He belts out a laugh. “I think they like you!” He laughs again at my eye roll. “Come on, let’s meet Frankie.”
He leads me through the door, cats in hand as we enter an oasis. Elegant cat trees sit in every corner of the room, with plush pillows spread out across the floor, and boxes of cat toys lining the walls. I also note the glass treat jar placed by the door. The lights were dimmed and a white plush sofa was in the center of the room, a black cat with white paws laying across it. She didn’t budge when we walked in, and seemed to care less that I was around. Why can't the others be like her?
Benny places the cats in little pods on the back wall. Each one was filled with a variety of toys, pillows, bowls—all the things a cat may need to entertain itself I presume. Each one was labeled with a name tag indicating that wastheirspot. There was Smudge (the brown one), Oscar (the one with tricks), Nana (her kennel was empty, probably the one on the couch), and Roger (Big Red). I scanned over the names giggling at the absurdity of some before finally landing on the final pod to the far right . . .Frankie.
“Frankie . . . is a cat?” I feel sheepish when I see Benny smirking at me as if he had pulled the best prank possible. Real cute. “Wow, you had me thinking it was your girlfriend or something!”
“Don’t be jealous, what Frankie and I have is totally platonic.” He chuckles again.
“Ha. Ha.” I smile at him, then looking in Frankie’s kennel I realize she isn’t there. “Where is she?”
Benny starts scanning the room, growing more nervous by the second. Picking up pillows, looking in each kennel, looking under the couch, behind it, then under it again.
“Where is Frankie?” he asks me frantically then yells, “Carl! Where is Frankie?”
Carl runs in sweating and gasping for air, inhaler in hand. “I don’t know! I looked everywhere for her but she’s not here. I think she may have ran through the front door when I went to put the sign out.”
“Carl, come on! You know she’s a runner! Did you give her her medicine?”
Carl looks down at his feet, a thin line forming on his face. His response is enough of an answer for Benny, who spins on his heels, frustration pinching at the center of his forehead.
“Come on, we have to find her!” Benny grabs me by the hand and pulls me out of the pet oasis and into the street. “She couldn’t have gone too far, let’s hurry!”
We spend the better part of an hour searching high and low for Frankie. Benny took me to her favorite spots: the park, the bench by the donut shop, back to the school, even to Kate’s house. Kate hadn’t seen her and decided to help us look. “If we split up we can find her faster!”
“Ellie can stay with me,” Benny said, tugging me along by the tips of my fingers. I tried to stay focused on our search and rescue mission, but something about feeling his thick, strong grip move along my fingers and settle around my hand so tenderly was enough to discombobulate my brain.
We kept looking all the way to sunset. I found myself calling out for Frankie, even whistling for her. This was so out of character for me—I have never been a pet person. Or a kid person. Hell, my shriveled up succulent farm would indicate I’m not even a plant person.
Why does anyone get a pet anyway? To have something listen to you and cost you money? I listen to people for a living, that’s enough for me.
But here I was, so guilt-ridden that something could have happened to Frankie and Benny lost her for good. He seemed a lot calmer than I expected him to be, but I kept the conversation light just in case. We talked about our favorites and our least favorites.
“If I had to choose, it would have to be a burger. Can’t beat the perfect burger.” He licks his lips, and I feel the air leave my lungs at the sight.
“You’ll never see me eat onions though, not for a million dollars.”
“What about world peace? Would you eat an onion to bring peace to this dark and cruel world, Mr. Divata?” I laugh, gesturing a big circle with my hands.
The corners of his eyes twitch up for a small second before he forces a sad look at me, shaking his head at my audacity. “That’s low, Ms. Bailey.”
“A rapper or a cowboy, or both.” His voice is a whisper as he admits the embarrassing truth of his childhood dreams.
“Definitely The Jonas Brothers,” I say with pride, revealing my childhood crush. I refuse to acknowledge the minor obsession Istillhave for them.
“Which one?” He eyes me.
“All of them.” I shrug as if this was a normal answer.
“You would’ve married all three?” When I nod, he cocks his head back and a laugh so big and breathy escapes him, his chest puffing up and out as he laughs. The sound was invigorating and cozy all at once. We found ourselves heaving and cackling together like a couple of old friends as we continued sharing.
“My cheeks hurt,” I say with a breath, rubbing the sides of my face as we walk.
“I haven’t laughed this much in a long time.” He grins from ear to ear, the joy of the moment illuminating his face, and rubs his jaw.
After a couple hours of surface level discussion, it became clear the next step was going deeper and neither of us initiated. We began a quiet stroll into a neighborhood down the street from the school.
“Why don’t you go by Eleanor?” he asks after a few minutes of silence.
