I push my door open and grab my tangled crutches from the back. As I stand, blood rushes to my knee, pooling and making it instantly throb like it does every time I stand. I make my way to the front of my truck, where a tiny black cat is huddled into a ball.
“What in God’s name are you doing out here?” I scold it. “Don’t you have, like, an owner or a mom or something?” I take another fleeting look behind where my Tahoe is idling, and then forward. The area is heavily wooded, clear from driveways and houses. It’s at least ten miles to where ‘apartment row’ begins, which is really the only thing out here.
It meows a pathetic and scratchy sound as it stares up at me.
I turn my attention to the side of the road, squinting in hopes of seeing a mama cat come bounding this direction to answer the calls. It doesn’t. Instead, a car comes driving the opposite direction too fast. I hobble toward the small cat and scoop it up in time to be sprayed by a mud puddle across my front.
I drop my head back and growl at the sky before looking at the small cat. “What in the hell am I going to do with you?” I ask the little ball of fun that’s making a bed in the crook of my arm. I glance from my crutches to the door of my truck, a short distance that seems nearly impossible to reach. As I begin to move, the cat slides, digging its tiny, razor-sharp claws into my forearm. The only positive side is it momentarily distracts me from the throbbing sensation in my knee.
I slide my crutches into the back and pull myself into my SUV, my breathing labored—a harsh reminder of how long my recovery is going to be.
“I’ve got some bad news for you: my roommate’s allergic to cats. So I’ve pretty much got one option, and I don’t know how this is going to go. But let’s find out. By the way, you owe me. Kayla was ready and waiting for me, and you’ve just successfully ruined my plans.” It meows again. “Yeah, you know what you’ve ruined, don’t you?” I glance at my leather passenger seat and the gear in my back seat. Out of all the random shit in here, I don’t see a single sweatshirt or coat to place him on, and I know his claws will destroy the interior.
“All right. Let’s make a deal. I’ll find you a warm place to stay tonight if you promise to keep your claws far from this area.” I draw an invisible square around my manhood region. “Do you agree to these terms?”
The cat releases another scratchy cry and then lies down on my lap.
“I’m going to take that as a ‘yes,’ but don’t you betray me. I’m from Jersey. I have no problem setting you loose out here again.”
I grab my phone and send a text to Kayla.
Me: Sorry. I’ve got to reschedule. Something came up.
I put my Tahoe into gear and head to the only person’s house I can think of who might be willing to help and that I know won’t be offering the cat beer for breakfast.
I use a single crutch as I make my way across the parking lot to the apartment’s front door with the mat out front that reads ‘Welcome, Y’all.’
I knock three times and wait. The tiny cat weighs next to nothing, but its claws are like Velcro.
The door pulls open and long, dark hair and blue eyes stare at me. “Um, hi.” Her Southern accent drawing the word out.
“Who is it?” Rose calls from inside the apartment.
“Your favorite bio partner,” I say.
Rose laughs. “You’re my only biology partner.” She comes to the door. “Come on in,” she says, shucking her thumb behind her.
Olivia frowns, a protest clear in her eyes, and then she glances at the cat as it squeaks another meow. She shakes her head. “What is that?”
“Pretty sure it’s a cat,” I say.
Olivia looks at Rose. “Is this for your class project?”
I flash a smile. In my experience, smiling always helps lay a solid foundation before a conversation, but I should have known the rules don’t apply to Olivia. I should have realized that this morning when she refused to tell me her name or talk to me. “Well, interesting story. I found this little dude when he tried committing suicide by running in front of my truck.”
Her face softens, but it’s Rose who coos at him and looks at me like I’m a hero.
“I can’t take him home because my roommate’s allergic to the world, but especially cats, and most of the people I know can’t take care of themselves, so I was hoping…”
“Yes,” Rose answers, reaching for the cat.
“No,” Olivia says, shaking her head. “No way.” She turns her attention to Rose. “We can’t have a cat here. It’s in our lease. Plus, what if it has some disease or fleas? And have you seen what a cat can do to a couch or curtains?” She shakes her head again. “No way.”
“You want me to put it back outside?” I ask
Her blue eyes snap to me. “Yes. You probably took it from its mother.”
I shake my head. “I looked. This cat was in the middle of nowhere, miles from any houses, and there was nothing else around. But, if you want, I can put him back out there.” I reach for the cat that Rose is petting and making quiet promises to.
“You can’t do it tonight,” Olivia says on a huff. “An owl or something will make a snack of him. He’s tiny.”
Rose’s lips climb into a smile, but she doesn’t look at Olivia or me.
“Stop getting attached,” Olivia tells her. “We literally can’t have a cat. We’ll get kicked out.”
Rose lifts the cat, making kissing sounds at him. “Tell her she worries too much. Yes. What could a sweet little thing like you do?”
“Don’t tempt him to show us,” Olivia says, her Southern accent teasing the words. I take a moment to take her in while she stares at the cat. Her raven hair frames her face, and freckles pepper her cheeks and nose, and when her eyes turn back to me, I realize her eyes are lighter than I remembered.
“How’s your knee feeling? One crutch, this is a new improvement,” Rose says.
“It was more of a necessity, but, yeah.”
Rose grins and takes a step back, farther into her apartment. “You want to come in? We’ve got some food and were just watching TV.”
I feel like all I do is eat and watch TV since my accident, but a change of scenery is a welcomed change. Then I glance at my shirt and the streaks of mud drying across my chest. “I’m a mess.”
“Well, it’s a good thing I’ve got you covered.” Rose turns, disappearing into her room. “What size are you?” she yells?
I’m about to shout back an innuendo that I know she’d laugh at but swallow the joke as Olivia shifts, catching my attention. She looks wholesome and pure in a way where jokes about torpedo sized condoms would likely have her looking at me like I was what is wrong with humanity.
“Large or extra-large usually works,” I call back to her.
“You’ve got big shoulders,” she says from her room, once again opening the stage for a million innuendos that are nearly impossible to hold back.
“You should just say it,” Olivia says. “You look like you’re about to hyperventilate by keeping the words in.”
“What words?”
She drops her chin, but there’s the note of a smile on her face. “I live with Rose. Trust me, your jokes will be PG compared to what she shares.”