Tea and B

I dipped the tea bag once, twice, then twisted it around the spoon. Metallica screamed from my phone, and my cat, a twenty-three-pound tuxedo with a bobtail, mewed at me from the counter.

I flicked water at him from the sink. He blinked.

"C'mon. You aren't allowed up there," I said.

He blinked again.

I sipped my tea. Bland and steaming. The way I liked it.

I turned off YouTube Music, and silence filled the apartment for one blissful second.

Then the outside world seeped back in. Car horns. Pedestrian chatter. A peal of thunder.

I shivered and glanced at the light above the sink. It buzzed softly but didn't waver.

A knock.

I froze.

Oh, right.

DoorDash.

The Chinese I'd ordered sat on the mat outside my door. The mat read: NO SOLICITORS.

My heart didn't slow until the food was safely in my hands and the door locked firmly behind me.

I sighed and set the bag on the kitchen table, its bottom already soaked through. Nearby sat a stack of unpaid bills, an unlit candle, an empty pizza box, and a scatter of DoorDash receipts.

I pushed the clutter aside to make room.

B hopped onto the table.

"Didn't know you could still do that," I said.

The fat cat glanced from me to the bag and licked his lips.

Sesame chicken. Lo mein. Pot stickers. Crab rangoons.

My stomach growled.

A bead of drool formed on B's fuzzy lip.

Thunder cracked overhead. Rain rattled against the roof.

The lights flickered.

My fork froze halfway to my mouth. B seized the opportunity and reached for the chicken. When I intercepted him, he withdrew his paw with theatrical offense and began licking it, giving me a hooded stare.

After dinner, I stretched out on the couch, listening to the storm pound its chorus against the roof. Candles flickered around the apartment, each flame seeming almost alive. B curled onto my chest, a purring weighted blanket.

My baby bear.

I scratched beneath his chin.

A knock.

"Shi..."

I lurched upright. B tumbled gracelessly to the floor, then looked up at me with wounded eyes.

Knock. Knock.

I hurried through the apartment, switching off lights and blowing out candles until only the bathroom light remained, spilling a pale ribbon across the kitchen toward the front door.

I sank onto the couch, heart hammering, and listened.

Nothing.

B padded over and scratched at the door.

I resisted the absurd urge to scoop him up and use him as a furry shield.

Ten.

Nine.

Eight.

Nothing.

Seven.

Six.

Knock.

I jerked so hard I dropped the pillow clutched against my chest.

"Hey. I know you're in there."

The voice carried the ghost of familiarity.

I swallowed.

B kept scratching.

"We're worried about you."

I forced myself to answer.

"Please... just go away."

Silence.

Then:

"Let me in."

I waited.

Eventually, the footsteps faded.

Just to be certain, I crept to the door and wrapped my damp hand around the knob.

I opened it a crack.

The hallway was empty.

Then it wasn't.

B slipped between my legs and shot into the hallway as though something unseen chased him.

"No!"

I lunged after him.

My vision lurched.

Beat.

Beat.

Beat.

Each heartbeat pounded in my throat.

I stumbled backward into the apartment and slammed the door.

He would come back.

He had to.

I repeated it until I believed it enough to fall asleep.

---

The next morning, I made another cup of tea.

Bland and steaming.

Just like...

A tear slipped down my cheek.

B hadn't come back.

My baby bear was somewhere...

Out there.

And I couldn't follow.

I napped.

Slept badly.

I ordered a pizza.

I ate it without a single hopeful paw reaching toward my plate.

Something inside me hardened.

I was going to leave.

I was going to find my buddy.

I showered.

Dressed.

Pulled on my dusty Nikes, tying each lace with deliberate care.

The apartment door stood between me and my cat.

I took a breath.

Beat.

Beat.

Beat.

I unlocked the door.

Grabbed the handle.

Flung it open.

---

I woke lying in the hallway.

I didn't remember stepping through the doorway.

Something wet brushed my face.

Licking.

I pushed myself upright.

"B!"

No one.

The wetness came from my own tears.

The apartment door stood open behind me. My kitchen was visible from where I sat.

I was outside.

Outside.

My stomach heaved.

I vomited onto the beige carpet.

"Crap."

I stood on trembling legs.

I'd clean it later.

First I had to find my buddy.

The hallway stretched before me, impossibly long, yawning like a funhouse mirror.

I heard televisions.

A couple arguing.

A dog barking.

A baby crying.

I took one step.

Then another.

Then I was running.

Down the hallway.

Down the stairs.

Out through the complex doors.

Into the street.

---

I blacked out again.

When I came to, strangers surrounded me.

Someone held my shoulders. Another placed a bottle of water into my hands. A woman fanned my face with a grocery flyer.

Their mouths moved.

I caught only fragments.

"...call an ambulance..."

"...heat stroke..."

"...panic attack..."

"...she hit the sidewalk..."

My jeans clung cold against my legs from last night's rain. The pavement beneath me radiated heat through the damp fabric. My head floated somewhere several inches above my body.

"Cat," I whispered.

"My cat."

"Miss, are you hurt?"

"B!" I lurched to my feet before anyone could stop me.

The crowd opened around me.

I stumbled across the sidewalk, nearly colliding with a man carrying grocery bags. Apples spilled into the gutter.

"I'm sorry," I called, though I didn't stop.

"Buddy!"

