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Cleopatra and Frankenstein(67)

Author:Coco Mellors

She was standing in his doorway. Her curly brown hair was piled messily on top of her head. She was the only woman he had ever seen who used a pen to hold up her hair not as an affectation, as Cleo sometimes did with chopsticks or a long-stemmed feather, but out of absentmindedness. Her face, which some would describe as plain, but which had never seemed so to him, with its pale skin and round cheeks, unruly eyebrows and restless, dark eyes, was on full display. When she smiled, her teeth were surprisingly small, tiny cream squares that revealed, momentarily, the child she had once been, roguish and precocious, still visible inside the face of the woman.

“What are your thoughts on hairless cats?” he asked.

“Demonic. I prefer tortoises.”

“Live too long,” said Frank. “I don’t want a pet that will outlive me. It’s for Cleo, by the way.”

He watched for a change in her expression, but she was impenetrable, as per usual.

“A fish then?”

“Too mortal,” said Frank. “We’ll kill it in weeks.”

“Have you vetoed dog already for being too provincial?”

“Not allowed in our building.”

“I know! What about a sugar glider? My neighbors had one growing up. My brother and I loved it.”

“How is Levi?” asked Frank.

“His girlfriend came back,” said Eleanor. “So, happier.”

“What happened to the Hell’s Angel?”

“I don’t think we want to know,” said Eleanor. “Look up sugar gliders.”

Frank turned to his computer and typed the words into his search engine. Images of a small rodentlike creature with huge dark eyes and a long tail populated the screen.

“It’s crazy-looking,” he said.

“Crazy beautiful,” said Eleanor. “It’s like a cross between a flying squirrel and chinchilla.”

“You would think that was beautiful,” he said.

“Look, they make great pets,” said Eleanor. “I’ve gotta run. Think about it.”

“Going on a date?” asked Frank before he could stop himself.

“No, I thought I’d spare myself that indignity tonight.” She smiled sadly. “My dad isn’t doing so well. He took a, um, turn, so I want to go see him before visiting hours end.”

“Of course,” said Frank. “I’m so sorry. If you need to take some time off to be with him, just let Jacky know. You can have as much as you need. Paid, of course.”

This was not even remotely company policy for freelancers.

“Good luck with the pet,” Eleanor said. “I’m sure Cleo will love whatever you get her.”

After she left, Frank read about sugar gliders. Self-cleaning, affectionate, and inexpensive to feed, they did indeed appear to make excellent pets. He looked up to see if any were for sale nearby. The first link that came up was an ad on Craigslist. !!!!**BABY SUGAR GLIDERS 4 SALE THEY R 2 CUTE 2 BELIEVE**!!!! Frank clicked on the link and read the brief description requesting interested buyers to call for more information. Frank got up and closed his office door, then dialed the number listed. The voice that answered was surprisingly sultry and kittenish.

“You want a sugar glider? Sure, I got gliders. I can do one for one seventy-five, two for three hundred, or three for four twenty-five. How many you need?”

“Um, just the one, I think,” said Frank. “How many is normal?”

“You want to get it a friend?” she purred. “It’s a good deal for two.”

Frank looked at the wide-eyed creature on his screen and laughed.

“Okay, two it is,” he said.

Frank took the subway to an address in the Bronx. It was early evening and the train was full of the usual commuter types with their headphones and paperbacks and air of mild hostility. He got off at 149th Street and walked the few blocks to the address he’d been given with his head lowered against the wind. The dark residential streets were close to empty. A car passed by blaring a reggaeton song that had been popular on the radio that summer; it felt as out of place on the barren street as a palm tree sprouting from one of the derelict front yards. He reached the house number he’d been given and looked at the unlit brownstone. Nobody appeared to be home. Frank blew into his hands and called the number from the website.

“Hey, I’m outside. You sure you gave me the right address?”

“You’re late,” the voice chided lightly. “My mom will be home soon.” He saw the blinds of the bottom-floor window move. “I see you. Come to the door.”

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