Page 42 of Fruit
“He loves you a lot, huh?” I tell Nina quietly. She just breathes in response.
“We can take her home,” Sebastián says when he returns eventually with the vet. I cradle Nina in my arms instead of putting her in the carrier. Nina meows helplessly, and Sebastián’s expression crumples for a moment before smoothing out again.
We thank the vet and step out into the night air. I don’t comment on the haphazard way he’s parked as we get into his car.
He drives us in silence, and it’s only when we’re almost at his apartment that he says, “Oh, damn, I should have dropped you off first.”
“It’s fine. I can come up for a sec. I’ll call an Uber. I mean, it’s late, so if you want me to go straight to—”
“No, it’s fine. You can come up.”
“Okay.”
We’re quiet as we reach his. The night seems to be holding itself still around us as we get out of the car, the jingle of his keys the only perceptible sound. We walk up the stairs and into his empty apartment. He’s left his lights on, no doubt in his rush when leaving to the vet, and I take Nina to her bed, placing her there gently.
“There. She’ll sleep it off and be good as new in the morning,” I assure. Sebastián nods, looking down at her before glancing at me.
“Want something to drink?”
“Sure. Whatchu got?”
“Whiskey?”
I snort. “Of course you do.”
“I’m not even going to ask you why that’s funny,” he says, moving to the kitchen and taking two low glasses out.
“’Cause it’s a cliché.”
“A cliché for what?”
“Manly man living on his own. Brooding bachelor, saving the world one cat at a time.”
“You forgot the damsel-in-distress without an umbrella.”
“Don’t you dare.”
Sebastián laughs, and I smile, glad to see him relax a little.
We move to the couch, and Sebastián sighs as he sits down, as if he’s been carrying a weight around he’s only just unloading.
“She gave you a bit of a scare, huh?” I ask.
“Yeah. When she started panting like that…I kind of freaked.”
“Well, she’s fine now. And if she’s allergic to something, it would have happened eventually. To me, probably, knowing the mess that is my life.”
“How on earth is your life a mess?”
“Well, okay. Maybe it’s not technically a mess, but it sure feels like that sometimes.”
Sebastián snorts and lifts his glass as if cheering. “That’s your twenties for you. And we all feel like a mess sometimes.”
“How old are you?”
“Thirty-two.”
“And you’re already running your own non-profit. Yeah, your life is hella messy.”
