Then, too, in the most unexpected moments, grooming Emmett or looking idly out the window, or even going down the street to buy a box of corn flakes, a hot violent flush of feeling would come over her: an almost unbearable wave of sensuality mingled with vanity, pride, shame. He had kissed her! Could he not kiss any woman he chose? And then the shameful thought that she had sat there letting it happen, like a fourteen-year-old, numb and flattered. And what about her beliefs? What about fidelity? Honor? Trust? She and Mitch weren’t married, true, but all the same, living together certainly meant something. She loved Mitch and she had been—well, not unfaithful, but not faithful, either!
Despite all this agitation she spent the weekend agreeably with Mitch, drinking wine, making love, and watching TV. Yet she also found herself monitoring their conversations and games, standing outside herself and commenting, as she had done at Christmas at home. One Nina romped and played, and another Nina carried on a not-to-be-quieted inner dialogue.
We’re talking … lots of talk … maybe because I’m nervous? … True, but Mitch’s talking, too, now that I know his “secret.” … He’s still very upset about being out of work.… I’d be upset, too, but in a different way.… Told him he must think it’s a reflection on his masculinity.… He denied it—hotly! Said that was sidewalk psychology.… Putdown. Never know what to say when he comes out with stuff like that.… I thought he’d be interested, impressed maybe, that I figured that out. Made him mad, didn’t it? … I should keep my mouth shut more.… He likes it when I listen.… So what? I like it when he listens, too!
Wonder if he talks to Lynell the way we talk? Both like classical music … big, intellectual discussions.… Boring, really; I wouldn’t say that to either of them.… They say opposites attract.… Mitch and I sure are opposite.… Nicholas and … No, don’t think about him.… I don’t want to be upset.… We’re having a good weekend … having fun … not even a little squabble over Emmett….
They had a pillow fight, standing on the mattress, batting wildly at each other, screaming like kids. “Gotcha!” “Ha, you missed!” “Dirty shot!” And even while she was laughing herself hoarse, that inner voice rattled on.
Hit him, but not too hard.… Watch it! … Oh, oh, no, it’s okay.… Love his smile.… Professor Lehman’s smile always makes me a little uncomfortable.… Don’t know why, sort of think he’s laughing at me.… Stupid thought? He’s nice to me.… Oh, God.… Am I crazy? … I wish I could figure out that kiss.… Thought about it last night when Mitch and I … Made me feel guilty as hell.… Wonder if Mitch ever thinks about someone else when we’re together….
From Friday night to Sunday night, a half gallon of red wine disappeared. They were both in a bit of a wine glow all weekend. There was only one bad moment. This came when Mitch, standing in front of the mirror in his jockey shorts, said he could see where he’d put on weight since he lost his job. “I’m cutting out bread!”
“How about pizza?” Nina said before she could stop herself.
“That, too.” A moment later he realized that had been a dig about Lynell, and he flushed. Nina fought the impulse to apologize. An uncalled-for remark, especially from her, but better not to call attention to it.
Monday morning was fresh and cool. Nina threw open the window, and at once Emmett was up on the sill, nose quivering like a pointer as he sniffed the air.
Nina and Mitch left the apartment together. “I heard the candle works are hiring,” he said. “I’m going there first.”
“Good luck.” Standing on the step above him, she shook his arm forcefully. “You’re going to get a job. Maybe today. I feel it in my bones. You’re going to get a job! Because I want you to.”
He laughed up at her. “And so, because you want—”
“Yes!” She kissed him.
“You’re nice to me,” he said.
“Why shouldn’t I be?”
The sun shone on the buildings. Pigeons flew up from the debris in the gutter. What a morning! Nina looked up to their window where Emmett sat on the sill. “Poor Em. He wants to get out so much.”
“Nina …”
“Yes?” They moved slowly down the street holding hands. Mitch looked troubled. His hand was cold, almost clammy. Or was it hers? Today she had to go into Professor Lehman’s classroom and look at him and listen to him, and already she knew that all she would be able to think about was Friday and the kiss.
