Page 3 of Cat's Outta the Bag

I wanted to write a quick note and express my deepest apologies… again. Slinky is the devil sometimes, and tonight you were her chosen victim. Thank you for being such a good sport about it earlier, but I want to reiterate that if you end up needing medical attention, please send any related bills to me (I’m in apartment 505). I hope the rest of your night was enjoyable and not filled with a homicidal psycho jungle cat hellbent on destruction.

Yours Sincerely,

Dr. Alexis Masters

P.S. I have absolutely no idea why I just wrote my name like that. I was not trying to flex, I swear. It was automatic, and written in pen, so not erasable… this post-script is awkward, why am I still writing?

P.P.S. I want to also add, since this note is already embarrassing, that while I know who you are, I will not be broadcasting that Jason Adams is living in my building. Everyone deserves privacy… hopefully this didn’t make things even more awkward… I’m going to stop writing now.

I can’t help but laugh. This was exactly what I needed.

Lately, it’s felt like things are falling apart. First, with the breakup between Vanessa and I. And now with my inability to pick my next project. I’m in danger of stalling out, which could kill my career. I shouldn’t be letting my focus drift, but I’m not sure I could stop myself if I tried.

Alexis is the epitome of adorkable, and her cat is the perfect kind of feline crazy. I honestly had no idea what to do when Slinky first entered the elevator with me. When I looked to see where she came from, all I saw was Alexis' horrified look. Then the doors shut, and Slinky was asking to be picked up. It was one of those times when a pet knew something we didn't because when I say that I have never been so attracted to someone in my life, I am not exaggerating.

Something in Alexis called to my soul, which is why I was basically speechless the entire time.

So now the question is, how do I get to know her without making her feel like I’m taking pity on her after the admittedly embarrassing cat-gate episode?

I’m in my bed staring at my ceiling when a light bulb goes off. I quickly text my sister for her help and fall asleep smiling.

It takes a couple of days to find what I am looking for, but I can barely contain my excitement when I do. The store clerk nicely packages the item up for me while I write a note for Alexis. When I'm back in our building, I set the gift outside her door, knock, and sprint back to my apartment. I just know that if I'm standing there when she finds the present, she'll get self-conscious.

Now I wait.

God, I hope she uses the phone number I gave her.

I can’t remember the last time I was this nervous about a woman.

The wait is going to kill me.

Chapter 3

Alexis

It’s been a long day.

Hell, it's been a long week. This is my fourth and final year of residency in emergency medicine, and I can honestly say this week was the worst in my career. After Slinky's attempt to ruin my life, within the first two hours of my next shift, there was a ten-car pile-up, with my E.R. being the closest level-one trauma center. We lost four patients that day, performed two limb amputations, and gave thousands of stitches. I've seen death plenty of times, both traumatic and peaceful, but this was on another level. I ended up needing an emergency session with my therapist just to cope.

And it just got worse from there. I spent two nights in the on-call rooms rather than sleep at home, we were so busy. It got to the point where half the staff was convinced we'd been cursed or that a planet was in retrograde, making our lives a living hell. The reality is this is what emergency medicine is; some days or weeks are just shit.

But what matters is how many people we heal because that far outweighs those we lose.

I’m still wrapped in my thoughts of work when I step out of the elevator and stop dead in my tracks. There is a box outside my door.

With a bow.

What the hell?

If Dateline and true crime podcasts have taught me anything, it’s that you can’t trust random packages you weren’t expecting.

I slowly inch my way to the box, probably a bit irrationally afraid that the vibrations of my feet will set off the bomb that is most definitely inside. Once I’m actually at my door, I can see there is a note tucked under the ribbon.

As slowly as humanly possible, in case it's attached to a trip wire, I slip out the card. I'm only a little embarrassed that I squeaked in fear once it was free. I have a moment of panic that the card could be filled with anthrax, but then I remind myself that it wouldn't be attached to a box if that were the case. I think.

Taking a deep breath, possibly my last, I open the envelope and take out the card.

Is this in Latin?

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