Page 51 of Resistance Training
He puts the litter box filled with cat food and supplies on the ground, cradles the kennel in his arms, and turns around to find my face wet with tears. He is genuinely perplexed at the sight of me. “What happened?”
“Nothing!” I hiccup, waving at his bookshelves. “That!”
“My books?”
“I ju—I jus—I can’t believe you read all those books without me! Don’t look at me. I’m hideous.” I wipe my face with both hands.
When my vision returns, I see that Brad is laughing. At me. For real.
I slap his arm. “Asshole.”
“I mean. I haven’t readallof them yet.”
“Shut up. It makes me sad. But I’m over it.”
“Clearly. There’s Kleenex in the guest bathroom if you need it.”
“Don’t let her out of the kennel yet. We’ll put some food in the kennel and then get her set up in her own room, okay? Probably the guest bathroom.” I check out the guest bathroom down the hall, and it is indeed the perfect size for a tiny kitten to live in while she adjusts to being in a home. And I also burst into tears again because it’s so clean and the soap and hand towels are neatly laid out and there’s a framed black-and-white photo of the dock by his family’s old house when they lived down the street from us on Mercer Island. As teenagers, we spent so many hours sailing and sometimes just reading on the deck oftheir boat while it was docked. For someone who doesn’t seem to want to remember that time of his life, I’m surprised to see this displayed in his home.
After pulling myself together and setting up the litter box, litter-disposal set, and a bowl of water in the bathroom, I join Brad in his kitchen. I manage to refrain from crying at the sight of the clean counters and the rows of labeled storage bins with various powders and smoothie ingredients. It looks a lot like Jeremy’s old kitchen in Seattle, aside from all of the journals and paperbacks lying around.
He’s adding filtered water to a small bowl of wet kitten food. “Does that look okay?” he asks without looking at me.
“Yeah.”
“Do you want to put it in the kennel for her?”
“Oh, no. I think you should do it.”
He frowns at me, picks up the bowl, and I follow him back into the living room. “Should we put the kennel in the bathroom first?”
“Yeah, let’s do that.” I pick up the kennel and take it to the guest bathroom, placing it on the floor, against the wall opposite the door. The kitten makes loud little mewing sounds. A little anxious, but not distressed.
I get down on my knees to talk to her. “Hey, girl. You’re going to be living in this little room for a while, okay? You’re very safe here. You can stay in this kennel as much as you want, but we’re going to leave this cage door open and you can just roam around and get to know the place. That big, nice man, Brad, is going to take care of you, but he’s going to stay on the other side of that door most of the time. Okay?”
I get up, and when I turn around, Brad has that look on his face, like he was staring at my butt. I hold his gaze for as long as he’ll let me, and then he shifts his body sideways in the doorway,allowing me to pass by him. “I’ll close the door behind you, and you can open the kennel and put the food in there.”
“You want me to stay in there with her?”
“I mean, you can come out once you’ve put the food in the kennel. Just don’t let her out.”
“Roger that.”
I close the door behind him and press my ear up to the door. I hear him clearing his throat. I hear her little mews. And then I hear the latch to the cage door open and he says, “Hey, girl,” and then there’s so much hissing.
I jump back from the door when it opens, and he exits the bathroom, closing the door behind himself so fast.
“Sounds like that went well.”
“Yup.” He catches his breath. “Now what?”
“Do you want me to go?” I ask.
“No.”
“Okay. Well, she needs to get used to the sound of your voice. So why don’t we just hang out by the door and talk?”
He crosses his arms in front of his chest. “About what?”
