judgment, I opened the door.

“Good evening,” he said, a warm smile on his face. 

“Hi,” I replied. The silence following was awkward, but thankfully brief.

“Please, come with me. He can come too.”

I looked behind me to see Theo waltzing up to us. He padded around the not-so-stranger’s legs, purring. 

I sent a quick prayer to somebody before grabbing my purse and scooping Theo up off the floor. 

We made our way to the car, where he opened the door to the backseat for me. A chauffeur nodded at me in the rearview mirror. I tried not to stare at the man too much as he sat in the seat next to me and looked out the window, but from what I could tell, it was like he hadn’t aged a day. He smelled of an unidentifiable cologne, not unpleasantly. Theo curled right into the man’s lap, quickly sound asleep. I’d forgotten how much he liked car rides.

“Where are we going?” I asked tentatively.

“My office,” he replied, not turning away from the window.

We were there in only a few minutes, and I recognized the area as being close-ish to where we’d met the first time. The chauffeur parked in an office parking lot, and the man, Theo, and I headed towards a moderately-sized building labeled as the expected “44 Spring Street”. The front desk receptionist seemed not to notice us, despite us being accompanied by a cat. The man swiped a badge in the elevator and navigated us to the fifth floor.

Upon exiting the elevator, a flat-screen T.V. greeted us and noted that Suite 501 was a lawyer, Suite 502 was a physical therapist, Suite 503 was a small start-up company whose name I didn’t recognize, and so forth. Suite 500 was not listed on the directory, nor was it on any of the signs showing us to these other offices.

Before I could stop him, Theo started down the hall towards the evenly-numbered offices. The man followed. Across from Suite 502’s door there was a plain, undecorated door with no window. It was labeled:

Gene E., Ambition Services

Upon seeing my face, the man chuckled. 

“I know it’s a little on the nose, but I couldn’t resist.”

I smiled nervously. He wasn’t serious, was he?

And yet, Theo was there as proof.

The man, who I assumed to be Gene, opened the door and ushered me in. The room was of moderate size and closely resembled a therapist’s office, with a comfy-looking couch along one wall and a desk with a filing cabinet along the other. The room was lit by both the large window on the wall opposite the door and by a floor lamp that Gene turned on once we entered, but the cloudy day kept the lighting rather dim. 

“Please, sit,” he said, gesturing to the couch. I sat. 

“Can I get you anything to drink?” 

“No.”

He shrugged, unbothered by my callousness. He sat at the desk and clasped his hands together.

“Do you know why you’re here?”

As if on cue, Theo jumped onto the couch and made his way into my lap. His question answered, Gene continued.

“I don’t know if you’ll believe me, but your cat? I made that happen.”

I nodded slowly, trying to make my face expressionless. I don’t know if it worked.

Gene turned around and opened a filing cabinet drawer behind him. He pulled out a manila envelope and handed it to me. The top of it had the name:

Marissa Collier - 1938

I opened the file. On one side of the folder was a black-and-white picture of a woman who I assumed to be Marissa. She was dirty, filthy even, her hair matted in places and windswept. Her face was covered in ash or dirt, and her nose was bleeding. In her arms was a baby swaddled in an equally dirty blanket. Behind her, not in focus, were the remains of an apartment covered in smoke and fire.

On the other side of the folder was a picture of a small child, maybe five or six years old. He was clean, healthy-looking, and smiling, posing next to a pony.

I frowned. Marissa wasn’t anywhere to be seen in the second photo.

Before I could ask about her, Gene spoke.

“Marissa served me the most delightful coffee at a cafe that used to be on 3rd and Cardinal. We got to talking, and she told me about her young son, Jackson, and how they were living at her brother’s place. Barely a bedroom between them, and hardly anything else.”

I let him continue.

“I gave her a similar deal to yours; I’d give Jackson a good life, a normal life. But everything I give comes with a stipulation.”

My mouth fell open.

“So you killed her?!”

Gene looked at me like I had just grown horns.

“Killed her? God, no! I’m not the devil. Far from it, actually. But my gift, my ability, requires something to be given up in return - something that cannot be seen or touched. An emotional bond. Ties to something. It’s not a monetary value.”

I relaxed a bit into the couch, but his answers only raised more questions.

“Jackson lived a great life. He passed away about a decade ago, survived by his children and many grandchildren. Even a great-grandchild or two, I believe.”

“And Marissa?”

Gene sighed. He reached out for the folder, and I handed it back to him.

“She could never see him again. I kept her updated with letters and photos until she passed.”

I let go of a breath I wasn’t aware I was holding. Gene opened the filing cabinet again, and this time I saw what looked to be dozens of files, each with a name and date on the label. He slid the filing cabinet closed with a click.

“She trusted me. She loved him so much that she was willing to never see him again, as long as he lived a long and happy life. I saw that same love in you. That’s why I sat next to you that day.”

I thought for a second. That poor woman was resigned to never truly knowing her own son, to living a life separate from his, to never meeting her grandchildren. I wondered if she thought it was all worth it in the end.

I had another question.

“But I still have Theo. I didn’t have to give him up.”

