Catnapped

by Gabriella Herkert

  “But he didn’t say good-bye.” We reached my car and Russ opened the door for me, pushing the carrier into my hands.

  “He left you a note.”

  “Where?”

  “At your place.”

  “What did it say?”

  “I don’t know. I didn’t read it. All I know is that he’s on a plane to San Diego in exactly”—he glanced at his watch—“twenty-one minutes.”

  “Do you have the note?”

  “He locked the door.”

  “What?”

  “I saw him write it; then I walked him out. When I got your call, I went back for the note but the door was locked. If you’re going to keep doing that, I should have a key.”

  I fastened my seat belt with numb fingers. Russ’s taking the first corner on two wheels brought me back to reality. I turned and looked at Russ, his white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel, his hunched shoulders and maniacal concentration. I’d escaped death, only to get into a car with Russ behind the wheel. The same Russ who had passed the driver’s test only on his fifth try and had laughingly described the ashen-faced, middle-aged examiner with twenty years on the job as “the nervous type.”

  “Hurry, Russ.” I was losing my grip. That was what it was. I was racing like a lunatic through the streets of Seattle chasing a husband I hardly knew who left without saying good-bye. And despite the very limited driving abilities of my present chauffeur, I was yelling at him to go faster.

  “We’ll never make it.” I gasped, my hands clenching the sides of my seat as Russ flung the car across three lanes to a chorus of angry horns. Flash howled in protest.

  “We’ll make it. We’ll make it. If these chuckleheads would just get out of the way . . .” The car leaped into a narrow opening behind a fast-moving Mercedes. I gripped harder, staring out the front window, frantically searching for a sign indicating the airport. The hot wind gushed into the car, and my heart beat in response to its roar.

  “Why would he just go like that?”

  “Work. It was about work.”

  “Why didn’t he wait?”

  “I don’t think he could. Who knew the cops would keep you that long? Not that we knew that was where you were.”

  “Did he seem mad?”

  “You could have called.”

  “I know. I know. I screwed up. So did he have to just leave like that?”

  “They called. He had to go.”

  “But he didn’t say good-bye.”

  “Small logistical problem, Sara. You weren’t there to say good-bye to.” Russ stuck his arm out the window to return a one-finger gesture from the driver he had just cut off.

  “He doesn’t even know I found Flash.” I leaned down, reaching into the carrier and receiving a bite for my trouble. Flash had had a tough day. The car ride wasn’t helping as he clawed at his cardboard cage.

  “So we’ll find him and tell him.”

  “There’s the exit. Look out.” The car screeched to a halt abruptly as Russ careened down the exit and very nearly into the back end of a speed-limit-observing shuttle bus. I was flung against the seat belt and then back, my head slamming into the headrest. Flash thumped in his box.

  “Go around. Go around,” I yelled.

  Russ was already moving onto the shoulder and around the blockade. He pulled back onto the road and we peeled down the ramp.

  “Which airline?” I asked.

  “He’s going back to San Diego. Alaska. It’s probably Alaska.”

  “Probably?”

  “I don’t know. It’s a guess. The flight was, like, ten minutes to six. That I do remember. He said that. So check the board, and if there’s no flight scheduled for then, try another airline.” Russ whipped into a space outside the terminal.

  Suddenly I hesitated, afraid. “What am I supposed to say even if I do find him?”

  “You’re not going to find him unless you put some hustle in your bustle, kiddo.”

  “But—”

  “No buts. It’s five thirty. They’ll already be boarding. Run, Sara.”

  I was paralyzed. I couldn’t move. I wanted to see him. To tell him. Something. Anything. Everything. He was leaving. I had to go. I heard the seat belt click as Russ unlatched the clasp. He reached across me to unlock the door, pushing it open. I stared out the windshield.

  “You’ve got to go now, Sara.”

  I turned to look at him, our faces inches apart. “What do I say?” I whispered.

  He placed his hands on my shoulders and gave an encouraging squeeze.

  “Try ‘hello.’ With him, it will be enough.”

