Gunter grabbed my arm. “Oh no-no, no problem. No problem at all. Believe me. You’re in good company here. I’m gay.”
Rob nodded. “And I’m gaaaaay. Likegaygay.”
“Oh, am I being sequestered into some queer sex cult? Because you should both know, that while I am alsogaygay, I’m also very asexual and not really interested in debauchery. I’m not being judgmental or anything. It’s just not my thing. So if there’s, like, meetings or something, as far as involvement, I can take down the minutes or make flyers, but I’ll leave the immersive experiences up to you.”
They both stared at me for a second, then both burst out laughing. “Tell me,” Rob said, “have you met Hamish at the hardware store, by chance? Pretty sure you’d get along.”
“Dark hair? Beard?” I asked and they both nodded. “Yes, briefly; he helped me pick out a paint color. I did get queer vibes, not gonna lie. Is he ace or does he make theflyers? Not sure what you mean when you said we’d get along.”
Gunter laughed at that. “No, you’re just alike, that’s all.”
Oh.
“Uh, Mr. Atkins,” one of the workers called out from the doorway to my shop. “You have a noise.”
A noise?
“What do you mean I have a noise?” I asked, my voice a mix of squeak and shrill. “What does that even mean?”
I went to the door, not brave enough to step inside, and stuck my head in. “A scary noise?”
One man was kneeling down by the wall, his ear perked, listening. He nodded. “Did you hear that?”
Not over the sound of my thumping heart and wild imagination, no.
We were all quiet again, and then Ididhear something. Very faint, very small.
Another worker came in from the back door. “There’s a gap in the subfloor, but I can’t even get an arm through.”
I went inside, not sure what the hell was going on. “Your arm through?” I asked. He put his arm into the crawlspace willingly? “What exactly are you trying to reach?”
Then we heard it again. A tiny little cry.
“Sounds like you’ve got critters in there,” he said.
Critters?
“What kind of critters?”
“Kittens, by the sound of ’em,” he replied.
Kittens.
Oh no.
The stray cat.
I put my hand to my forehead, and Gunter was beside me then, concerned. “What’s wrong?”
“There are kittens stuck under the floor,” Isaid. “Oh god. Last night I ran over a cat. I rushed it to the vet but it couldn’t be saved. I think I killed the momma cat, and now her babies are stuck.”
“The white cat that hangs around the back?” he asked.
“You know it? Oh my word, was she yours? I’m so sorry! I tried to save her, but she must have been asleep under my car or hiding, I don’t know. I didn’t see her until?—”
“No, she was a stray,” he said. “The kids would leave food out for her sometimes, but she wasn’t too friendly.” Then he looked at the workers. “And there’re babies stuck in there?”
They both nodded. “I was drilling the brackets in for the shelves and heard something.”
