Must Love Cats

by Brown, Tara

  “Can I have it so Romeo can play with it? I could build him a cat fort.” I’ve officially become one of those cat ladies.

  “Yeah, I’d be happy to help with the fort too. What are you doing tonight?” he asks with another side-glance.

  “Watching a show called Sense8 with Shawnee and eating everything I can think of. So not much.” I smile at him in the shiny metal doors. “What about you?”

  “Nothing.”

  “No hot date before the restrictions hit?” I nudge him the way he always does me.

  “No more hot dates until Covid is over. What’s Sense8?” He has a bit of a tone when we talk about his dating life.

  “A TV show. You wouldn’t like it,” I tease as we leave the elevator and walk to my car.

  “Oh really? Is that a sexist comment or merely an assumption about my tastes?”

  “It’s science fiction,” I say recalling the way he mocked my love of Star Wars back in the day. My crush on Han Solo is as strong as my belief in the force, even now.

  “I like science fiction.” There’s no conviction in his voice.

  “Since when?” I scoff at him as he lifts the computer tower out.

  “I’ll have you know, I had an English professor who made us read Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, and I loved it.” He turns to me, completely serious. “I just never understood how you thought Star Wars was the best show ever.”

  “Star Wars is still the best show ever.” I lift out one of the monitors. “Thanks for helping. I didn’t want to be a burden but this is a lot.”

  “I know you don’t like asking for help or receiving it.” He closes the door and walks to the elevator. We don’t even have half of my stuff and will need another trip down here. “I remember how independent you are.” He winks. “Unlike you, I actually recall our summer together.”

  I hate myself but play it off as nothing. “Oh my God.” My cheeks flush and my heartbeat picks up pace. “Of course, I remember spending the summer hanging out. I remembered you don’t like science fiction. It’s a bit hazy, is all.”

  “It’s okay, Lil. I’ve come to terms with the fact I wasn’t memorable enough.” He nudges me as he presses the “up” button for the elevator.

  “It was fifteen years ago. I guarantee you don’t remember it half as clearly as you believe you do,” I tease him. “You’re probably confusing me with one of the many other girls you were hooking up with. Memories get spotty as we age.”

  He laughs, shaking his head. “You’re such a jerk. Going for the low-hanging fruit instead of just owning up that you had a good time with me.” He leans against the wall. “If you want, maybe we could refresh that memory.” He lifts his dark eyebrows with the offer. “Now that you’re single, finally.”

  “No, thanks. Friends with benefits is your thing. Not mine.” I can’t believe we’re having this conversation in an elevator. I swear he does it to torment me.

  “You still think you’re better than I am.” He walks to my door with me. “And I’ll forgive you for the mean opinion, but I expect dinner for all this heavy lifting.”

  “I do not think that. Which is why I was about to invite you for dinner,” I fib.

  The moment the door opens, Romeo comes running and meowing. He goes for Sam first, rubbing against his legs.

  “You missed us, didn’t you? That whole eight minutes we were gone.” Sam lets the cat rub all over him. Romeo does his snuggling and then makes his way to me.

  “Hello,” I scratch his little face. “Can you be good while we take one more trip down?”

  Romeo doesn’t seem excited about that notion as we close the door on him staring at us once more. When we get to the elevator, Sam leans against the wall and stares at me.

  “What?” I ask eventually.

  “You’re going to work from home for the quarantine, alone?”

  “I guess so.” I shrug and act as though the scrutiny of his eyes on me is nothing.

  “Then it’s lucky we have each other.” It’s forward but the blazing intensity in his eyes suggests he means it exactly how I think he means it.

  We stare and I’m dying. I want to break eye contact, but he has me hostage.

  He walks to me, sending shivers over my entire body as he pushes me against the wall of the elevator. He cups my face and lifts. But the elevator stops and the door opens. We hear a voice and he turns, remaining too close but no longer staring at me or touching.

  I’m dying. My knees are ready to buckle and my insides quiver with shock and anticipation.

