The box rustles again, and through the flaps in the lid, a little black head pops out. The cat looks around and then lets out a tiny, plaintive meow.
“Oh my God, that thing is so freaking cute.” José Luis presses his palms to his cheeks. “I’m dying.”
I have to admit the cat really is freaking cute. But I cannot take it home. I seize on the opportunity José Luis presented. “It seems like José Luis has really fallen in love. Maybe he should take the little guy.”
“Oh, I can’t have a pet.” He shakes his head sadly. “I live in campus housing. A girl down the hall won a fish at Coney Island, and she got in major trouble when the RA found out. I can’t imagine what they’d do if I got caught harboring an illegal mammal.”
The cat meows again, José Luis coos, and even Zoe gives a little “awwwww.” She turns to me. “You really can’t take him?”
Mrs. Kaminski huffs, looking extremely put out. “I thought you were a cat lady,” she accuses.
“I am! I mean, I love cats. Love them! But…” But what? How am I going to get out of this? I wring my hands. “But… I gave away all my cat supplies when little, uh, Zoe passed. It was too painful to keep them around. So.”
Mrs. Kaminski thumps her cane on the floor. We all jump, including the cat. “Young man.” She waves a finger at José Luis. “Carry this cat home for Sadie.” The finger swings to me. “You stop at the twenty-four-hour grocery for supplies on your way. They’ll have enough to tide you over until you can get to a pet store tomorrow.”
I look to Zoe, hoping maybe she’ll take my side. But she just shrugs. “Do you mind helping Sadie, José Luis?”
“Of course not.”
And just like that, I’m a brand-new cat mom.
José Luis deposits me, my cat supplies, and the cardboard box containing my new furry friend in the center of my studio apartment. “Text some photos, okay?” He scribbles his number on a Post-it on my desk, and then he’s gone.
I set up the litter box behind the toilet in the bathroom and then pour some dry cat food in a bowl. “Here, kitty.” I put the bowl down next to the box and flip open the lid. The cat’s head pops up, its little nose working to sniff out the food. In the next moment, it hops out of the box, scurries to the bowl, and basically inhales the food. About two seconds later, the food is gone, and the cat turns to me and meows. Demanding more, I suppose. I measure out another scoop and add a bowl of water next to it. Then I settle into the couch to watch, and this time, the cat eats at a slightly more reasonable pace. I feel bad for the little thing. It must have been starving. When the second bowl of food is gone, the cat licks its paw and then immediately turns its gaze on me.
“Hi,” I say. “How are you? What’s your name?” Not surprisingly, the cat doesn’t answer, but it does succeed in making me wonder if I’ve actually managed to turn into a cat lady.
The cat licks its paw again, and then walks in my direction. In one swift move, it jumps up on the couch, climbs onto me, and settles, Sphinx-like, on my chest. A moment later, the purr turns on. I look down into its little face. “You are pretty freaking cute, you know?” I hold my hand out, and it rubs its soft cheek against my fingers, purring louder.
In that moment, my shoulders finally release the tension they’ve been holding all night, and my back sinks into the couch cushions. I close my eyes, feeling the vibration in my chest. And, for the first time since Rob Thurmond put his hand on me, I feel like maybe I’m going to be okay.
Chapter 13
May
When I open my apartment door, the last person I expect to see standing there is Jacob.
Oh,” I say, startled. “Hi.”
“Hey.” He clears his throat. “Owen invited me for brunch. I hope that’s okay.”
My hand unconsciously flies to my hair, which, of course, I didn’t wash today. I silently curse my brother. Thanks for the warning, Owen. We have a standing monthly brunch date, and it would have been nice if he’d told me he’d invited a friend. But I can’t really be mad. Jacob has been tagging along for our entire lives, and Owen would never in a million years consider that I’d want advance notice. If my brother suspected that I’d go out of my way to look nice for Jacob, he’d probably think I’d been huffing nitrous oxide from the whipped cream canister.
“Yeah, of course. He’s not here yet.” I swing the door wider. “Do you want to come in?”
Jacob eases past me into the apartment. I turn around, and my spacious studio seems rather cramped with this tall, broad-shouldered man taking up the center of the room. My jacket is over by the window, and there’s no way to grab it without brushing past him. I try, though, and he steps aside, but in the wrong direction, so I crash right into him.
“Sorry,” he mutters, taking a step backward.
“Um, I just need my…” I point to the hook on the wall, and he grabs my jacket. Except he’s not just handing it to me, he’s holding it open to help me put it on. I’m charmed by this gesture, except it means I need to walk over to where he’s standing. It seems safer over here.
Jacob takes a seat on the couch while I turn around to tidy up my apartment and discreetly check that I didn’t leave any underwear on the floor. As I smooth the duvet and fluff the pillows on the bed, I’m hyperaware of his every move, and it leaves me flustered. For most of my life, I just kind of looked past Jacob without really seeing him. But now I can’t seem to stop noticing all the little details of him. The scar on his chin from when Owen crashed into him on a bike in sixth grade. How he ducks his head at first, and then raises his gaze to meet mine. The way his fingers are always tapping out a melody on his leg as if they can’t stop. Does he know he does that?
I’m saved from examining the warmth spreading over me by my brother’s arrival. He flops down on the couch next to Jacob at the same moment my new cat crawls out from under the bed and yells at them.
“Hey, when did you get a cat?” Owen asks.
“A couple of weeks ago.”
Jacob puts his fist down for him to sniff, and the cat pounces on Jacob’s fingers. Jacob smiles and playfully uses his hand to wrestle with the little guy. My cat rolls around on the floor in raptures, then gets up and runs across the room. He pivots, darting back to pounce on Jacob’s shoelace. Jacob lifts his foot so the cat can swat at the dangling string. “What’s his name?”
Despite the fact that I’m deeply devoted to him, I don’t have a name for my furry friend yet. “I don’t know.”
Owen squints at me. “You haven’t named him yet?”
I drop my hands to my hips. “It’s a lot of responsibility, Owen. I’ve been waiting for the perfect name to come along. Something that really captures his personality.”
“Giocoso,” Jacob murmurs, wrestling with the cat again.
“What?”
Jacob looks up. “His personality. Giocoso. It’s a term in music that means ‘playful’ or ‘joyful.’”
I look back and forth between Jacob and the cat. “That’s perfect. I love it. I’ll call him Giocoso, and he can be Gio for short.” True to his new name, Giocoso races back and forth across the room and then pounces on the shoelace again. I glance down at the couch to find Jacob looking at me with sort of a half smile on his face.