She had come home in a blur that day and all weekend had worked at keeping herself under control and acting normal. Whereas Nicholas Lehman had probably forgotten the kiss two minutes later. She certainly didn’t imagine that he had spent his weekend anguishing over it!
Then for the first time it occurred to her to wonder what he had thought of it. Had he liked kissing her? Had he done it truly in a friendly spirit? God, she wasn’t that naive, was she? Well, then had he done it with evil intent, with seduction in his heart? She grimaced furiously. How she dramatized everything. Was there any doubt that the kiss had been an unimportant, even trivial, event to him?
“Nina,” Mitch said again, then shook his head. “No … forget it.” They parted at the corner, going in different directions.
“See you … see you later,” she called after a few steps, turning to wave.
Mitch raised his hand over his head, but didn’t look back. Nina’s ears throbbed, and she was seized by the conviction that Mitch knew. Somehow, he knew about Friday. Was that what he’d been about to say? I know what happened, Nina. You gave it away by the way you acted all weekend. God, you were so guilty! Guilt, guilt, guilt, was written all over your face! You let him kiss you, right? Right? Well, all I’ve got to say is, I’m really hurt and disappointed in you!
She bumped into a girl carrying a huge leather portfolio under her arm. “Sorry … excuse me.…” Like a ship in a storm, she was quivering, listing from side to side. But what was the matter with her? Mitch didn’t know. Just because he appeared a little subdued this morning—well, he still had job hunting on his mind.
Walking across campus, she told herself that ever since the kiss her perspective had been distorted. Worried about what Mitch knew—as if he had an inner line to her head. Talking to herself constantly. And now, half convinced she couldn’t go to Nicholas Lehman’s class. No, she decided, that would be cowardly.
But later, in his class, she sat with her head down and never once looked directly at him. At the end of the session she left quickly with the other students and, feeling worn out by tension, decided she couldn’t face going into work that day. She put in her time in the library. The next day, again, she fled to the library. How should she act when she was again alone with him? As if nothing had happened? Doubtful that she could carry that off. Would he mention the kiss? Or ignore it? Even if he acted the same as always, could she act natural with him? The problem was, even if she could, that would be what it was—acting. Maybe she should just quit the job. Great. And then Mitch would want to know why. And besides where was she going to find another job midway through second semester?
Back and forth she went, chewing on her ball-point pen, chewing over the situation till her teeth ached. Looking at the other students sitting in the carels and at the long tables, heads bent over books, she wondered if anyone else worried the way she did. What was this huge fuss about? What had this earthshaking event been? A kiss. Two mouths meeting for ten seconds. And she’d been agonizing over it for days! Why did she take everything so seriously? Too seriously! All she had to do was show up the next day as usual, sit down in front of the typewriter, take one of the long yellow legal pads—and type. Say nothing, show nothing, do nothing but what she had been hired for!
It was still sunny when she left the library. The streets were thronged with couples, joggers, Frisbee players, dog walkers, and bikers. Nina walked home slowly, and basking in the relief of finally having made a decision (and one that seemed sensible to her), she was able to enjoy the air. Maybe it really was spring!
Across the stre
et from their building, music poured out of loudspeakers fastened to the facade of the record shop. “Show me how you feel … don’t hide behind your eyes.…” Nice! “Show me how you feel,” she sang under her breath, “don’t hide behind your eyes.…” She wanted to remember that. There was something special about music that summed up an idea or an emotion. Maybe she ought to write that down in her journal.
Going up the stairs, she met Mitch coming down. “Hi!” she said. “Coming out to meet me?”
“What?”
“Were you coming out to meet me?” she repeated. There was a strange expression on his face, a wounded, tentative smile. “What happened?” she said. “Did something happen?”
“Nina …” He put his hand on her arm, blinked. “Listen, don’t worry.” He squeezed her arm. “Emmett got out. He got away, but—”
Nina heard him, but the words didn’t register for a minute. She was still in the glow that had come with having settled something in her mind and then, relieved, walking home, almost prancing, sniffing the new spring air. Like Emmett. Oh, how he had sniffed at the opened window this morning! His whole body had lengthened like an arrow seeking the target. Air! Spring! The world! And then he had looked up at her pleadingly. Clearly he’d been saying, Let me out, won’t you let me out for just a little while? And she had petted him, spoken to him soothingly. “I’m sorry, baby, you just can’t … you’re too old … not a street cat anymore.”
