“Its tail?”
“Yeah, a lot of cats use their tails to talk. For instance, if it’s upright, like a question mark, they’re happy. If it’s whipping quickly side to side, that means they’re agitated.”
That makes a lot of sense, yet it still seems foreign to me. Dogs are much easier to understand—you can read their faces. Cats, on the other hand, only seem to have one expression.
Art extends my hand toward the cat. It crouches and sniffs it. I watch as its thin tail goes from slowly swishing side to side to upright. A moment later, it begins to purr, and butts its head against my hand.
“That’s a good girl.” Art beams and scratches under its chin.
“How can you tell it’s a girl?”
“Ninety-five percent of all calicos and tortoiseshells are female. Just like eighty percent of orange ones are male. Something to do with the genetics of coat colors.” He shrugs. “Limit your petting to the forehead area, back of the ears, or its cheeks. Only pet her body if she does it for you by nudging your hand. She’ll let you know what she wants.”
“I should call you the cat whisperer.”
Soon, more felines surround us, all demanding attention. Art turns out to be much more popular than me. They rub their heads against his hands, elbows, legs, and one even jumps onto his back.
“They must smell Cinnamon and Peppermint on my clothing. They love using my suitcase as a bed sometimes.”
He’s so relaxed and at ease, smiling as he spends time giving each cat a proper pet. Animals are the best judges of character. It’s not lost on me that they see him as a special man. Just as I do. I want nothing more than to spend more time in his arms, kissing.
In the back of my mind, I’m terrified at the thought that when we get home, Art could be taken from me now that we’ve finally admitted we like one another. I’m more determined than ever to find a way for us to be together. Trying to find another guy to replace him was foolish. Nobody can measure up to him.
For now, however, we’ll make the most of all the time we can spend together. Before we’re back to reality in a few days’ time.
Twenty
The remainder of the morning passes in a blur. When we finish at the cat café, then have a wander around the city, and end up in the area known as Asakusa.
“When I was browsing some of the travel blogs, this area stood out to me. I thought you’d enjoy the architecture,” Art says.
Butterflies flutter in my stomach. He has planned this day around experiences thatImight enjoy. Considering this is a last-minute kind of date, he’s certainly put a lot of thought into it.
We start by exploring the famed Senso-ji temple and the shrines attached to it. It happens to be the oldest in Tokyo. I snap a hundred different photos from various angles and tug poor Art a million different directions.
“Oh, look at the gate . . .and those carvings . . .
“ . . . and the steps . . .
“ . . . I wonder what the pitch of the roof is and what materials they’ve used on it . . .
“... the paint on those statues appears brand-new. I wish I could ask the type of protective coating they’ve used...
“...look at the painting on the shutters of the shops! I have to capture that too!”
I turn, and yet again, I’ve let my feet carry me a little too far from Art. The crowds are dense, and it’s like being squeezed into a sardine can in some areas of the temple. There isn’t enough space for all the people here. We’re literally standing elbow to elbow. Although there isn’t any pushing or shoving. Everyone here is extremely polite about it.
“Alice, there you are.” Art breathes a sigh of relief. His forehead is creased. “I know you’re excited, but please don’t wander off without me.” He lowers his voice. “The chances of you being recognized and stopped for a photo are high. Your safety is my number-one priority.”
My cheeks burn. “I’m sorry.” As much as I want this to be arealdate, Art is really here to do his job.
“I know you are.” He rubs the back of his neck. “It’s brilliant to see you in your element. We just need to make sure we stay together.” His eyes skim the crowds.
“Um, I think I’m ready to move on and find a less popular area. Maybe we can go find some ice cream?” I fan myself. “The humidity has definitely picked up.”
My words have the intended effect. He relaxes. “The street food around here is supposed to be excellent. I’m sure there’s at least one shop that sells ice cream.”
We continue our stroll away from the temple, and the dense crowds.
