"Well," I said looking down at him making himself comfortable, my heart suddenly so full it hurt, "aren't you adorable?"
"I have never seen him do that."
I didn't look at her, too busy watching the fuzzball in my lap. Harrison's orange fur was longer on his head than on the rest of his body, giving him a baby lion appearance, and the tufts of fur sticking out between his toes were quite possibly the cutest thing I'd ever seen. I reached out and ran my hand over his fluffy back, amazed by the softness that put the angora yarn I'd chosen to shame, and was rewarded with a deep rumbling purr.
"Oh, Andrea?"
I looked up.
She smiled. "I think you've got yourself a cat."
"Or he's got me. But yes, I think you're right."
I signed the paperwork and the check to adopt Harrison from the cat rescue group while still sitting on the floor with him in my lap. I couldn't bear to let him go. When I was all done, though, the woman said, "I'd let you stay but I have to get dinner going. Let's get him in his carrier."
She watched me struggle to slip Harrison, whose half-asleep form was so relaxed he seemed nearly boneless, into the carrier I'd bought from her. Once the puffball end of his tail was inside and I'd latched the door, she said, "Good stuff. Congratulations on your new best friend."
Tears rose but I pushed them back. I wasn't crying over the cat, of course. It was the finality of it. Alex had never wanted a pet and now I had one. I'd been watching TV that afternoon and saw a cat food commercial and I'd known it was time. An Internet search for local pounds and cat rescues had found me Harrison, and now he was mine. I had drawn that line I'd wanted, a plushy orange line, between my old and new lives and it felt wonderful.
Harrison and I headed home, and to my surprise and relief he didn't meow at all in the car. He more than made up for it, though, once I got him and the food and the toys and the litter and the litter box and all the other goodies his former foster mother had so graciously provided into the apartment. He toured the whole place, meowing the whole time and hardly seeming to take a breath, and I was just beginning to wonder where the off switch was on this adorable but mouthy creature when he sat down on the floor and stared at me.
"Hungry? Need the bathroom? Want a hug?"
As it turned out, all three, in that order. Once he'd eaten and made a truly unbelievable stink in his litter box in the ensuite bathroom, where I'd put it so guests wouldn't be faced with it, my new furry friend came to me on the couch and hopped up into my lap. I squeezed him tight. "How about some TV and crocheting?"
He purred.
He also tried to eat my yarn for a few minutes, but I kept telling him not to and moving the strands out of his reach and eventually he gave up and put his head down on my knee, and his purring gradually gave way to a surprisingly loud snore.
"You're going to be interesting to get to know, Harrison," I murmured, stroking that amazingly soft fur.
My very own pet. My first-ever pet. A dream come true.
Chapter Fourteen
To see if that teenage girl I'd been, the strong-willed one, could be coaxed out of me, on Monday morning while dressing for work I decided to wear the hot pink skirt I now suspected she'd made me buy. With the matching jacket I felt like a big piece of bubble gum, so I toned the pink down with a black tank top and the sweet ivory cardigan I'd been saving for a special occasion. I didn't want to do that any more. I loved that sweater and should have been wearing it constantly. Why couldn't today be a special occasion?
The guys on the subway seemed to think it was special. I could feel them staring at my exposed legs, and it both amused me and made me profoundly uncomfortable.
Since everyone in my life had known Alex and I were together, I'd never received such attention before. To the guys we knew, I was off-limits. I didn't know if any of them had ever wished I wasn't, but I doubted it had crossed their minds. I was Alex's girlfriend and therefore not worth thinking about as anything but Alex's girlfriend.
The men on the subway, though, and the man who winked at me as we passed on the street, didn't know me as anything but 'girl in short pink skirt'. To them there was no reason for me to be off-limits.
I couldn't imagine starting to date, though. Not yet, and maybe not even for the seven years Tina had said it would take me to get over Alex. Seven years sounded like forever but also made sense. After all, every element of my life had his fingerprints on it.
