by K. Ryan
“Nice,” I shot back. “So the first conclusion you jump to when I have news now is that it’s something bad?”
Cue the awkward silence. Well, I guess that was my fault too. In light of recent events in my life, my brother had probably learned from experience to just brace himself for the bottom to drop out again. I couldn’t really blame him for that either. The last year or so of my life had been nothing but a black parade of tragedy, disappointment, and humiliation, one right after the other.
“Sorry,” he muttered. “I didn’t—”
“No, it’s okay.”
Noah took in a deep breath. “Alright. So you’re thinking about keeping this cat. What about your allergies?”
“Well, actually, I’ve had the screen door open pretty much since he started showing up here last Friday and I’ve been out by him a few times now, but I haven’t really had any problems.”
I knew just as well as anyone that that alone didn’t really say much for what would happen when the cat and I were actually under the same roof, but I was trying to think positive for once in my life. It was new. And weird. Really, really weird. And a little uncomfortable, too, if I was being completely honest with myself.
“Alright,” Noah drawled out slowly like he was trying to come up with the best way not to upset me. “So what happens if you bring him in your apartment and you can’t stand 10 minutes of being around him without your throat closing or sneezing or your eyes watering...you know what I mean?”
Yeah, I knew exactly what he meant. I think I was just past the point of no return now.
“I know,” I informed him. “I just want to try.”
“I hear ya, Em. I really do. It’s just that…”
He didn’t have to say the words. We both knew what he really meant to say. He didn’t want me to bring the cat in, get attached, have a raging allergic reaction, and then not be able to keep him. Noah didn’t want to see me get my heartbroken again, even if it was at the hands, or paws, of a stray cat. He didn’t want to see me set myself up for another disappointment, more heartache, and kicked when I was already down.
“I want to keep him,” I whispered into my phone. “But I guess it’s really my landlord I’m worried about.”
That seemed to break the sad spell cast over us and Noah just chuckled.
“I don’t think that’s as big a deal as you’re making it. People do that kinda shit all the time. You don’t wanna know what my roommate in college kept in our apartment—trust me, it wasn’t a cat.”
“Got it.”
“If I were you, I’d be more worried about the allergies, but I guess that’s a moot point now. I mean, you get caught with a cat, it’ll be one of those either you go or the cat goes scenarios with your landlord and I’m pretty sure it won’t be the cat who goes.”
“So, basically, you’re telling me to start packing now?”
“No,” he laughed. “You live on the first floor. Your patio faces that kickass tree line. Just keep your blinds closed and you’ll be good, Em. I wouldn’t worry about it.”
“Right. I guess if they do any inspections or anything, they have to give me 24-hours notice, so that’ll give me plenty of time to smuggle him out of there.”
“Sounds like you’ve got it all figured out, Em. I take it you checked to see if anyone’s looking for him?”
Another moot point, but I relented. “Yep.”
Noah just huffed out a laugh.
“I’m going to take him to the vet on Friday. If he’s still around by then, that’s been a whole week. If he had somewhere to go, he’d go back by then, right?”
“I think so, yeah.”
That appeased the lingering panic that I was stealing a cat. Waiting until Friday gave his owners, if he had them, plenty of time to get their asses in gear and do some work to find their cat, if they wanted him back. And that was pretty much what I had to tell myself.
“Well, you know, Em,” Noah went on and I could hear the smile in his voice now. “Are you sure it’s a boy? If he’s been neutered or whatever it’s called, you might not be able to tell.”
“Oh no,” I laughed and shook my head, glancing at the cat with a grin. “He’s a boy alright. He’s got the biggest pair of balls I’ve ever seen in my life. And I mean that literally, by the way.”
“God, I need to bleach the mental image of cat testicles out of my brain now,” Noah muttered. “Thanks a lot, Em.”
“You brought it up.”
“Yeah, well you didn’t have to talk about his—never mind. Anyway, I think it’s good you finally have a man in your life with a massive pair of balls. You need that.”
“Wow,” I shook my head and rolled my eyes up to the roof of my patio. “Anyway...I don’t know shit about cats though. What they need, what they should eat. I don’t even want to touch the litter box situation yet. He’s been using one of my planters as a litter box, so he obviously knows how to use one, but once I have to have it in my apartment...I don’t even know where you’re supposed to put it. Do you?”
“No clue. But that’s what Google’s for, right?”
“I guess,” I grumbled. “Anyway, enough about me, okay? How are you guys doing?”
“Ah, we’re good. Cris is pretty much ready to get my demon spawn out of her body—her word choice, not mine—so there’s that.”
“Couple more weeks,” I told him in a little sing-song voice. “I can’t wait to get that call.”
That was true, but I was also dreading that call because my niece’s birth also meant that in a couple weeks, I’d have to drive into the place I hated more than just about anything and face my mom. No getting around that. And then another spike of panic ripped through me, closing my throat and pricking my eyes. Something that was supposed to be a happy moment for my family would essentially wind up ruined because of me.
And my mom.
It wasn’t completely fair to place all the blame for the tension in my family squarely on my shoulders.