She looked at Mitch. “He got out?” she said. “Emmett?” Mitch nodded miserably. And for one baffled moment, she thought, Because of the kiss…. As if Emmett’s breaking free was her punishment. Then her head cleared. Energy poured through her like a jet of boiling steam. “Emmett got out? You let Emmett get out, Mitch?” She ran back down the stairs, Mitch close behind her.
Chapter Twenty-four
Their feet clattered on the steps. “I was just going out to look for Emmett again,” Mitch said.
“What do you mean—again?”
“He got out … a couple hours ago. I went after him, but—”
“A couple hours ago?” Nina’s voice rose.
“I looked for him, Nina. Lynell and I—”
“Lynell?”
“She came up to the apartment … that’s when he got out.…”
Nina raced around the turn. Lynell. Damn. What did it mean? Emmett out! Who had been so careless? Lynell?
“When I opened the door for her—you know Emmett—he went out like a streak of lightning.”
“Why didn’t you stop him?” Her knapsack thumped on her back.
“Tried to. I didn’t think that fat old guy had it in him, Nina.” Mitch’s voice brightened. “He went down those stairs so fast! You should have seen him. It was amazing.”
“How about the front door? How’d he get out the front door?”
“We should have caught him there,” Mitch said, “but some idiot had left it wide open.”
Nina ran outside. The same record was playing. The same chorus. Show me how you feel … don’t hide behind your eyes.…
“Where’d you look for him?”
“All around, checked out the alleys, everything.”
“Where? Where exactly?” She glanced up and down the crowded street. “Which way? Which way did you go?” Without waiting for an answer she started off, walking fast, eyes down, checking out the street, across the street, glancing into doorways and behind cars, looking for the familiar broad face and striped tail. Emmett was old and slow—yes, fat, too, Lynell and Mitch had been right about that—and half blind, as well. How would he ever defend himself against other cats? What if a dog got him? There were always dogs roaming the neighborhood, sniffing garbage pails, their lips pulled back in savage grins.
Mitch was behind her. “Go the other way,” she said. “Go look somewhere else!”
Mitch turned off at the corner. Nina half walked, half ran. Emmett … come on, Emmett, where are you? Stupid cat! You had your fun.… Come on, it’s getting late.… I’ve got a can of tuna fish for you … real tuna fish, not that tuna-fish-flavored junk….
A cat meowed. Nina looked around. A tiny, all-black cat rolled on its back on the sidewalk, then got up and rubbed against her leg. Emmett wouldn’t get lost, would he? What of all those stories about cats finding their way home after being set down hundreds of miles away? Or was that only dogs? She imagined Emmett trotting patiently along the side of the interstate, on his way home to Hawley, thousands of cars and huge freight trucks whizzing by.… And what would he eat? Hunt for his food? It had been years since he’d hunted, and even then he’d never had to hunt seriously. Well-fed, he’d catch a mouse, a bird, a chipmunk, play with it, bat it into the air, and finally deposit the limp body, sometimes headless, on their doorstep. A little gift she didn’t want. “It’s your cat,” her mother would say. “You get rid of that chipmunk.” And Nina would have to pick up the stiff, bloody little corpse and throw it in the garbage.
At those times she had come as close as she ever did to disliking Emmett. “It’s just nature,” Nancy said. “He doesn’t know what he’s doing. Doesn’t know he’s killing any more than he knows he loves you.” Nina had believed the part about killing, but not about loving. She didn’t care what anyone said. Emmett loved her. He knew her voice, knew her habits, had comforted her at times when she was depressed. More than once he’d licked her tears from her face. And right now, if he was lost or confused or hurt, he’d be waiting for her to find him and make things right.
