The Second Chance Year

José Luis looks to Zoe for guidance, but she just shrugs. “You heard the woman.”

He rounds the counter and follows Mrs. Kaminski as she slowly shuffles to the front door, leaning heavily on her cane. Once they’ve disappeared outside, I turn to Zoe.

“Where do you think they’re going?”

“No idea. That woman is eccentric.”

I hang out at the counter, chatting with Zoe about baking supplies and the bulk cost of flour. A couple of minutes later, a cool breeze blows into the café as the door swings open. Mrs. Kaminski lumbers back in with José Luis balancing a cardboard box in his hands. The box appears to be moving, and I swear I hear something thumping around in there.

Once Mrs. Kaminski is safely inside, José Luis closes the door and sets the box on a table. “I’m not sure what’s going on here,” he confides, backing away. The box is definitely moving. And thumping. And then it lets out a high-pitched yowl.

“What is in that box?” Zoe demands, approaching it slowly. At that moment, a tiny, furry little black arm pops out the top of the box where the two flaps are folded together. Zoe lets out a startled shriek and jumps backward.

“Oh, stop being so dramatic.” Mrs. Kaminski rolls her eyes. “It’s a cat. For Sadie the Cat Lady.”

“It’s a what? For who?” I ask, eyes wide.

“It’s a cat. I found it in the alley.” She pokes at the box with her cane. “They won’t let me keep a cat in my building, so I brought it for you.”

I stand there, dumbfounded. “I can’t take home a…” My voice trails off, because of course I can take home a cat. I told Zoe that my cat died and implied I was devastated. What would it look like if I refused this one?

But… I can’t actually have a cat. Can I? I shake my head. I have enough trouble taking care of myself. How am I going to take responsibility for another creature?

The box rustles again, and through the flaps in the lid, a little black head pops out. The cat looks around and then lets out a tiny, plaintive meow.

“Oh my God, that thing is so freaking cute.” José Luis presses his palms to his cheeks. “I’m dying.”

I have to admit the cat really is freaking cute. But I cannot take it home. I seize on the opportunity José Luis presented. “It seems like José Luis has really fallen in love. Maybe he should take the little guy.”

“Oh, I can’t have a pet.” He shakes his head sadly. “I live in campus housing. A girl down the hall won a fish at Coney Island, and she got in major trouble when the RA found out. I can’t imagine what they’d do if I got caught harboring an illegal mammal.”

The cat meows again, José Luis coos, and even Zoe gives a little “awwwww.” She turns to me. “You really can’t take him?”

Mrs. Kaminski huffs, looking extremely put out. “I thought you were a cat lady,” she accuses.

“I am! I mean, I love cats. Love them! But…” But what? How am I going to get out of this? I wring my hands. “But… I gave away all my cat supplies when little, uh, Zoe passed. It was too painful to keep them around. So.”

Mrs. Kaminski thumps her cane on the floor. We all jump, including the cat. “Young man.” She waves a finger at José Luis. “Carry this cat home for Sadie.” The finger swings to me. “You stop at the twenty-four-hour grocery for supplies on your way. They’ll have enough to tide you over until you can get to a pet store tomorrow.”

I look to Zoe, hoping maybe she’ll take my side. But she just shrugs. “Do you mind helping Sadie, José Luis?”

“Of course not.”

And just like that, I’m a brand-new cat mom.

José Luis deposits me, my cat supplies, and the cardboard box containing my new furry friend in the center of my studio apartment. “Text some photos, okay?” He scribbles his number on a Post-it on my desk, and then he’s gone.

I set up the litter box behind the toilet in the bathroom and then pour some dry cat food in a bowl. “Here, kitty.” I put the bowl down next to the box and flip open the lid. The cat’s head pops up, its little nose working to sniff out the food. In the next moment, it hops out of the box, scurries to the bowl, and basically inhales the food. About two seconds later, the food is gone, and the cat turns to me and meows. Demanding more, I suppose. I measure out another scoop and add a bowl of water next to it. Then I settle into the couch to watch, and this time, the cat eats at a slightly more reasonable pace. I feel bad for the little thing. It must have been starving. When the second bowl of food is gone, the cat licks its paw and then immediately turns its gaze on me.

“Hi,” I say. “How are you? What’s your name?” Not surprisingly, the cat doesn’t answer, but it does succeed in making me wonder if I’ve actually managed to turn into a cat lady.

The cat licks its paw again, and then walks in my direction. In one swift move, it jumps up on the couch, climbs onto me, and settles, Sphinx-like, on my chest. A moment later, the purr turns on. I look down into its little face. “You are pretty freaking cute, you know?” I hold my hand out, and it rubs its soft cheek against my fingers, purring louder.

In that moment, my shoulders finally release the tension they’ve been holding all night, and my back sinks into the couch cushions. I close my eyes, feeling the vibration in my chest. And, for the first time since Rob Thurmond put his hand on me, I feel like maybe I’m going to be okay.





Chapter 13


May


When I open my apartment door, the last person I expect to see standing there is Jacob.

Oh,” I say, startled. “Hi.”

“Hey.” He clears his throat. “Owen invited me for brunch. I hope that’s okay.”

My hand unconsciously flies to my hair, which, of course, I didn’t wash today. I silently curse my brother. Thanks for the warning, Owen. We have a standing monthly brunch date, and it would have been nice if he’d told me he’d invited a friend. But I can’t really be mad. Jacob has been tagging along for our entire lives, and Owen would never in a million years consider that I’d want advance notice. If my brother suspected that I’d go out of my way to look nice for Jacob, he’d probably think I’d been huffing nitrous oxide from the whipped cream canister.

“Yeah, of course. He’s not here yet.” I swing the door wider. “Do you want to come in?”

Jacob eases past me into the apartment. I turn around, and my spacious studio seems rather cramped with this tall, broad-shouldered man taking up the center of the room. My jacket is over by the window, and there’s no way to grab it without brushing past him. I try, though, and he steps aside, but in the wrong direction, so I crash right into him.

“Sorry,” he mutters, taking a step backward.

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