As if he could read my thoughts, Noah added, “You’re the first one I’m calling when we’re on our way to the hospital.”
While the sole purpose of that statement was just to make me feel a little bit better about things neither of us could change, I still felt like shit. In the fallout, Noah had been pitted unfairly right in the middle and had, predictably, taken my side, which had infuriated our mom, which was a surprise to no one. Still, it was just one more way my family had suffered because of me. The reminder of that tragic history made me itchy.
“Thanks, brother,” I whispered back.
“Gotta keep ya in the loop, ya know? Anyway, while I’ve got you on the phone…”
I sucked in a deep breath. I knew what was coming next.
“How ‘bout dinner at your place this weekend?” Noah didn’t even pause to give me a chance to shoot him down. “We can work around your schedule—whatever works for you. We haven’t been down by you in awhile and I kinda wanna see this cat of yours now.”
Shit. He’d changed tactics on me. It had been awhile since he threw the if you don’t come to us, we’re comin’ to you, goddammit strategy at me and I’d been wildly unprepared to deflect him.
“Uh…”
That was the best deflection I had. It sucked.
“You know what?” Noah threw in just for good measure. “You think about it and let us know, okay? If you do keep the cat, maybe this weekend isn’t such a good idea anyway. There’s always the weekend after that and the weekend after that and…”
“And the weekend after that, I get it,” I laughed, relieved that he’d backed off a little for once. “I’ll think about it.”
It was the best I could give him right now and I crossed my fingers, hoping he’d just accept it already and move the hell on.
“So, other than this cat business,” Noah pressed on. “Are you doin’ okay, Em? All the way around?”
I pushed out a heavy sigh and glanced back at the cat, who was already dozing in his chair, having long g
otten bored with the conversation as soon as the topic shifted away from him.
“I’m okay, Noah. I really am.”
That sounded unconvincing even to my ears and I was the reigning queen of self-induced ignorance.
“You need any help? I mean, if you’re short a month for rent or something, all you gotta do is ask and we’d—”
“I know,” I cut in quickly. I’d heard all this before and I didn’t really need to hear it again. “I appreciate it, I really do, but I’m okay.”
Or, at least, I think I could be. Maybe not yet, but I could be. And, thankfully, that was enough for my brother tonight.
“Hey, listen,” my heart clenched a little at the seriousness in his voice. “I just thought you should know...with school startin’ up again, there’s been a little activity online. Cris is keeping an eye on it to make sure it doesn’t get out of hand, but I don’t know. I wanted to make sure you knew in case…”
He trailed off and I didn’t need him to finish that thought. In case something happens...in case you decide to come home for once...I also didn’t need the constant reminder of something that was better left buried in the past where it belonged, but who was I kidding? Running three hours away from my hometown hadn’t been distance enough, so why would time be any different?
“I’m sorta nervous about homecoming,” Noah added and I could hear the agitation in his voice to prove it. “I just have a bad feeling and look, if something happens, and you feel like it’s not a good idea for you to come into town when the baby gets here, I understand, okay? I won’t be mad and Cris and I can bring the baby to you. It’s—”
“Noah, that’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. Of course I’m coming to the hospital when the baby gets here. I don’t care about the rest of it.”
I did care about the rest of it. I absolutely did, but the lie was for my benefit just as much as it was Noah’s.
“Alright,” he pushed out a heavy sigh. “I should probably let ya go. I gotta go rub Cris’s feet or something before she starts hitting me again. Thanks for calling though, Em. You should do it more often.”
“Sounds good,” I laughed. “Bye, brother.”
“Bye, sister.”
I swiped my thumb across my phone to end the call and let out a deep sigh, a light smile still playing at my lips. Now that the call was over, Noah was right. Calling him tonight was almost like how we’d used to be, just talking and making fun of each other, asking each other for advice. It was nice to have that again, even if it was just for 10 minutes. Even if calling him meant trudging up reminders that I still hadn’t shaken off my past, that it was still very much my reality, that my past was still really my present.
Noah could worry about homecoming in October, but I was going to do my best to push it as far back into that little compartment in my mind designated to all the things I wanted to forget.
As I turned the volume back up on my music library, I cast a careful glance back at the cat, who was watching me now with tired eyes.
“That was my brother,” I informed him. “You know, the hot-headed meathead I told you about with the smokin’ hot wife who’s way out of his league? Yeah. That was him. He wants to meet you, but we’ll just have to wait and see about that, won’t we?”
The cat blinked and then yawned, stretching a little white paw high up in the air.
“You know,” I went on with a smile. “Maybe you need a name, huh? I mean, if you’re gonna be my new roommate, you should probably have a name.”
But what did one name a cat? I could come up with plenty of awesome dog names right off the cuff: Chester, Buddy, Scout, Max, Charlie, Jake, Jack, Cooper...none of those worked for him. He needed something different, a name that fit him, a name that was him.
So, because I was feeling craptastically uncreative tonight, I Googled “awesome names for cats” in my browser.
“Yeah,” I glanced at the cat out of the corner of my eye. “I’m embarrassed for myself too. Just keep that shit to yourself from now on, okay?”
Meh.
