“I bet you wouldn’t say that if Daddy were here.”
She looked over her shoulder at me, blinked, and continued out of the room, her little stub of a tail as high in the air as it would go.
“Well, that just means more for me,” I called after her. I finished my dinner in solitude, trying to think what to do to while away the time until Wills called.
Going out, to the movies or dancing—why, if Wills wasn’t with me?
The cable company we subscribed to offered hundreds of channels, and there was crap on all of them. I didn’t feel like watching a DVD, not even The Big Chill, or reading, or looking at porn online. Without Wills, what was the point?
How lame was this? He had only been gone a few hours.
I loaded the dishwasher and changed the litter in Miss Su’s litter pan. The apartment was already spotless, so there was no need to clean it.
I couldn’t call Tim. Saturday nights at his pub were some of the busiest times.
I couldn’t call Paul. He was working the three to eleven shift.
The ladies downstairs were entertaining, and if I showed up, one of their clients might think I was available.
It was tax season. I didn’t usually like to work on the weekend, but I might as well.
* * * *
A few hours later, and still no phone call from my lover. Well, that flight home to me before Christmas had taken eighteen hours. I had no clue where he was supposed to go, so he could still be in transit. Or there could be a problem with his hotel reservations and he could be hashing it out. Or he could have been hauled off to troubleshoot the problem as soon as he landed. Or…
I decided to call it a night. In the morning it would be one day closer to him coming home.
I slept on Wills’s side of the bed with his pillow in my arms.
It wasn’t until the next morning that I spotted the chain with the charm I’d given him on Valentine’s Day, lying on his night table. It was cool in my hand when I picked it up, the warmth of his body long gone from it.
There were probably a dozen reasons why he hadn’t taken it with him, the most likely one being in the rush of dressing, packing, and leaving he’d simply forgotten it. But…he’d never taken it off before, even showering with it on.
I worried my lower lip, then put it back on his night table and went to feed Miss Su.
* * * *
The next morning, while I was shaving, I saw it: a gray hair in the middle of the red at my temple. I couldn’t pull it out; if I did, it would spawn the population of a third world country in revenge.
I peered closer, and realized I had lines flaring out from the corners of my eyes.
Oh Jesus. It was happening. I was twenty-eight, my hair was turning gray, and my face was wrinkled—was getting old.
I chewed on my lip. I needed to get my hair trimmed. I’d ask my stylist about coloring my hair. As for the rest…
Maybe Wills wouldn’t notice?
I went back to shaving. I’d worry about it another day.
* * * *
Each time I tried to reach Wills, I got his voicemail, and it was the same for Vincent. By the middle of the week I’d grown beyond concerned. Sure, he was a guy, but stuff could happen to guys.
The phone rang, and I bolted for it. “Wills…”
“Mr. Bascopolis?”
I felt deflated. “Yes.”
“Good morning. This is Barbara from Dr. Keith’s office. I’m calling to remind you of your appointment to have Tiramisu spayed.”
“Oh, yeah…Thanks for the reminder.” I’d forgotten all about it. Wills and I had talked about it, and since I had no plans to show her and eventually breed her, we’d decided it was the best thing health-wise to have her spayed. He told me he’d take the day off, but now I’d have to do it alone.
“It’s at eight tomorrow morning. Please remember not to feed her after six tonight and to take up her water bowl before midnight.”
“No food or water. Got it.”
“Good. She’ll stay with us overnight so we can keep an eye on her.”
“Do you have to?” I’d be alone in the apartment, and right now I really didn’t want to be alone. Too many thoughts crowded my mind.
“It’s the doctor’s policy. We want to make sure there are no side effects from the anesthesia. We’ll see you in the morning. Come in a little early, all right?”
“Yes. Bye.” I swallowed.
I looked at my kitten. She was stalking her catnip mouse, her belly flat to the floor and her little tail whipping back and forth.
“Guess what, Miss Su? We’re going for a ride tomorrow!”
She abandoned her mouse and came to me, rubbing her head against my ankle. Wills and I had found a groomer who did an excellent job on her long coat, and she had come to associate “going for a ride” with paying a visit to the man.
Poor, unsuspecting little kitty. Was she going to hate me when she realized what I’d had done to her?