She walked by him without seeing him. He was in the gutter on Cooper Avenue. She saw him out of the corner of her eye. A cat sprawled in the gutter, one leg turned crookedly. She walked past him. One step, two steps. Then turned and went back. He must have been hit by a car. There was dried blood around his nose. Bending to pick him up, Nina moaned.
In the apartment she put Emmett on the table first, then a moment later laid him carefully down on the bed. She smoothed his fur, tried to arrange his head so he looked like he was sleeping. Where was Mitch? She wanted to tell someone who’d known Emmett that he was dead.
She went to the window, tapped restlessly on the pane, then picked up the phone and dialed her old number. Busy. She dialed again immediately. On the fourth ring Sonia answered. “Look, D.G. I mean it!”
“It’s me,” Nina broke. “Nina.”
“Oh, Nina. I was so sure it was going to be D.G. We’re having a little fight.”
“Is Lynell there? I want to tell her something. Wait, no, I’ll tell you first. Emmett’s dead.”
“Emmett?” Sonia said disbelievingly.
“He got out. He was hit by a car.”
“Oh, poor Emmett.” Sonia started crying. “Nina, you must be feeling terrible. Do you want me to come over? I’m coming over, Nina.”
“All right.” In fact, at the moment she was calm, yet full of a restless energy. As she hung up the phone Mitch came in.
“I couldn’t find him.”
“I found him,” Nina said.
“You did! Great! That’s just great,” he said. “Where was he?”
Nina pointed to the bed and watched closely as Mitch bent toward Emmett, then jerked back. “What is—he’s hurt,” he said, sounding confused.
“He’s dead,” she said. “He got hit by a car. I knew he’d get hit by a car if he went out. That’s what I always said, didn’t I, Mitch?”
“God, Nina, I’m sorry!” He sat down abruptly. “You must feel terrible.” Sonia’s exact words.
“I don’t feel good.” She picked up Emmett and walked around the room with him.
Mitch put his arms around her. “I’m sorry, Nins. I’m really sorry.”
“Okay.” She shrugged off his arms. Just wanted to be alone with Emmett. She paced the room, cradling him like a baby. He was heavy.
Mitch put music on the stereo. Nice, soft music. Funeral music, Nina thought. Her nose stiffened. Her whole face was stiff and masklike. She kept walking up and down, back and forth, not pausing, sometimes
shifting Emmett’s weight a little, but continuously moving; just had to keep moving.
“Aren’t you going to sit down?” Mitch asked after a while.
“No.”
“Nina, you can’t just—”
“Sonia’s coming over,” she said intensely. “I tried to get Lynell, but she wasn’t in. Sonia cried.”
“Nina.” Mitch took her by the shoulders. “Take it easy. Come on, sit down, relax.” She just looked at him until he dropped his hands. “You want something to eat?” he asked. “How about a glass of milk?”
“No.”
“I’ll make you a sandwich, a tuna fish sandwich—”
“No.”
He read for a while, then put down his book. “Nina, what are you going to do with it?”
“Do?”
“With the”—he gestured—“him. What are you going to do with him?”
“Sonia’s coming over,” she said again in a stubborn voice.
“Nina, you’ve been walking around with it for an hour already.”
“Not it, Mitch. Emmett.” She looked at him hard. She wasn’t saying anything. She wasn’t accusing him of killing Emmett. She knew he was sorry, but … he’d been careless. He knew Emmett! Knew how he was always trying to get out. Criminally careless.
“I’ll take care of Emmett for you,” Mitch said. “I’ll do it. You don’t have to think about it.”
“Take care of him?”
“We can put him in the—He’s got to be buried. I’ll do it, Nins.”
“No.” She held Emmett tighter.
“Nina, listen, you can’t just—”
A knock on the door, and Sonia came in. She put her arms around Nina. Nina didn’t say anything, just waited until Sonia released her, then started pacing again.
“Don’t you want to sit down?” Sonia said. Why was everyone saying the same things to her? She held Emmett close to her face. He was getting stiff. She wondered if he had enjoyed his adventure. Did he die happy? Or had he just been confused and frightened out on the street? Stupid of her! How could he die happy being smashed by a car?
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