“Whatever. Let’s find you a name,” I muttered and began the lame process of perusing the list. “Oh...how about Leo? You may not be the king of the world, but you’re kinda the king of the castle already, aren’t you?”
The cat just yawned again.
“Hmm,” this time I was just talking to myself. “I don’t know. Do you want to be named after my childhood crush who turned around and crushed said childhood the second I discovered he was just a model-dating whore? Maybe not. Moving on.”
My eyes continued their descent down the list and then I saw it. The perfect name. That was it. There could be no other name for him.
“Hey,” I told the cat and his chest bopped a little in response. “What do you think of Oliver?”
Meh.
“You know like Oliver Twist? Charles Dickens? The little homeless kid who went around begging for some more? It’s kinda perfect the more I think about it. Oh...shit, and there was that Disney movie—Oliver and Company—about that stray cat and yep. That’s it. From here on out, you shall forever be known as Oliver.”
Meh.
“Well, Oliver, this turned out to be a pretty eventful night for us, didn’t it? You with a new name and maybe a new home and me not being such a spiteful, icy bitch all the time. Progress. That’s what this is, buddy.”
I was so preoccupied with all this naming business that I didn’t realize “Proud Mary”, the Creedence Clearwater Revival version, was playing through the speakers on my laptop until I heard the soft guitar strumming along right through my shared patio wall.
It took me a moment for it to sink in that the acoustic guitar I was hearing wasn’t coming just from my speakers. Whichever one of my new neighbors it was...he was pretty good. Maybe there were a few flubs here and there, but for the most part, he had the rhythm down and the general gist of the chords.
Then “Hotel California” started and my neighbor easily switched gears, picking right through the famous chords of the song and I found myself bobbing my head along, paying more attention to the acoustic strumming feet away from me than the music coming from my computer’s speakers. There was only a 50 percent chance the neighbor giving me this impromptu live performance was Finn, the bearded Greek god who’d returned Oliver to me just the day before, but I still wondered.
It made me a little nervous thinking that maybe he’d been out here this whole time. More than a little nervous—it made me sweaty and itchy. He could’ve easily eavesdropped on my whole conversation with my brother and all the little interactions I’d had with Oliver in between. That was creepy. And mortifying.
Now, I didn’t know which was worse: the idea that my insanely hot neighbor was a creepy eavesdropper or the idea that my creepy, eavesdropping, insanely hot neighbor had been witness to my pathetic evening revolving around a stray cat.
And now, even as the strains of “Baba O’Riley” played from my computer, it was time to get my ass back inside my apartment.
CHAPTER FIVE
Well, it was Tuesday. Three more days until the big C-day...er, cat day. The vet appointment was made after a careful Google search for the best vet clinic closest to me and now, all I had to do was wait.
Waiting around for Friday...I’d be doing some pacing, that was for sure. Wishing and hoping and thinking and praying and planning—I think that was how that song went. At the very least, I only had to wait until Friday morning and yes, I’d asked off for Friday, too, and yes, I was now and forever that person.
So when I got home from the café on Tuesday night, I opened my apartment door, hoping against hope, that Oliver was still there. He was. And this time, I had zero issues stepping right out onto my patio and letting him hop into my lap. We were getting comfortable with each other, to say the least, and I kept my fingers crossed that my allergies would stay in check.
Hey, a girl could hope, right?
I was so far down the rabbit hole that I even ate my dinner on the
patio and that was probably exactly where I was going to park it for the next few hours until I had to leave Oliver out on the patio and shut the door behind me. It was stupid...I really should just bring him in with me now, but my apartment wasn’t cat-proofed yet and I was still stuck on this Friday thing.
Oliver was fine out here on my patio. He had a place to sleep, food to eat, and water to drink. As far as I was concerned, what more could the little guy possibly need until Friday? Of course, there was always the off-chance that he’d up and disappear from my life altogether between now and Friday. That particular thought had another fresh wave of panic snaking all the way down to my toes.
My eyes glanced at Oliver, who was currently grooming himself on the chair next to me. “You’re gonna stick around, right?”
His eyes widened a little at the sound of my voice and his paw froze in mid-air.
“You wouldn’t, you know, abandon me right before I’m about to let you become my new roommate, would you?”
His chest hiccuped and bumped. Meh. Maawhr.
“Hmm, I’m gonna hold ya to that, Oliver,” I cocked an eyebrow at him just for good measure.
Then with music softly playing from my laptop just like the night before, I turned my attention to my dusty bookshelf. All the books were mainly decoration at this point now as opposed to having an actual function. Most of them were my dad’s, just like nearly all the vinyl records I owned, and at one point in my life, I think I might’ve had the entire library memorized word for word. Now...not so much. Now, they sat on my bookshelf in my tiny living room staring at me like a beacon pointing to all my failures.
But now, Team of Rivals sat across my lap, a book I hadn’t picked up in years, and I’d forgotten how easy it was to get lost in the politics, the strategy, the genius and foresight of America’s greatest president, and the drama of one of the country’s most unstable and transformative moments in history. Seriously, this kind of drama—the real kind, not the fake reality TV bullshit kind—this was the kind of drama that fascinated me.