“Oh, and saying he missed kitten school isn’t hurting his feelings?”
There is no doubt that Mr. Karen isn’t the brightest crayon in the box. It’s not just the tail burning. He has questionable spatial awareness and no sense of what can support his weight. The other day, he tried to jump onto a lampshade that wouldn’t hold him. He’s scorched his paw on a pan he tapped. Don’t ask me why we’re letting him sit on the countertop, except that if he’s not up here when we’re cooking, he paces about yowling like some danger is going to land on him from whatever is happening above his head. We learned in the first couple of days that he’d shut up if he could keep an eye on what we were doing, as if he didn’t like surprises. I have an alarming amount of sympathy for this mindset.
At first, I thought he might have a problem with his eyesight, but he had no trouble chasing the laser pen I ordered from Amazon. He likes sitting on high surfaces: the countertop in the kitchen, the tops of cupboards, and, in the bathroom, the sink, where he likes to watch me shave. We’ve alsoquickly realized he’ll do anything for a cat treat. They must put some powerful stuff in those things.
Sadie taps the wooden spoon on the edge of the pan. “What do you think?”
I take the spoon out of her hand, and my fingers brush hers, but when I look down at her, she doesn’t meet my eyes. I lift a spoonful of the mixture and pop it into my mouth.
“That’s excellent,” I say.
Her lips curl up into a half smile. “Can you keep an eye on it while I have a bath?”
“Sure thing,” I say, and she does look at me now, so I say quietly, “I’m so sorry about your books, Sadie.”
I’ve said it a few times since we got back. I have a lot of old books stored at my parents’ house. God knows how I’d feel if they disappeared. My heart aches for her. Her shoulders make an almost imperceptible movement, and she gazes down at Mr. Karen. “Thank you. I’m mad about it, but I’ll find replacements. I don’t know why I didn’t move my stuff sooner. I should have expected that Jake would do something, given the asshole he is. It’s nothing compared to what my mom’s dealing with, what you’re having to deal with, what with Jane and the business ...”
She trails off. Jane’s messages no longer bother me as much as they did.
“I think books are pretty important, especially childhood ones,” I say, and she grimaces. I tilt my head. “Go and have your bath.”
She nods, and Mr. Karen follows her as she disappears into the bathroom. I watch her go, throat tight.Thank you, Sadie, I say to myself quietly in my head.Thank you for everything you’re doing for me. I want to return the favor so badly. After a minute or two, the water starts running, and I gaze out over Des’s furniture as warmth percolates through me. I don’t think Sadie realizes how resilient she is. She’s a wolf in sheep’s clothing. And, by God, it’s amazing having her in my corner.
About five minutes later, I’m just getting comfortable on the couch with a glass of wine when there’s a loud shriek, and I shoot to my feet.
“Sadie?”
Silence. I trot to the bathroom door and stare at it, hand raised against the wood.
“Sadie?”
“Arrgghhh.”
“Are you okay?”
“Yes! Yes! I’m fine. Apart from the fact that Mr. Karen is in the bath with me.”
“Are you naked?” My voice sounds hollow, but obviously she’s fucking naked, James.
There’s a long pause.
“Sorry, of course you are. Um … Did he fall in? Can you get him out?”
“He didn’tfallin,” she says. “He got in with me.”
She’s naked in the bath with Mr. Karen? “Cover his kitty eyes.”
She snorts. “I don’t look that bad.”
I’m sure she doesn’t. My mind skitters around the idea of Sadie with no clothes on, but then she says, “He’s kind of …swimming?”
Swimming?Definitely a cat of very little brain.
“Hang on!” she adds.
There’s a lot of splashing and then Sadie opens the door wrapped in a towel, her shoulders completely bare, and I stare at her hair tied up in a scrunchie and her long, elegant neck and …
“Look!” she says, gesturing behind her.