So did all of Elaine's friends.
Thinking about Alex and his sudden stud status hurt. He hadn't waited seven years. He hadn't even waited seven days between some of those women.
I gave a sigh, then made myself let the thought drift away as I rode up in the elevator. Far better to think about my own life than Alex's new one. I'd been wrong, a moment ago: there were things in my life now with no connection to him. Wendy and Tina and my crocheting and Harrison, who'd spent his first night in my apartment snoring away on my pillow and allowing me only a tiny corner for myself. He was spoiled rotten already and I already loved him. I'd come a long way since Alex left. I might, and did, have a long way to go, but I was making progress in building a new life.
I left the elevator, feeling proud of my accomplishments, and my heart stopped beating then smashed hard against my ribs.
Alex. Here, in my building.
I stood frozen, staring at his back, my mind gone utterly blank.
As the initial shock wore off, though, doubt crept in, then the guy turned around and relief flooded me so hard my knees actually knocked together. Not even close. Right height, and wearing a jacket like one of Alex's, but not him. A courier, from the bag he carried.
He walked toward me, and his eyes swept over my body then returned to my face. "Good morning."
"Hi," I managed, feeling too shaky to say anything else. Not the after-effects of relief, but because I'd been wrong. I'd spent half my life with the guy and I could mistake someone else for him? I would never have thought that could have happened.
The guy passed me, flashing a smile as he did, and pressed the elevator button, and I made my way toward my makeshift office feeling like I'd borrowed the legs of someone a completely different size from me. They wouldn't move right.
I collapsed into my chair and cupped my shaking hands over my mouth. If seeing not-Alex messed me up this much, what was I going to do when I ran into him? I could hope I wouldn't, but he didn't work that far away, and probably still had meetings in his old building, so the odds were against me.
I took several long deep breaths, picturing Harrison's cute wildly furry face and imagining his purrs, until my body began to feel like it belonged to me again, then flipped open my laptop. Work would soothe me, or at least distract me.
It might have, but I'd barely logged in when Tina appeared at my door. "You're late for the meeting."
I grimaced. "I forgot all about it."
I got to my feet, and she said, "Hubba hubba! Nice skirt."
I tugged it down. "Too short?"
She smiled. "I think it's just right."
So did Gary, from the way his eyes widened as I entered the conference room.
I sat down as far from him as I could, pretending not to see he'd pushed out the chair next to him for me, and tried not to shudder. I did like being looked at, being admired, but not like this. Every man I'd seen today had been sizing me up for sex, and I hated it. If my inner teenager needed this skirt to make her appearance, then I wouldn't be seeing her.
I made it through the day and the stares on the subway, then changed into jeans and hung the skirt in the very back of my closet. So cute. So not for me.
Not every reversal is a good thing.
Chapter Fifteen
Though I knew I should, I didn't pick up the clarinet for days. It sat on the floor near the couch, and every time I walked by it I glanced at it then averted my eyes as if it had exposed itself. I didn't know why I couldn't bring myself to play, but I couldn't.
Then, after lunch on Th
ursday afternoon, the Canada Day holiday, which I was spending grumping around the apartment and picking the endless clumps of Harrison's fur off my clothes and resolutely avoiding the clarinet, I received an email.
Dear Andrea,
Thanks so much for your interest in joining the Ninja Star Players. We've been looking for another clarinet player forever and I'm thrilled you've decided to audition.
You're scheduled for next Friday, July ninth, at 7:30pm. Map is attached. If that's not good for you, please let me know right away. Be ready to play the piece I've attached to this email, and expect to do some sight-reading.
Please drop me a note to let me know you got this.
Thanks, and I look forward to meeting you on the ninth.
David, Ninja Star Players Music Director
I opened the music file with shaking fingers and studied the score. Presumably at some point I'd known how to play all those notes, but now they might as well have been written in Swahili. And sight-reading? I'd been bad at that at the best of times and now I couldn't imagine how I'd do it.
