Another Thursday Off to a Fine Start
I was feeling glum and disgusted with myself, sitting in Rachel
Decker’s car on our way home from the Wednesday night
poker game. I’d been ahead most of the evening and then stupidly
misplayed my last hand; when we all gathered up our jackets
and scarves to go, I was about fifteen bucks in the hole. Rachel
hadn’t spoken much since we left Stan’s apartment, and I’d said
almost nothing. There was the merest suggestion of light over the hills
to the east, a thin, pale outline marking the contours of the ridge.
Rachel slowed the car as we approached the all-night supermarket
on Doyle and said, “You mind? I just have to get a couple things.”
Suddenly I had an urge to buy a box of saltines to munch on in the car
the rest of the way. “Sure,” I said. “Sure, why not?” Inside, Rachel
went off in one direction while I went in another, looking for
the saltine aisle. I rounded a corner and stopped. Blocking my path
was the largest cat I had ever seen outside of a zoo. It looked like
an ottoman upholstered in spiky orange fur, if the ottoman had
enormous, glittering Caribbean-blue eyes. Those eyes were something.
It was as if two round-cut sapphire pendants were jammed in
the cat’s skull. The cat didn’t move, I didn’t move, and we stared
at each other for a moment when a high, raspy voice behind me
said, “That’s Steffy.” I turned my head and saw one of the third-shift
stock boys smiling at me. He was tall, lanky, sallow, one eyebrow
cocked speculatively, wearing a name tag that read Hi, I’m. “Don’t
worry. She won’t hurt you,” the stock boy said. “Steffy?” I said.
“Yeah, Steffy. She’s just interested in reading your thoughts,” the
stock boy said. “Really,” I said. “Yes,” he said. I glanced back at Steffy,
whose eyes were still fixed on me. “She’ll probably fill me in on them
when I’m on my coffee break,” the stock boy said. “That’s nice,” I said.
I have always liked cats, but still. I went looking for Rachel, who was
going through the checkout with a few purchases, dishwashing liquid,
three boxes of wooden kitchen matches, a carton of soy milk, some
other stuff. Back in the car I told her about Steffy. “You never know
with cats,” Rachel said. It had continued to grow brighter. The hills
were beginning to take form, a jade-green blanket someone had
casually tossed onto the horizon. My cell phone hummed in my
pocket, and I looked at my watch. Five a.m. I didn’t recognize
the calling number. “Hello?” I said. “Hi,” a familiar voice said,
although I couldn’t place it. “What’s up?” I said. “Steffy told me
to tell you you forgot the saltines,” the caller said. I opened my mouth
but kept silent. Rachel was shooting me a look. “Oh,” the voice said.
“Another thing. Waiting on a jack to fill a straight when Danny
was showing one? With that face like he probably had a pair? You
really should have known better.” “Yeah. Well,” I said. I thought,
where the hell were you when I needed you? “Where is anybody?”
the voice said. Rachel drove on. The sun rose. Eventually I decided
we might get home.
In memoriam James Tate