I narrow my gaze. “You’re such a traitor, El.”
“It’s the only way out of this mess.” She dramatically scans the room. “You have no customers until she returns, because they are clearly following her. When she was here, it was busy. Now that she is gone, it’s dead.” She slowly waves the cup in front of my face like a pendulum she’s using to hypnotize me.
I disgruntledly accept the cup from her hand, and spin on my heel. I didn’t want to say El made me take it because that makes me look weak—like my little sister controls me—which she clearly doesn’t. “Fine. I’ll bring her a present, but she’s not getting her job back. I’ll get her to call off this warmy way.”
Fifteen minutes later, I’m holding Portia’s coffee and a plastic grocery sack of almost stale Oreos I’m about to throw out from the Coffee loft. I brace my lower back with my free hand as I hobble up the cement stairs to Portia’s apartment. This isn’teven my apartment, but I’m about to call the building manager to complain about the broken elevator. It’s a real inconvenience.
About the Oreos. They aren’t exactly a “present,” as El had tried to force me to bring to Portia. It’s me hating to see my money go in the trash, and I can’t stand Oreos enough to eat them myself. My aversion is due to the fact when I was little my grandma forced me to eat the last stale one after getting over the flu. I was barely even able to keep anything down. She gave me one, threatening me not to waste the cookies I forced her to buy me, all while standing over me until I ate the whole thing. Gagging, I stop myself from dry-heaving at the memory, and force my brain to the present.El is out of her mind to think I’d bring Portia a real present. As if I owe her anything after she stole all my customers.
“So, ten flights of stairs, huh?”
“Yep,” El quips as she bounces joyfully up each stair.
“What is she, Rapunzel?” I grunt and dig deep into my core as I put one foot in front of the other, making it up the first flight withease.The uneasy part came on the next flight, where I sucked in so much air I should have floated up. Turns out, it doesn’t work like that. All that air inhaled, and I’m not any lighter.
This is absurd.
Did we get invited?
Nope.
Do I feel super weird?
Yes.
“I’m sure she’s resting,” I argue, completely annoyed El convinced me to come here.
“I told her we’d stop over.” She pulls her ash blonde hair back over her shoulder and looks back at me. “I think you two need to talk things out.”
“Almost there,” I grunt out, rounding the last corner of the final set of stairs. I clearly need to work out more. In times like this, my lack of athleticism is a tad embarrassing. In my defense, I wasn’t warned. I struggle between holding my breath and pulling in so much air, that I sound like a plugged vacuum. “Here!” I pant out as soon as my foot crests the top step. “We made it.” I brace my hands above my knees and breathe.Oh man. Life is so good when you are on flat land.I trudge forward, leading the way to Portia’s apartment door, lifting my fist to knock. I plan to knock so lightly that there’s no way she hears us. I’ll confirm she’s sleeping, and we can leave.
It’s a genius plan.
I reach her door and lightly scratch on the surface while holding my breath.Well, looks like no one is home, or she’s resting.I hook the bag of Oreos on the doorknob, and set the cup in front of the door, careful not to make even the slightest peep. Snickering about how lucky I am that she didn’t hear me, I tiptoe toward the steps. This is too easy. Now, to make it down the stairs. I slide my toes down the first stair, a sly smile growing on my face while I brace my back again.
I made the mistake of not checking my blind spot and out of the corner of my eye I see El is not following me, but rather, she’s loudly pounding on the door. “Portia! Are you still awake!”
“Shh!” My hands curl into fists, and they shake as I pivot and scowl at her. “You’re going to wake her with all that noise!”
As soon as the door cracks, I’m greeted by someone. Well, let’s call it a somebeast.A giant dog heaves across the hall, knocking over the coffee, only to pop off the lid, spilling it. He doesn't slow until he jumps on me and licks my cheek. He’s friendly. That’s amazing. “Ah, you have a dog.” Struggling to hold him off me, I pinch my lips together as it won’t take long for my allergies to kick in. As I push him off, I recognize him to be the same beast who broke my back, and I tense up.
“Oh, shoot, Oliver!” Portia lunges forward, grabbing his collar, but he barks rapidly trying to free himself from her grasp. I barely hear her explain over the barking, “I walked him, and his owner wasn’t home again. I was just holding him here until she gets back. This is so unlike him. He normally doesn’t approach anyone unless I direct him too.”
“Shreeeeeek!” A horrendous squealing noise wails from inside her apartment, and we all pivot to look inside. Portia leans in, quirking an eyebrow, quickly scanning inside. Panic reflects in her eyes. “Mr. Noodles is gone!” She spins in a circle, but when that doesn’t bring her relief, she runs to the window. It’s cracked at the bottom; the linen curtain blows slightly from the light breeze. “Oliver!” She calls as her head whips in all directions, scanning the street. “Your barking scared Mr. Noodles into jumping out of the window! He's running down the fire escape, and he's headed into traffic! We have to get him.”
I don’t even know who Mr. Noodles is. Apparently, Oliver does, because as soon as Portia accuses him, he turns his gaze, refusing to engage Portia. “Look at that.” She aims her finger toward him as he cowers against the wall. “He knows he’s guilty.”
“He sure does look guilty.” I fight the urge to slide my foot back. This is turning into a bit of a circus. I don’t have time to look for Mr. Noodles. I don’t even know what that is. Oh boy, she has tears in her eyes. “It’s f-fine.” I stutter out. “He’ll fly back.”
“He’s not a bird,” she sniffs out. “It’s my cat. He’s been with me ever since I moved out on my own. He’s not an outside cat. He won’t survive out there.” Her shoulders tremble, resembling dainty hiccups.
“Oh, no!” El’s mouth drops open. “He could die! We have to find him.” She’s staring at me with our mother’s eyes, and it makes my gut wrench. Before I talk some sense into myself,I open my big, fat mouth. “Let’s all split up, and everybody search.”
What did I just say?
It echoes in my head, taunting me like a dare I gave myself.
How am I going to find a cat?
