Page 67 of Kitten

I wished I could return to the bright and lonely halls of my childhood and tell the girl inside them not to worry. Somebody eventually would forgive her for leaving. Life would come for her, love would hunt her down, and even though the future would be unfamiliar it would not be unkind. What was it about the memory of childhood that made it seem gentler, more bearable, somehow, when the truth was that it was often withholding and oppressive, a house of locked doors? Still, leaving it behind was a loss, one endured by everybody. I thought of little James inIsabelle’s empty mansion, remembering again how to breathe. Finding a lost cat on the beach and nursing her to life. Fantasy of a life without illness, errorless and absolute. Reality of the one you had, the only one you had, the one you would continue to have until you died.

22

A few days after I moved out of his apartment, James and I went on a break. I had his last messages memorized by heart:

I think we need some time apart, and not just as it relates to housing

I still can’t think of you without thinking of Silver

Blame isn’t the right word. But I do feel something, it’s hard

This doesn’t mean I don’t still love you. Can you understand?

I did understand. Silver was James’s childhood wish, and I took her away. Or maybe Silver’s death had tugged on the ribbon wrapping his whole life together, unraveling the idea that everything was right where it should be. Now he wasleft with panic attacks and a big stuffed shark. I wondered what he did with BLÅHAJ, whether he stowed him in the closet or cuddled him under the sheets. Both ideas made me itchy with sadness.

October drew to a close. I almost got the job at the arts and culture center. Instead of discouraging me, the rejection was surprisingly invigorating. “Apparently I was a ‘really strong candidate,’ ” I said, reading from my phone while Lou ate corn from a can. “They wished me the best of luck finding another role.”

Lou’s apartment had become my not-so-temporary home. I only meant to crash for a week while I hunted for more job and apartment leads, but one week turned into two, then three, without luck on either front. Becca broke up with Nicolo and moved out, so I even got my own drawer in the bathroom. Between the drawer, Lou’s bookshelf, and the corner under her desk, I had enough space to comfortably store all my things, which I moved in from my old place in just three hours. But I still wasn’t paying rent, and though Lou never said anything, I could tell Nicolo was getting irritated.

Nicolo couldn’t seem to make up his mind about me. At first he pretended like we’d never met, which I could understand—though sometimes, when Lou wasn’t around, we managed to hold surprisingly long and natural conversations. Once, while he was at work, I noticed he’d accidentally left his door open. I couldn’t resist peeking and was amused to glimpse the furry foot of a teddy bear atop his duvet.

Now it was Halloween. Sitting on Lou’s bed, I nursed alukewarm vodka Coke while Lou dripped fake blood down her chin. She was leaning so close to her body-length mirror that I was sure she’d stain it. Without knocking, Nicolo barged into the room, dressed like Freddie Mercury. “I am going soon, but I just wanted to say tomorrow is November.”

I froze. Lou looked unfazed. “And?”

“Andrent is due.” Nicolo pointed at me. “You’re still here.”

I began to apologize, but Lou cut me off. “Can’tyoujust move out already?”

“Yes, you dream of that, don’t you?”

“I’m interviewing with another place tomorrow,” I said.

“What, like, for a job?” Lou asked.

“A room. With these four women, I think most of them work in government—”

“Stop talking, that’s so depressing. Nicolo, have pity.”

“I pity only myself in this situation.”

Lou marched to the door and closed it on him, singing out, “Goodbye, goodbye.” The last thing I heard before the door shut: “If you’re still here tomorrow, you owe me money!”

We took the subway eight stops to Lou’s colleague’s Halloween party. On the way, I tried to muster up the courage to apologize about the living situation, but she’d seemed unbothered back at the apartment. Also, she looked even more intimidating than usual with all that blood. I kept promising myself I would bring it up at the next station, but then we arrived.

It was inordinately warm in the apartment, and my armsitched under the white mesh top we thrifted for my costume. Lou was a vampire. I was garlic. Lou introduced me as the first friend she made at college, and everybody made a big deal over our outfits. There was a cat, there was a nun, and there was Cher, but otherwise not very many people were dressed up. I enjoyed explaining the details of our costumes to people, but twenty minutes in, Lou began to laugh with a girlishness that indicated she was embarrassed and yanked me to the kitchen.

“They suck, right?” She ladled a cup of black liquid from a sweating bowl on the counter.

“I think they’re okay.”

“You can’t tell when people are making fun of you. It’s like your superpower.”

“I can,” I said. “And some people are. But not everybody.”

Lou squinted at the shiny veneer of the kitchen cabinets. I waved. “There’s a mirror in the bathroom, you know,” I said.

“I’m sorry. You’re right. It’s like, you think you don’t care what other people think, but then you go to some random party you won’t remember in a month, and you realize it’s not true.”