  Shawnee steps in, scowling when she sees us. She’s on the phone. “I gotta go. I’m getting into an elevator. Love you too.” She taps the phone off and gives us a funny look. “What are you doing?”

  “Computer,” I mutter.

  “Getting Lilly’s workstation for the next couple of months,” Sam states smoothly.

  Shawnee must see my stricken face. It’s flushed. I can feel the heat. She nods but the suspicion is there. “I got us some chocolate-covered cheesecake bites,” she says and holds up the bag of groceries.

  “I love those,” Sam admits, moving carefully to the side so he’s not so close to me. My heart races and I’m not sure why we’re here or what we’re doing.

  All I can think about is how close we came. And how much further I’d like to go. And how much I never want him to find out the truth so I can’t actually do any of the things I’d like to.

  It’s a conundrum.

  Chapter 17

  March 17

  Downtown Halifax

  My fingers tap against the concrete bench where I sit in the courtyard of the apartment building I’m moving into tomorrow, waiting patiently for the meeting I’ve scheduled. Shawnee texts me from the store to ensure I’m going through with it. I send a thumbs up as a reply. I am glad she is finally out of quarantine after coming home from Vietnam.

  Brent waves from the street when he sees me. I wave back but my stomach is on fire and there’s a chance I might throw up with the nerves attacking me.

  “Hey, how’s it going?” He hurries over and hugs me before sitting. “What’s this about, a surprise for Rod?”

  “You didn’t tell him we were meeting, right?” I ask, worried about how this will play out. He’s an unknown variable in the story. Maybe he’s already aware and doesn’t care. Maybe he’ll blame me.

  “God, no.” He is so chipper and happy. I hate this moment.

  I lift a folder of evidence I’ve put together for the last month and printed out. Everything is enlarged so he can read and see the details with clarity. “I have some bad news,” my voice cracks. “I’ve discovered something terrible.”

  “What?” he asks, losing the chipper happiness.

  “We’ve been played for fools,” I say and open the folder, handing it to him. “I hate showing you this but I can’t let it sit.”

  “Fools?” He’s visibly nervous but he takes it. His eyes start at the beginning of the tale. I’ve laid out the details with precision. I don’t have to say a word. The whole story starts with my disclosures and ends with proof, receipts, and pictures.

  He slowly turns the first page. Confusion spreads across his face and pinches it tight. The second page, he flips angrily and I’m a bit worried. His nose wrinkles and his head twitches back and forth in tiny movements. I’m not certain if it’s denial.

  When he reaches the end, he swallows hard and nods but says nothing. He’s silent, but I imagine a storm rages below the surface.

  “Those fucking traitors,” he finally whispers. The shock is visibly overwhelming and he doesn’t blink or move.

  “I’m so sorry,” I say in a low voice.

  “Me too, Lil. Neither of us deserves this pile of shit!” He lifts the folder. “Jesus.” He takes a deep, shaky breath. I could knock him over with a feather right now.

  “I’m leaving Rod. Tomorrow. He doesn’t know. I’ve been moving into this apartment building gradually for a bit. Taking things he won’t notice and
setting myself up with new furniture and things,” I confess. “The moving truck comes tomorrow.”

  “Lockdown is starting. I take it you timed this?” he asks.

  “I did. No one will be in the office. I don’t have to worry about seeing Rod at work. We are all working from home. I’ve taken the week off to move, and by the time we go back to the office, this transition will all be over.” My voice is calm but it’s a dead calm.

  “Smart,” he mutters and holds up the folder. “Can I keep this?”

  “Yeah, I made one for us both.” I swallow the lump that’s suddenly forming in my throat.

  “Guess I’m off to the lawyer’s office then.” He stands and I follow. “Thank you for telling me, Lil. I am astounded you’ve managed to stay calm for the last three months knowing all this.”