  I could feel tears well in my eyes but I knew that was ridiculous. I didn’t cry. I never cried. Russ’s chocolate brown eyes shimmered. I reached out and hugged him tight, pressing a kiss to his cheek. He hugged me back hard.

  “I’m jealous, you know,” Russ whispered into my ear. Then he sat back, using his hands to break the embrace. “Go, Sara.”

  I jumped from the vehicle, flinging the door closed before hesitating, looking at Russ through the open car window.

  “You’re the best. Thanks.” I turned and started toward the glass doors.

  “I love you, too,” he yelled, the words catching me between my shoulder blades.

  I ran to the nearest Alaska Airlines departures monitor and scanned the listed flights. There it was: five fifty-two to San Diego, gate C1. I spun and sprinted toward the gates. Where were all these people going? And why wouldn’t they pay attention? They walked four abreast and stopped to gawk at every sign they saw. They toted too much luggage and let their children run wild. Didn’t they realize that some people were in a hurry? I dodged and weaved, barking an, “On your left,” to the slow-moving retirees who wouldn’t get out of the way. I rudely pushed my way in front of a large group of Japanese tourists waiting at the security checkpoint. A heavy-set guard in a too-small uniform asked to see my boarding pass. A boarding pass I didn’t have.

  I stepped aside and looked through the security gate. I jumped, trying to catch sight of him moving through the security line. The guard escorted me out of line and back toward the ticketing area as if I were a terrorist. I saw him signal to another security guard, who came over and took me by the arm.

  “I missed him.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “My husband, I mean. I missed him.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  I had no idea what I was going to say, and now that I wasn’t going to get a chance to say it, I felt bereft. I walked to the huge windows, where the brilliant summer sunshine mocked me. I leaned closer to the glass, close enough for my breath to fog the surface, and whispered one word: “Hello.” Then I rested my forehead against the hot pane.

  My breath was coming in little gasps, and my chest hurt. Ached. Truth was, I hurt all over. Everywhere you couldn’t see. I didn’t blame him for going. I was stubborn and defensive. I called too late. If I were him, I wouldn’t have stayed either. How many ways did I have to say I was independent before he figured out I meant it? We just weren’t compatible. He was sharing and I was solo. Total opposites.

  I stepped back from the window and dropped into one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs the airline provided. I wrapped my arms around myself and shivered with the cold from the air conditioner. I pulled my feet up and rested them on the edge of the chair. I laid my head down on my upraised knees.

  “The one thing I’ve learned from this life is that you have to make your own chances. Missing him here doesn’t have to be permanent. Nothing is until you’re dead,” Russ’s soothing tenor said behind me.

  I lifted my head to look at him. I knew his history. Despite his outward joie de vivre, Russ hadn’t known much real love. His lover had committed suicide without leaving a note, devastating Russ. And yet here he was, advocating emotional risk. I was such a coward.

  He sat down beside me, putting his arm around my shoulders. “You’ve got a real chance here. So you missed the big good-bye scene at the airport. N
o big deal. Call him. Or better yet, get on a plane and go there.”

  “I can’t just show up like that.”

  “Sure you can. You’re his wife.”

  I cleared my throat. “It’s not that easy.”

  “It can be. If you let it.” He lifted his head and looked straight into my eyes. “Try, Sara. Try hard to be happy. Tell him you want to be married to him. Tell him you wish he were here.”

  “He left,” I whispered.

  “He went to work. It’s not the same as leaving.”

  “You’re right.” I sat up straighter. “I’m going to go home and call him. Tell him I’m sorry he’s gone.”

  “Getting on a plane is more immediate. And ‘I love you’ is more to the point.”

  “When it comes to my personal life, I’ve never been a big proponent of getting to the point.”

  He laughed, rising to his feet and reaching out for my hand.

  “That is as accurate a statement as I’ve ever heard anywhere.” He pulled me to my feet and we began to walk out of the waiting area. We strolled out. Now that I was no longer in a hurry, the crowds had miraculously vanished. And I didn’t feel a need to rush. Connor wouldn’t be in San Diego for a couple of hours. I didn’t want to talk to a machine. I wanted to talk to him. In person. Russ had a point. My situation wasn’t like his. I could still make things work. I just had to try. Give a little. I could do that. Connor seemed willing to do his part. We could talk about it tonight. Maybe schedule another visit.