Cars hissed through puddles.

The smell hit next. Hot asphalt. French fries. Gasoline. Rotting garbage baking in dumpsters.

Everything was too much.

The city pressed against me from every direction. Neon signs blinked. A bus sighed to a stop. Someone laughed. Somewhere else, glass shattered.

A black tuxedo cat darted beneath a parked pickup.

Hope burst through my ribs.

"B!"

I dropped to my knees beside the truck, reaching beneath it.

Only shadows.

When the cat emerged, he had a full tail.

He stared at me for a moment before trotting away.

I laughed.

Then cried.

I wandered into an alley.

Overflowing trash bags leaned against brick walls. Flies buzzed lazy circles over a puddle that smelled vaguely of beer. Something skittered beneath a pallet.

"Buddy?"

Only a rat.

It paused long enough to judge me before disappearing into the darkness.

I searched beneath parked cars, beneath stairwells, and behind hedges.

I crouched to peer beneath a porch where two glowing eyes watched me.

"Kitty?"

A raccoon hissed.

"I'm sorry."

A restaurant worker burst through the back door carrying a garbage bag.

"Hey!"

I jumped.

"You can't be back here."

"I'm looking for my cat."

He looked around the alley.

"I don't see one."

He waited.

I blinked.

He scowled.

I left.

The farther I walked, the stranger the world became.

Buildings leaned inward.

The sidewalks stretched.

Crosswalk signals took forever to change.

People flowed around me like water around a stone. No one really looked at me.

Maybe that was worse.

Or maybe it was better.

I wasn't sure anymore.

My phone rang.

Mom.

I hadn't answered one of her calls in years.

This time I pressed the green button.

"Mom... he's gone."

"Who, sweetheart?"

The words spilled out of me.

Everything.

The fear.

The apartment.

The knocking.

The hallway.

The cat.

She listened without interrupting.

Finally she said, "I'm sorry. Why don't you come visit?"

A pause.

"We'll have tea."

"I can't. I have to find my buddy."

I hung up.

The city had begun to dim.

Storefront lights blinked awake one by one, painting puddles red, blue, and yellow. A breeze stirred the smell of rain from the pavement, carrying fried food, cigarette smoke, and something sweet from a bakery closing for the evening.

"Buddy!"

My voice cracked.

A few people looked.

No one answered.

I kept walking.

My legs had become strangers beneath me. Each step felt borrowed. My shoes squelched softly where yesterday's rain had soaked through the fabric.

"Kitty."

Quieter now.

As if speaking too loudly might scare him away.

Every black trash bag became a crouching cat until I drew close enough to see my mistake.

The tears came again.

They blurred the sidewalks into watercolor.

"Mrrp."

I stopped breathing.

Nothing.

Just traffic.

I laughed bitterly and took another step.

"Mrrp."

Behind me.

I turned so quickly I nearly fell.

A pair of yellow eyes blinked from beneath a rain-bent hydrangea beside an apartment building.

"B?"

Silence.

Then his stubby tail twitched.

"Oh..."

My knees hit the wet grass.

"There you are, buddy."

He didn't come.

He simply watched me, ears tipped back, uncertain.

"I know."

My voice shook.

"I'm sorry, baby."

He sniffed the air.

I held out one hand.

A long moment passed.

Then another.

Finally, he stepped forward.

One paw.

Then the next.

Until his whiskers brushed my fingers.

I buried my face in the soft fur behind his ears.

He smelled like wet leaves and dust.

He immediately began washing one paw, as though disappearing for an entire day had been perfectly ordinary.

I laughed.

A real laugh this time.

"Jerk."

He looked up at me and meowed.

"C'mere, buddy."

I gathered all twenty-three pounds of him into my arms.

He complained loudly.

"I know. You're heavy."

He answered with an indignant chirrup before resting his chin against my shoulder.

The walk home felt longer.

The streets hadn't grown quieter. Cars still rushed past. People still brushed by without seeing me. Thunder muttered somewhere beyond the clouds.

My heart hammered against my ribs.

But there was another sound.

Purring.

A deep, rattling purr against my collarbone.

When my arms began to ache, I shifted his weight.

"I am not putting you down."

He answered by digging one paw into my shoulder.

"Ow."

We kept walking. Past the church. Past the Shaskeen Irish Pub. Past the bus stop, full of huddled strangers.

Eventually my apartment building rose before us.

The front door waited.

The hallway beyond stretched as long as I remembered.

For a moment, I simply stood there.

B bumped his head beneath my chin.

"Yeah," I whispered.

"We're almost home."

I climbed the stairs one at a time. Unlocked the apartment. Stepped inside.

The silence greeted us first.

Then the familiar smell of candle wax and takeout.

I shut the door.

Locked it.

Leaned against it until my breathing slowed.

B wriggled from my arms, trotted straight to his food bowl, then looked back at me with obvious disappointment.

"You disappear for a day, buddy, and you're hungry."

He meowed.

I laughed again.

The kettle went on. I dipped the tea bag once. Twice. Twisted it around the spoon.

My baby leapt onto the counter.

I looked at him.

He looked at me.

"C'mon," I said. "I suppose you've earned it."

He blinked.

Outside, someone knocked on a distant apartment door. My hands paused.

B hopped onto the couch. I picked up my tea. Took a sip.

Still bland. Still steaming.