The music was from 'The Jungle Book', which was at least one point in my favor since I'd loved that movie. But would that be anywhere close to enough to get me through?
I doubted it. I'd just left it too long.
I sighed and began to send a reply of "sorry, I've changed my mind", but before I had it half-written I pulled my fingers away from the keyboard and sat staring at my screen. Without even trying? Maybe I had left it too long, but maybe not. And I'd never know unless I tried.
I had briefly considered a professional music career back in high school, before deciding Alex mattered more to me, but I didn't want one any more and couldn't get one even if I did. That I had certainly left too long. But this would have some of the same elements. Auditioning, meeting all the other musicians if I were accepted, being part of a group...
It was 'part of a group' that made me delete my response then type a quick "Got it, see you on the ninth" and send it off. I didn't feel like I belonged anywhere, and I wanted to.
Does anyone truly feel that they belong? Maybe not, but my lack of connection seemed especially strong at the moment. Back in high school, I'd always been the type to have one or two close friends and then a large group of acquaintances. Over time Alex had wound up being my only real close friend, and now I didn't have one at all, and almost no acquaintances other than at work. Monday's knit night had been fun, but I was the only crocheter there and some of the knitters kept a wary eye on me as if afraid I'd suddenly stab them with my hook. Maybe the musical theater group, everyone working toward making the show terrific, was the place for me.
Could I be a Ninja Star?
Despite the group's cheesy name, I hoped I could, so I printed the music sheet, and a clarinet fingering chart I found online to help me remember how to play, and opened the clarinet's case. Inside, I found a bunch of broken clarinet reeds but fortunately a few that looked intact. I also found a pencil, a pack of ancient chewing gum, and a silver bracelet set with three tiny diamonds.
I held the thin silver chain in my hand and had to blink back tears. I'd bought the bracelet on the European tour my high school band had taken in my last year, after saving for months to buy myself something special on that trip, and had been certain I'd lost it. Why I hadn't checked the clarinet case I couldn't remember, but finding it in there now felt like a sign, like a gift to myself, a confirmation I was on the right track.
Fastening the bracelet around my wrist, I felt my courage rising. What was the worst that could happen? I could bomb the audition and they wouldn't let me join. I'd survive that.
My first few notes bore little resemblance to anything musical, but I kept trying, playing quietly in case my neighbors could hear me through the apartment walls. Harrison didn't wake up, though, so they probably couldn't. I needed the fingering chart a lot at first but then the old skills started to come back, and I played until my lips and fingers were too tired to continue then cleaned the clarinet and gently tucked it away, promising it I'd play again tomorrow.
My whole day seemed brighter afterward. I'd felt miserable about being at home alone on Canada Day, on a day I would usually have been off at some cottage or other with Alex, but now I felt like I'd chosen to be here.
Which I had: Wendy had invited me to spend the day with her but I'd decided I'd prefer a relaxing day at home.
I'd chosen it, and then spent half the day whining to myself about it.
No more.
I didn't do anything more exciting for the rest of the day than I'd done in the morning, but my attitude made everything better. I gave Harrison a good brushing and gathered up his stray fur with amusement instead of annoyance, then we snuggled together while I howled with laughter at the movie "Airplane!" and crocheted my scarf. I did only and exactly what I wanted to do, and it felt like taking a long deep breath after weeks of tiny gasps.
I ordered pizza for dinner, and was delighted to see Bob, the original delivery guy.
"I'm doing all right," he said in response to my inquiry about his health. "Really makes you think, though."
"Definitely."
As I signed the credit card slip, I felt I had to say, "My boyfriend left me. A few weeks before your heart attack."
"Wondered why you weren't ordering," he said with sympathy. "You over him?"
I looked up. "You know what? Not quite yet. But I will be."
*****
"So you didn't go see any fireworks?"
