Just Couldn't Help Myself

“That cat is a menace.” Lonnie told me the next day over lunch. We were sitting on the couch, eating peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and watching Battlestar Galactica. I looked away from the T.V. to give the cat my attention, and watched it delicately like cherry preserves from it’s paw. “Cupcake? What a bitch.”

I took a drink of milk and smiled. “Do you speak cat?” I asked, and earned a baleful look from the gray feline. “Seriously.”

“Cats don’t have a language, Johnny.” it informed me haughtily. “Bees do, and birds, but-”

“Do you speak bee?”

“Do I look like a bee?” it snapped. “And no, I don’t speak bird either, although they actually have over four hundred different-”

“Do you hunt birds?” I asked. “Mice, maybe?”

Lonnie’s tail swished angrily. “I most certainly do not hunt birds, or mice, or any other creature, thank you. I’m not a cat, and it’s about time you realized this.”

“You look like a cat.” I pointed out. “And you like other cat things.” to emphasize my point, I leaned over and scratched under it’s chin.

It let out a loud purr, which cut off abruptly as he swiped at me, claws unsheathed. I snatched my hand back just in time. “Don’t do that.”

“Someone’s sensitive today.” I remarked. “What’s got your tail in a knot?”

“That fucking cat, that’s what!” Lonnie hissed. “She’s hairless, Johnny. Hairless. It’s disgusting. She’s wrinkly and she smells weird and she followed me around all morning. That new neighbor of yours lotions her.”

I choked on my sandwich. “What?” I croaked, coughing.

“Hairless cats need to be lotioned.” Lonnie explained. “She smelled like beeswax and flowers. No cat should smell like-”

There was a quick, rapid knocking on the door, which made me jump and Lonnie run, his tail puffed up. It darted under the couch and glared out at me as I got up. “Hush.” I told it.

“I wish I could give you the middle finger.” it whispered as I walked past.

I opened the door to see Murphy, flown blown dimpled smile, holding a tinfoil covered plate. “Hi neighbor!” he chimed. He thrust the plate at me. “I hope you like cupcakes.”

I took the plate without really thinking. “Cupcakes?” What the hell was with him and that word.

He nodded. “Red velvet.” he told me. “I know it’s usually the other way around, this welcoming thing, but I figured what the hell.”

“Right.” I said awkwardly, and after a pause I stepped back. “You want to come in?”

He looked startled, but seemed to recover quickly. “Well, okay.” he said, somehow smiling even wider, and glided in past me. He shut the door with my foot and followed him into the living room. He looked around, his eyebrows arching. “I like your place.” he said, nodding his approval.

“Thanks.” I said, setting the plate down on the coffee table. Lonnie came out from under the couch and jumped up beside the plate, trying to sniff under the foil. I peeled it back and set one aside for him.

“You’re going to let him eat that?” Murphy asked.

“Why not?” I asked. “Would you like some coffee or something? Beer? Water?”

“A beer sounds nice.” he said, and followed me into the kitchen. “So the landlady said you work at a bookstore.”

I paused halfway through bending over to get at the beer in the fridge. “She told you that?” I asked.

“Was it not true?” he asked, leaning against the counter by the sink.

“No it’s true, I just…” I frowned, grabbing him a beer and handing it over. “Emily’s not usually a gossiper.”

He chuckled, producing a Bic from his pocket and setting the beer down on the counter to open it. “Well, maybe I pried a little bit.” he admitted with a tiny shrug of his straight, slender shoulders.

“Why?” I asked, confused.

He popped the cap off of his beer and looked around, then tossed it into the garbage can by the stove. Then he turned fully to face. “Can’t blame a guy for being curious.” he said, and sipped his beer. Then he gave me an odd look; he was still grinning, but his eyes were serious and dark. “I mean, I wasn’t wrong was I? About you?”

“What do you mean, about me?” I was totally lost, but when he arched one eyebrow and made a seesawing gesture with his hand not holding his beer, I understood. “Oh, that.” I flushed. “I’m not gay.” I told him, and he looked both amused and a little surprised. “Not… well, not all the way.”

“So this is pretty precise then?” he asked, seesawing his hand again, and I startled myself by laughing. “Single?” he asked.