  “I haven’t been that calm,” I confess. “There’s a chance I might have drugged Rod with ketamine on Valentine’s Day and stolen his phone so I could let a sixteen-year-old boy clone it for a hundred dollars. All for the evidence you’re holding.” The admission is meant to be a joke, but it’s a clear sign of how not okay I am. “I wouldn’t call that calm.”

  Brent laughs but it’s almost a sob. He leans in and hugs me again. This one feels different. His fingers grip in and shake a bit and he almost leans on me. I don’t bother to remind him we’re not supposed to be hugging people during the plague.

  “I’m sorry,” I say once more.

  “No. Please, don’t be.” He lets go and sighs. “This has nothing to do with you or me. This is them. It’s their choice. And now they will have to face the consequences of that choice.” Anger mixes with the hurt in his voice, “I’ll keep you posted on how this turns out.” He steps back.

  “Okay. I would appreciate you holding on to the information for one day so I can finish my move tomorrow.”

  “Not a problem. I owe you. See ya later,” he says and turns, striding away.

  I go back to my apartment.

  When I get inside, I marvel at how much it’s coming together with my new purchases and whatever odds and ends I’ve managed to sneak out of the house without Rod’s notice.

  This apartment has been my saving grace. Instead of hanging around the house, watching Rod text as his messages are delivered to my phone, I’ve been here. Unpacking and organizing and even painting the walls colors I love.

  The new furniture I purchased has added my own style to the place, like the dining room set that matches the barstools. They have a wide shiny chrome frame with white leather padding on the seat and back. Something Rod would never have gone for. He loves the dark woods and old style.

  I walk into the second bedroom that I’ve turned into my office. With the equipment coming home with me from work today, the space is finally set up. I can’t believe I’m officially moving in tomorrow. Between working and plotting and coming here, the time has flown by, contradicting that old saying about time flying when you’re having fun.

  Fun has been the last thing I’ve had.

  I go to the kitchen to turn on the electric kettle I bought yesterday, when I hear a weird noise from the hallway.

  James said a sexy single doctor lived across from me, but I haven’t met him yet. I peek through the peephole and see two burly men, one of them is on his knees and picking the lock while the other keeps watch.

  “What the hell?” I whisper and pull my phone from my pocket, dialing 9-1-1.

  “9-1-1, do you need fire, ambulance, or police?”

  “Police. I think there’s a break-in going on in the apartment across the hallway.” I look out the peephole again to see the door is slightly ajar and the men are gone. They must be inside.

  I give her the address and watch.

  “Can you see them still?” she asks.

  “No, I’ll see if I can,” I whisper and carefully turn the door handle. I creep across the hall and push the door open a crack to look inside the apartment.

  It matches mine but the furnishings are different. As is the enormous TV that the two men are trying to take off the wall.

  I close the door and whisper, “They’re stealing the TV. A doctor owns this apartment. He must be at work.”

  “The police are on their way. Please go back into your place and lock the doors. You need to stay safe,” she insists but I have an idea.

  It’s something Liz did to me when we were little. I hurry to grab one of the workout bands I bought the other day to add to my small home gym I was planning to put in the corner of the office. I go back to the door to the doctor’s apartment and wrap it around the doorknob several times until it’s tight. Then I pull it hard across the hallway and wrap it around the doorknob of my closed door. I wrap until it’s so taut, I am scared of the trembling rubber.

  I back away, toward the elevator, and wait.

  “Are you inside your apartment?” the lady on the phone asks.

  “No, I’m at the elevator. The stairs are right next to me. If I have to, I can make a run for it.” My heart races. “Are the police almost here?”

  “They’re outside the building. Coming now.”

  “Okay,” I mutter and watch as the handle begins to turn.

  There’s shouting and struggling. The door bangs and bangs and bangs but they can’t get it open. A nervous giggle leaves my lips as I recall the frustration of Liz doing this to me with her skipping rope.

  A minute later the elevator opens. Four police officers walk out and I point down the hall. “The one on the right with the workout band tied to it.”

  “Did you trap them?” one of the officers asks, laughing.

