Magical Thinking

Deirdre snuggles comfortably into the pillows, relaxed and dreamy, as someone nuzzles her neck and whispers sweet nothings. She startles awake from a blissful, semi-trance when something nips her ear

“Ow! Enough of that,” she says, smiling as she turns, opening her arms. “No rough stuff.”

She encounters a pair of brilliant green eyes staring directly into hers. A gust of fishy breath wafts into her face.

“Ugh,” she groans. “Your breath stinks.”

Felix lands with a thud as she shoves him firmly off the bed. Glaring, he stalks off, twitching his tail and whiskers indignantly. Deirdre pushes tousled hair out of her face and sits up, blearily trying to get her bearings. She looks at the other side of the bed. It is empty. Damn it, he’s beaten her to the shower again. This is an ongoing race in the mornings. Anyone who thinks women spend too much time on their beauty regimes has not met Mike. It is a running joke between them. Body wash, lotion, fancy shampoo, conditioner line up like soldiers in a row on his side of the shower and woe betide Deirdre if she tries any of those products without permission. However, today something is wrong. Usually, she must hide her head under the pillow to drown out the sound of running water and off-key singing if she tries to get a few more moments of sleep. There is only silence this morning. Glancing again at the bed, she frowns as she notices that the covers on Mike's side are pristine and smooth. Where is he? Work. That’s it. He has a work trip she forgot about. She gropes for her phone and scrolls. No texts or emails. Wait. The ringtone is turned off. That’s right. She always turns it off before bed. She sleeps lightly and usually wakes up if the phone vibrates. That must be why she slept through his call last night. She frantically scans her call log. No missed calls. No calls from Mike at all for several days.

Panicked, she jumps out of bed and frantically searches the house. The bathroom is dry and tidy. She hurries to the kitchen, ready to fuss if Mike has left the usual mess after one of his snack attacks. It is a pet peeve of hers to find crumbs all over the countertop and empty beer bottles next to the sink.

“Would it sprain your wrist to put the empties in the recycling bin and wipe the counter?” she grumbles. He usually disarms her by bowing and smiling as he complies or waltzing her round the kitchen. Before she knows it, they are laughing and snuggling on the couch to bicker amiably about what to watch on the television. They agree that she will sit through one action movie with lots of gore and explosions for him in exchange for every sappy rom-com he sits through with her. Snarky comments are forbidden on either side, though eye-rolling and muffled snorts of laughter are permitted.

She halts in dismay as she sees that the kitchen is immaculate, then smiles in relief. She knows what must have happened. He left early, very early without saying anything, slipping out quietly so as not to wake her. He’s never been able to sneak out without disturbing her before, being notoriously clumsy and prone to stumbling into things, but there’s a first time for everything. Felix is meowing plaintively, almost tripping her as he weaves underfoot. Mike usually feeds Felix before he leaves in the morning, but then Felix is a chancer and always acts as if he hasn’t been fed for a week. Shaking her head, she reaches for a can of cat food and opens it. Felix purrs in ecstasy.

“Don’t tell your dad that I fed you again,” Deirdre says as she spoons the smelly mess into his bowl. “You know he has you on a strict diet. You’re getting a bit pudgy round the middle there, mate.”

Felix ignores her as she pets him and continues eating. Deirdre wrinkles her nose in distaste as she caps the can and puts it in the refrigerator. Straightening up, she glances out of the kitchen window, puzzled. Mike’s car is in the driveway. So, he didn’t leave early. Did he sleep on the couch last night?

She hurries to the living room. Once or twice he’s fallen asleep on the couch after staying up late to watch the game and has slept there in order not to wake her when he comes to bed. Deirdre truly does not know what she has done to deserve such a special guy. Her friends envy her as they share their stories of dating disasters.

Nothing is out of place here. There’s not even a ring on the glass coffee table. That is not typical for Mike, considerate as he tries to be. Suddenly her phone rings. Gasping in relief, Dierdre rushes to the kitchen and grabs it.

“Mike? Is that you? Where are you?”

She grimaces at the response, then claps her hand over her mouth, stifling a sob.

“Todd? Hi. I’m sorry. I did it again. Force of habit. It’s okay. Sometimes I think I'm losing my mind. Thanks for checking on me. Yes, I’d love it if you and Mary came over later. You guys were his best friends. We can share memories. Bye.”

Clutching the phone to her heart, she subsides onto a chair, eyes welling. Felix, eyeing her anxiously, leaps onto her lap. Deirdre jumps in surprise. He never does this. Communication with his humans is usually strictly limited to his needs and wants. Dierdre winces as he kneads her leg with sharp claws and turns his emerald eyes on her.

“No more magical thinking. I guess it’s you and me against the world now, bud,” she says, rubbing his ears gently. “You miss him too, don’t you?”

Felix meows softly and leans into her. Deirdre feels his purr vibrating against her. Gently holding his warm, furry body, she lets the tears fall.