Page 21 of Fruit
CHAPTER FIVE
“Jesus,” Sebastián says as he opens his door.
“You’ve put a curse on me,” I accuse, dripping onto his welcome mat. The summer storm caught me on my way to pick up the cat, soaking me in an instant.
I really needed to start checking the weather forecast.
“Have you heard of these amazing anti-rain charms called umbrellas?”
“Really? We’re doing this now?”
“Come in. I’ll get you a towel.”
I step into his apartment, trying not to track water too far into his place. I look around as I wait, taking in the comfortable space. A cluster of sofas around a TV, an adjoining kitchen with a separating breakfast nook. There’s not a lot of art, but there are a few photographs, mainly of people in or standing outside the youth centre. Most notably, it smells absolutely delicious, a little like Indian curry powder but not as strong.
“Here,” Sebastián says when he returns, handing me a towel.
“Thanks. And, sorry,” I say, remembering to be polite.
“It’s fine.”
I finish drying and fold the towel awkwardly. He takes it from me and looks at my arms, which have goosebumped from the slight chill of the rain.
“You cold?” Sebastián asks.
“Nah. Just a little.”
Sebastián nods and disappears again, presumably to put the towel with the dirty laundry. I step further into the apartment and grin when Dumpster Kitten peeks her head from the couch.
“Hey there.” I approach her, and she butts her head against my hand when I go to stroke her. “Do you remember me?” I ask softly. She meows, and my smile widens.
I hear footsteps approach me, and I turn my head to see Sebastián holding out a soft-looking, grey hoodie.
“Here,” he says. I pause for a moment, surprised, before taking it slowly.
“Oh. Thanks,” I say. He shrugs in response, and it makes me think of Joshua.
I put the hoodie on and return to the kitten, scratching her behind the ear.
“She looks so much better.” Dumpster Kitten has filled out, no longer looking emaciated or sickly, her grey hair fluffy and soft.
“The vet gave me a regimen to follow. She stays here half of the time now, but I used to take her to the youth centre to make sure she ate. She’s on normal food already.”
“What kind of food do you give her?” I ask, ignoring how adorable the fact that this dude took the cat to work is.
“A mix of dry and wet. And some tuna when she’s good.”
“Aw, I bet she’s always good.”
“She scratched up my chair,” Sebastián says and points to the clothed leg of one of the armchairs. It definitely looks worse for wear.
“I bet that was you, filing your rain-casting witch nails on the upholstery,” I tease, glancing at Sebastián. He snorts.
“Busted.”
“I knew it,” I whisper at Dumpster Kitten. We stay silent for a moment as I stroke the cat. Something in me has settled at seeing her so healthy and alive.
“I named her Nina,” Sebastián says. I wrinkle my nose, but it’s actually a pretty good name. Better than Dumpster Kitten, I have to admit.