  “Yeah.” I step into the elevator, not wanting the robbers to know it was me. “Police are here. Thanks,” I say to the lady and disconnect the call.

  It’s not exactly how I expected the day to go. But if I’ve learned anything in 2020, expectations are rarely met.

  Chapter 18

  March 18

  One day since Sam tried to kiss me in the elevator and I’ve worked at not thinking about it. Which means it’s consumed me every second since then. And now that the workday is over, it’s worse. I have no distractions, sitting here in the window seat in the living room, staring outside as it tries to snow again. It’s been a hideous week of snowfalls and frigid wind.

  Romeo hasn’t noticed the snowflakes. He’s curled in a ball, purring softly as I stroke his back.

  The two of us have become best friends as well as roommates.

  He’s exactly my speed for a man in my life right now. Which is why Sam trying to kiss me is something I need to let go of.

  A knock at the door draws my and Romeo’s attention. He jumps off my lap and runs to the door.

  I only know one person in the building so I assume it’s Sam.

  Walking to the door, I thank the gods of all that is holy that I put on makeup this morning for my Zoom meeting. He’s not getting the homeless version of me I rock most days. We’re friends, but not no-makeup friends. He’s way too hot for that.

  I take a deep breath and answer the door. “Hi,” I say.

  “How’s it going?” he asks, leaning on the doorway as Romeo decides to maul him.

  “It’s going.” I step back so he can come in.

  He hands me a manila envelope. “This was put in my mailbox and I opened it, thinking it was for me. I didn’t see the name on the front.”

  “What is it?” I part the broken envelope and see the legal papers inside with Rod’s name on them. “Oh,” my voice is small.

  “Are you okay?” he asks.

  “No—yeah. I mean, it’s weird seeing them. Divorce papers from a man who hasn’t come to tell me he’s leaving me.”

  “He still hasn’t spoken to you?”

  “No.” I pull the papers out and place them on the counter.

  “I don’t think you should look at those without wine.” He goes to the wine rack and grabs a bottle, opening it and pouring us both a sizeable glass. He hands me mine. “You’re still only allowe
d one glass, so cheers.”

  “Cheers,” I say and clink the glass against his.

  The first gulp isn’t great. It needs to breathe and makes me shudder a bit. I stare at the papers. “Separation papers. Do those come first?” I ask, genuinely not sure how it works.

  “Yeah, you get those and then at the one-year mark of separation you can file for divorce.” He takes a large gulp of wine, also shuddering. “It sucks that they make you wait the year. Like slowly taking off a Band-Aid.” I realize he’s speaking from experience and recall the story James told us.

  “You’re divorced?” I make the statement sound like a question, giving him the chance to tell me his story.

  “I am,” he mutters as a pained expression crosses his face. “We met in Ontario. She was a nurse—is a nurse,” he says. The pained expression changes to something deeper, haunted perhaps. His eyes widen and watching him I see he is reliving it. “She decided to take up with my best friend.”

  “Not Shane?” I ask, recalling his best friend quite clearly. They were like brothers back then.

  “Oh yeah.” He loses that haunted look and almost smiles at me. “I forgot you know him. Yeah, Shane. He and Sandy, my ex-wife, are now married. She’s going to have their third baby soon.” He lifts the glass of wine. “You are in good company when it comes to this particular heartbreak.” He drinks back the rest of the glass.

  I pour him more wine, finishing off the bottle. “I’m sorry that happened to you.”

  “Me too.” He stares at me, his dark eyes fill with intensity. “I’m sorry it happened to you.”

  I sip my wine to break the stare but he doesn’t look away. Instead, he says something I have been dreading, “You know, when I saw you, I promised myself I wasn’t going to do it. But I have to.”

  I’m internally screaming, Nooo.

  “Why did you do it? Why did you disappear?” And he asks the one question I prayed he wouldn’t.

  My heart stops and restarts with a jolt. “I didn’t—”

  “Don’t lie,” he says and loses all the humor we had. “We both know I tried to find you. I called a hundred times. I emailed. And you just vanished.”