  I absently followed Russ to the passenger side of my car, where he produced my keys and opened the door. I put one foot in, then halted, pulling my leg out of the door and turning to face Russ. I held out my hand.

  “On second thought, I’ll drive.”

  “I didn’t actually hit anything this time.”

  “ ‘This time’ being the operative phrase.”

  “A good memory is an unpardonable offense in a true friend.” He handed me the keys.

  “Thanks,” I said as I pulled out of the parking space.

  “Sure. Any time. For what?”

  “Helping me. Talking me in off the ledge.” I slowed at the parking booth and slid the parking ticket Russ handed me into the machine. The electric arm flew upward.

  “Jeez,” I said.

  “Here’s your hat. What’s your hurry?” Russ added.

  We laughed. It felt good. Almost normal. We drove in silence for some time. Even Flash had stopped his crying. It was strange. Russ didn’t usually allow for silence. He always seemed to need to fill the empty spaces. Tonight he didn’t. I was both grateful and unnerved.

  “What are you thinking about?” I asked.

  “You. Connor. You and Connor. You and me.”

  “It has been you and me for a long time. Is that what you meant when you said you were jealous?”

  “Partly. I’m not used to having to share. You always tell me about things first. Work. Family. What you’re thinking. Or you used to. Now you’re racing home to swap stories with someone else. He gets to hear all the good stuff first. Did you realize that we aren’t even talking on the phone every day anymore? The guy is here for a week and you’re forgetting who your friends are.” His voice was soft, stripped of its usual humor, although a quick glance in his direction showed a small smile.

  I did understand. Russ hadn’t been in a serious relationship in years, since his partner’s suicide, but he hadn’t lived the life of a cloistered monk either. Every time there was a new man in his life, I held my breath, waiting to be replaced. Expecting to come second.

  “You’re still my best friend, Russ.” I reached over and squeezed the hand resting on the gearshift.

  “It’s okay.” He shifted in his seat, tugging at the shoulder harness. “Besides, we’re not supposed to be talking about me. We’re fixing you today, remember? You are going to call him, aren’t you?”

  “Yes, Mother.”

  “It would be better if you went to see him. We could turn around. You could still catch a plane tonight. It’s much more romantic.”

  “I got the impression preplanning might be required. San Diego is just a convenient spot for a base. I gathered that they didn’t necessarily spend much time actually working from there. By the time I got to his place, he could be gone. And he didn’t leave any clues about how long ‘gone’ might be. Hanging around waiting for him to show up isn’t my idea of romance. Besides, I’m better from a distance.”

  “I got the distinct impression he preferred proximity.” I glanced at him in time to catch a flash of his wriggling eyebrows.

  “You have a one-track mind.”

  “Since I’m not the one waking up next to Mr. Gorgeous, I’ve been forced to rely on my one-track mind for entertainment.”

  “Try getting a hobby.” I flicked on the turn signal and passed a slow-moving truck. In the distance, I could see the skyline of the city as we neared our exit.

  “I have a hobby. Analyzing you. Can I ask you a question?”

  “Can I stop you?”

  “Why were you so convinced that Connor wasn’t coming back? I mean, I only talked to him a couple of times, but he made it pretty clear he wasn’t going anywhere. Not for long, anyway.”

  I considered the question. I couldn’t really explain why I had been so sure that Connor would go and not come back. It wasn’t anything he’d said. In fact, he’d been so sure that we could work things out that we’d never really discussed his leaving. I just hadn’t expected it to feel like it had. It was so sudden. And extreme. I knew it was ridiculous to miss something you’d had for only a week, but I did miss Connor. Him and the idea of him, too. Not that it made any sense to me. It just was.

  “Why, Sara?”

  I took the exit. The streets were nearly deserted. I didn’t try to answer him until we were parked in the lot, the engine off.

  “I’m not sure I can explain it so you can understand.”

  “You don’t really have to explain it to me, Sara. But maybe you ought to spend a little time figuring it out for yourself. So the next time you’re not quite so out-there.”