I sipped my grapefruit juice and gave an involuntary shudder at the tartness. "This is one reversal that's not going to survive. Not a fan of this stuff. No, I didn't go anywhere, but I did see them. I sat on my balcony and watched them go off all over the city. I had a great day, actually."
Tina said, "Well, I'm glad you had fun. You'd have had more fun with me, though. That cottage Brent took me to was amazing."
Far from the half-hour fling Elaine had envisioned, Tina and her blond god Brent had been spending nearly every waking moment together. I hadn't found a way to tell her how annoyed I'd been by her abandoning me at the theater, but since she'd laughed so much about Elaine's anger over losing Brent I couldn't imagine she'd care much about my frustration either. I was coming to the conclusion that Tina thought about Tina first and foremost, and that as long as I remembered that we'd be fine as friends. "Cool. What did you do?"
"Lots of drinking, lots of games..." She nudged me. "And lots of stuff I won't tell you about because I don't want to make you jealous."
I laughed. "Thanks for sparing me. Oh, and thanks for trying to help at the meeting this morning."
Anna and Gary had booked a meeting that morning, unusual since the Monday meeting was now fully part of the routine and half the staff had taken today off too to make it an extra long weekend with yesterday's holiday. I'd wondered why, but once it started I'd only been wondering how I could get out of it.
They'd seemed strangely focused on me and what I'd done. They did ask the others for status updates, but they didn't grill them. When it was my turn, though, they both studied me like they were investigating some strange new species and didn't quite know what to expect from it, and they'd asked me endless questions about who I'd followed up with from the conference and where everything stood.
I'd answered, increasingly bewildered, until Tina said, "Andrea obviously has everything under control," then grinned and added, "So stop stressing her out."
"I'm not stressed," I'd said at once, but Anna had given me a strained smile and said, "Well, I'm glad to hear you say that. And it does sound like you've got things under control."
I was sure Tina had meant to help but making me seem stressed, especially after I'd essentially gone insane over Alex's departure, wouldn't make Anna and Gary feel confident about sending me to the conference in October.
Tina smiled. "Any time. They've been weird lately, haven't they?"
I nodded. "Like they're extra tense."
"Making us go thro
ugh all the files and recheck everything? Have they ever done that before?"
"Nope. And I hope they never do again. It's completely unnecessary. We've always operated by doing our own thing and then getting one coworker to check it out, and we've never had any trouble. I don't know what's possessed them lately."
"And today they were extra strange. It was like..."
"Like what?"
"Well, like they don't trust you. But of course they do. Why wouldn't they?"
I sighed. "I did kind of fall apart after Alex left."
"Well, of course you did. Who wouldn't? But you're fine now, right? Everything's back to normal."
"Whatever that means."
She tipped her head to one side. "What does that mean?"
"I still think about him a lot," I confessed. "I'm trying so hard not to but I can't help it. I know he's gone, and I'm getting more okay with that, but still... when I headed off for the last conference everything was fine with us, as far as I knew anyhow, and when I came back we'd fallen apart. It'll feel weird going to the next one knowing we're already apart."
She grimaced. "I can understand that. Maybe you shouldn't go?"
I shook my head. "I want to. I love them. And I know I'll be okay once I'm there."
I expected her to nod encouragingly but she reversed it on me. "But what if you're not okay? Would be bad for the company, right?"
I sat up straighter in my chair and took a deep breath to give myself time to think through my response so I wouldn't blurt out the first furious thing in my mind. Then I said, "That sounds like you don't think I can handle it. Is that what you're trying to say?"
She flushed. "No, not at all. How would I know anyhow? I'm sorry, I didn't mean it the way it came out."
"Apology accepted. Thanks."
"You're welcome." She rubbed her cheeks. "Is it hot in here or is it just me?"
I laughed. "Don't worry about it. Everyone says dumb things at times."
A Life That Fits Page 8