Gene nodded. 

“The rules of this ability I have… they’re complex. There are twists and loopholes. It requires something metaphysical to be given up. In your case, I was able to delay the inevitable. But I’m tired.”

I didn’t like where this was going.

“All those years ago, I saw your resolve. I saw how much you cared. And, quite honestly? I was at my wits end. I’ve been doing this for hundreds of years, you know. Do you ever need to make a tough decision, and the timing never seems right, until it suddenly does? That’s where I was.”

“What kind of decision?”

“To hand over the mantle.”

“What?!”

“You don’t have to say yes. But either way, your life as you know it is going to change. Think of it this way: it’s you, or…”

Gene looked at Theo.

“I’ll give you some space to think. But you have to decide. Today. When you’re ready, I’ll know.”

Gene got up from the desk, walked to the door, and left, closing the door gently behind him.

I gave it fifteen seconds before I got up, startling Theo, who meowed at me in a tone I could only describe as annoyed. I quietly walked to the door and gingerly tried the handle.

It didn’t budge.

I went to the window and pushed aside the curtains. It was a built-in window; there was no way to open it. The glass seemed thick - unnaturally so.

I fell back down onto the couch, defeated. I realized that I’d left my phone at home. There was no phone on the desk, either. I got a feeling that calling somebody wouldn’t have worked anyway. Besides, who would I have called?

So my options were to either be a magical wish-granting being for centuries or longer or losing the creature that had been my only constant for the better part of five decades? Either way, I assumed, I would be losing the normalcy I’d worked so hard for. Could I even live without Theo? Obviously I would never be able to replace him, and at this point, I hardly had any memories of my life without him. I had never been one for making human friends, but I bet I could if I tried. My coworkers respected me. I was a regular at some of the restaurants and shops in the area. I had the internet. It was possible.

And yet… a position in which I was a (presumably immortal) mysterious gift-giving figure breathing hope into hopeless situations almost seemed… soothing, in a strange, twisted way. It seemed as if Gene had to make tough, objective decisions for people, about people. I could do that. 

But he wanted out, did he not? Did he get tired of making those decisions? What would happen to him once he got out? Would he live a normal life, or would he simply drop dead? Also, do immortal beings need to eat? Would I have infinite money, or does Gene have a day job?

I realized as I was thinking about these questions that most of them simply did not matter, or were irrelevant. I had a decision to make, and although there was no clock ticking, I could feel my time slipping away. I looked over at Theo, who looked back at me, now settled on the couch.

The decision came down to a single question. 

Was he worth it?

***

Noah had been trying to catch the cat for the better part of the afternoon, but it kept evading him masterfully. Every time he got close, the cat would disappear, only to reappear farther in a different direction, the bell on its collar jingling.

At this point, Noah had no idea where he was in town, and the sun was getting lower and lower. He really wanted to catch this cat - after all, it had been super friendly up until he tried to pick it up -  but his mother was home alone, and she needed her medication soon. He hated that he had such a soft spot for animals. 

He decided that it was useless to keep chasing the cat who clearly did not want to be chased, and so he made the decision to walk out of the parking lot and back to the main street. He was nearly out of the lot when he saw the cat calmly sitting at the door to the building which the parking lot belonged to.

He took out his phone and pretended to text someone back, ignoring the dozen or so emails about the bills he had due that next week, and slowly shuffled towards the door. This time, curiously, the cat didn’t run away; instead, it reached up towards the heavy-looking doors, pawing at the handles.

Noah tucked his phone into his pocket and reached for the door. Interestingly enough, it opened, despite the hours being way beyond a standard office’s hours. Maybe someone inside could tell me who this cat belongs to, he thought.

The cat marched right inside, and Noah followed. A sign at the front desk read:

Be Back Soon! :) 

He checked the time. He didn’t have time to wait for whoever it was to return, but at least the cat was in a building with air conditioning. He attempted to make his way back to the door, but a DING behind him made him jump.

Turning around, he noticed in shock that the cat had pressed the UP button to the elevator.

The cat walked into the elevator, and the doors began to close. Noah rushed into the elevator, attempting to shoo the cat back into the lobby, but it was too late. The doors shut, and the elevator began to move. 

DING!

Only the button to the fifth floor was lit. Pressing the other buttons was not effective. The elevator already had a destination in mind, it seemed.

DING!

Noah tried to press the STOP button, but nothing happened. The ALARM button was the same. So was the CALL button.

DING!

He looked at the cat, who looked back at him. For a second, he thought it winked.

DING!

Resigned to his fate, he decided just to take the elevator back down once it got to whatever floor it was going to. He hoped it wasn’t the top one.

DING!

The elevator finally came gently to a stop, and Noah quickly hopped out, the elevator doors closing behind him. The cat followed him this time. Noah pressed the DOWN button, but nothing happened. He reached for his phone, but for some reason, it wouldn’t turn on. 

A little panicked, he turned towards the cat, who was making its way to an office. Noah prayed that someone was in it, and knocked on the windowless door.

While waiting for an answer, he looked more closely at the door plaque.

Jean E., Ambition Services

The door opened.