“Yes.” I said, and then bit my lip. “But, I’m not really… I mean I don’t think now’s a good-”

“Hey, hey.” he held up his hand in a ‘hold-on’ gesture. “I was just checking my intel, that’s all.” he took another drink of his beer while I stood there awkwardly. “So.” he said, setting his beer down on the counter. “Since I’m new to the city, I was hoping you’d maybe show me around some time.”

“Where are you from?” I asked.

“Boston, most recently.” he said. “And before you point out the lack of accent, I didn’t grow up there and I didn’t live there long.” he tilted his head and gave me another one of those odd, dark eyed looks. “What do you say?”

I considered it. “When?” I asked.

He shrugged. “Monday?”

I shook my head, flushing. “I can’t, I… uh, have an appointment. How about Tuesday?”

“Interview.” he told me, and thought. “Wednesday?”

“Double shift.” I replied, and he burst out laughing. “What about tomorrow?”

He considered. “Sunday. Yea, that would work. Noon, in the lobby.”

“Sure.” I agreed, and he flashed me another full blown smile. We made polite small talk for a little while longer, then he excused himself, told me that he hoped I liked the cupcakes, and left.

I went back out into the living room, but there was no sign of Lonnie, aside from the half eaten cupcake on the table. I cleaned up after insufferable little fuzz ball, then put the cupcakes on the counter in the kitchen and went into my room to lay down. Somewhere, I’d developed a headache.

I laid there for a while in the dark, my shades drawn and my door cracked just a little. I must’ve dozed off, because the creaking of the hinges on my bedroom woke me up. Feeling groggy, I sat up to find Lonnie glaring at me from the foot of the bed.

“You made a mess.” I told him, rubbing my eyes. My headache was gone, but my neck hurt. “Where’d you go?”

“You’re different.” the cat told me matter-of-factly. “You aren’t the Johnny I’ve known.”

“No kidding.” I muttered, and yawned.

“You were never gay.”

“I’m not gay.”

“You like men.” it shook its head at me. “Why are you different here? What changed? Everything always changes but you.”

“Sometimes change is good.” I pointed out.

“Not right now it isn’t.”

I glared at him. “Great.” I snapped. “A homophobic house cat.”

“I’m not homophobic.” the cat informed me. “You’ve never been gay before.”

“Stop calling me that.” I got up out of bed and stalked out of the room. Unfortunately, the cat followed right after me.

“Gay.” it said in a grossly singsong tone. “Queer, faggot, homo. Little touch of the lavender this time around, huh Johnny?”

I turned and swung my foot at the annoying little beast, and it darted away just in time, hissing. “Fuck you, kitty.” I grumbled. I’d never liked that word, although I could never really figure out why. It just… bothered me.

“So you’re fabulous but ashamed.” Lonnie snickered from the shadowy spot he’d crouched in. “Great. Like this needs to be harder on either of us.”

“Meaning what, exactly?” I asked, trying to keep my voice calm when all I really wanted to do was use it as a soccer ball.

“Well, now we run the risk of you sleeping with him, don’t we?” Lonnie said, and slowly approached me, ears flattened and tail swishing. “Why can’t you just be normal?”

“This, out of you?” I snorted and walked into the living room. I tossed myself onto the couch and covered my face with my hands. “Why me, God? What the fuck did I do to deserve this?”

“Well, you curse like a sailor.” Lonnie remarked, jumping up onto the coffee table. “And you do enjoy sodomy. Pretty sure that’s a sin, big boy. Besides, I thought you didn’t believe in God.”

“Quiet, pussycat.” I mumbled. “I’m communing with my creator.”

The cat snorted. “You should be more concerned with how we’re going to-”

“I said quiet.” I snapped.

“You need to start taking this seriously.” Lonnie hissed. “Stop with this whining, ‘I think I’ve gone crazy’ bullshit and realize the very real danger you’re in.”

“I don’t think-”

“Obviously.”

“-I know I’m crazy. You’re a talking cat.”

“For the last time-”

“Cat. Feline. Pussy.” I sat up and grinned at him. “Here, kitty kitty kitty.”

“Asshole.” the cat snapped, and jumped off the table.

“And I curse like a sailor?”

“Go to Hell, sodomite!” the cat yowled over its shoulder, and I threw one of the couch cushions at it, missing completely.

With a sigh, I laid back and glared up at the ceiling, and wondered what the hell I was going to do.