  I turned and looked at him, peering through the gloom. “How very odd.”

  “What?”

  “You giving me advice on how not to overreact.”

  He chuckled quietly. “There’s a first time for everything,” he said.

  We got out of the car and walked to the building. I carried Flash in his little cardboard box. He reached out a paw to swat at me. Russ entered the code in the keypad. Smiling, I made a mental note to ask the manager to change the code as soon as possible. We climbed the stairs, stopping outside my door.

  I cleared my throat. “Thanks for driving me to the airport. And helping me.” I hugged him around Flash. He hugged me back.

  “Any time.” His response was quiet, subdued even.

  I lifted my head to look at him. He seemed years older, his eyes sad.

  “I really need to go.” I gestured toward the door.

  “Tell him I said hello.”

  “I will.” I stepped into the apartment and closed the door. Flash jumped out of the carrier the second after I opened it, racing into the living room, darting toward the kitchen.

  If I closed my eyes, I could see Connor standing at the end of the hall, bathed in golden light, just as he had been a few days ago.

  “Meow.” Flash came back, rubbing against my legs and head-butting my sneakers before reaching out with a paw for a quick swipe at an offending shoelace. I reached out and flipped on the overhead light.

  “Hey, buddy. I bet you’re hungry. Let’s see what we’ve got for dinner.” I reached down to pet him, his back arching in pleasure. He purred loudly, seemingly none the worse for his recent adventures. I had never had a pet, but Flash’s apparent appreciation for my company was pretty nice. I straightened and started down the hall, only to grab the wall for support when my newfound friend decided to try to take me out of the play.

  “Look out. You may not realiz
e this, but if I fall on you, you die, cat.” Flash, completely unconcerned with the threat to his life, sat down in the center of the narrow hallway and tucked his tail around his hindquarters, nonchalantly cleaning a paw.

  “Excuse me.” I hesitated, then stepped over him, keeping a close eye on the would-be assassin.

  I went to the kitchen and spied the note sitting on the kitchen table. I read it once, then more carefully. He had to go. He wanted to tell me in person but he couldn’t find me. A phone number. Three lines. Signed, Love, Connor. Love. Smiling, I began rummaging in the cupboards, coming up with a can of tuna. I watched while Flash inhaled the fish; then I headed into the bedroom.

  The bedside lamp glowed softly. Connor had made the bed. Everything in its place. I walked to the closet and pulled the doors open, stopping at the small gap in clothes that indicated where his few items had hung. I reached up to touch the empty hangers before pushing the doors closed. I walked to the dresser and stopped, my hands resting on the drawer pulls. I pulled the drawer open slowly, a surprised laugh escaping from between clenched lips. One pair of socks, one pair of shorts. I carefully straightened the articles before pushing the drawer closed and resting my hands on the dresser top. I looked up, straight into the mirror. For a second I really looked at myself, trying to see what he saw. Instead I was confronted with the same wild curls and pale complexion that had burdened me my whole life. I reached out and covered my reflection with one hand. I caught a streak of gray in the reflection as Flash launched himself onto the bed, immediately rolling around and chasing his tail. Laughing, I turned.

  “I never said you could sleep with me, pal. For the record, a girl likes to be asked.” Flash turned and twisted, reaching out to bat a small object that went sailing with the force.

  “If you aren’t going to play nice, I’m going to have to oust you.” I walked around the bed to retrieve the missile. It was nestled against the leg of the bedside table, and I reached down to pick it up, hesitating midway as I recognized the jewelry box. It was small, a square of midnight velvet. I held it in the palm of my hand as I backed up, sitting abruptly when my legs felt the bed. Flash immediately reached around me to have another whack at the box, but my fingers closed protectively around it. I flipped up the lid and stared inside. A narrow platinum band winked up at me. I reached in and pulled the ring free from its moorings, placing the box on the bed, where the cat immediately pounced on it. I brought the ring to my lips, barely breathing; then I held it out at arm’s length. A glint on the inside of my ring lured me into investigating the delicate inscription. The date we were married and one word: Instinct.