THE BRO-MAGNET (24 page)

“When you put it like that, it sounds like an eminently sensible idea.”

“You’re still not laughing at me? Why are you not laughing at me about this?”

“Who am I to judge? I’m holding a bunch of throw pillows I neither want nor need and yet will buy anyway in the hopes of creating an impressive enough total package to wow one woman.”

“Yeah, I’ve kind of been meaning to talk to you about that,” Sam says as she gathers her own set of three throw pillows.

We head toward the registers at the front of the store.

“It’s just this whole thing,” Sam says, “all of it. Changing your name to John, getting a new wardrobe, reading books on relationships and dating, buying throw pillows – isn’t it a bit much? It’s like you’re erasing the real you and replacing it with someone entirely different all to impress one person. What happens if it doesn’t work out? Do you get rid of the throw pillows and put the hula girl chandelier back up? Or what if it does work out – do you go on being someone who’s not really you for the rest of your life?”

Sam’s making too much of this.

“You’re making too much of this,” I say. “It’s just surface stuff. It doesn’t change who I am at core. It’s like slapping a fresh coat of paint on something. Don’t get me wrong. You know how much I love paint. But paint doesn’t alter the foundation of a structure. I’m still me under it all. And anyway, it’s not like the old me was doing so well. And anyway, part two, you’re buying the throw pillows too.”

Score! Sam doesn’t have a comeback for that last item. A momentarily comeback-less Sam – if I was smart I’d be worried about this state of affairs.

We get to the registers and wait in line holding our pillows. We wait and wait until eventually we’re up next. As I’m putting my pillows on the checkout counter and the young guy behind the register starts scanning my items, Sam turns to me. 

“Oh, and before you even bother asking? I know I kissed you and everything but I will
not
have sex with you just so you can test out if you’re doing it right in case you get a chance with Helen.”

In every person’s life there’s at least one moment where they’re having a personal conversation and it’s just fine because there’s plenty of background noise to camouflage their words, but then the noise disappears just as the most awkward thing gets said.

I turn to the lady behind us in line who’s looking at me like I’m some kind of freak then back to the young guy behind the register who’s looking at me like I’m some kind of god, and I realize this is my moment.

“Gee, thanks, Sam. Do you think maybe you could have saved that little pronouncement for when we were alone?”

Sam shrugs. “I had to get it out of the way.”

“Throw pillows?” the young guy behind the register asks me earnestly. “I used to think they were just girly. But do you think maybe I should get a few? Maybe I could get more random chicks to make out with me that way, you know, even if they won’t have sex with me as a test-run for someone else?”

“Go for it,” I advise. “Knock yourself out.”

Sam rolls her eyes. “So,” she says, “what’s next on The List?”

“I don’t know.” I pull the crumpled sheet out of my pocket, run my eyes to the bottom of the page. “You want to help me find a cat?”

* * *

Who knew
The Penny-Saver
was such a useful publication? It helped me find a place to take Helen on our date to the circus, which led us to the carnival, which led us to the single best kiss of my life atop the Ferris wheel, and now it’s helping me find a cat.

“Which one should we check out first?” I ask Sam, looking over the listings.

“
First
? What do you think, we’re going to drive all over Danbury like we’re house-hunting or something, interviewing various feline applicants?”

“I’ll take that as a ‘we’re just going to one place and take whatever they have’?”

“Precisely. Here’s one.
Free, six adorable kittens in need of good home
.”

“But I don’t need six. I only need one.”

“What are you, stupid? We look at the six and pick out the one you like best. How hard can it be?”

“But it says ‘good home,’ not ‘homes.’ Clearly whoever placed the ad is looking to have all the kittens adopted at once.”

“Oh, for Christ sake, Johnny, just get in the truck and drive.”

* * *

In fact, it turns out to be very hard. Or maybe ‘hard’ isn’t the right way to put it. Maybe ‘not what the ad led me to expect.’ I phoned ahead from the truck so they’d know we were coming, but when we arrive a little girl answers the door. She’s wearing overalls with a light blue T-shirt underneath, her dirty blond hair in two pigtails on either side of her head. She’s maybe six, eight, ten. Who really knows with little kids? It’s not like they come with a badge or something.

“Wait here,” she says grimly as we stand on the stoop, then she shuts the door in our faces.

“You ever think about having kids?” I ask Sam.

“Not as a rule.”

“Me neither, but, I don’t know. They’re kind of cool, like little people or something.”

A minute later the little girl comes back with a basket and she steps outside, shutting the door behind her. Inside the basket, two kittens are curled up asleep. One is all black and nicely masculine looking. The other is a powder puff of gray and white.

When you think about it, it’s not much of a selection.

“Can we see the other four?” I ask.

“No,” the little girl says.

“How come? The ad said you had six.” Is she hiding them from us?

“The others are gone. You have to choose from these.”

“Is there an adult we can talk to about this? Perhaps your mom or your dad?”

“No. I’m in charge of the cats. You have to choose from these.”

She waves the basket closer to us, causing Sam to take a step back.

“They look so…cat-like,” Sam says.

“Don’t you like cats?” I say. “Alice says all women love cats.”

“I like them in theory,” Sam says.

“You can’t have either of them,” the little girl says, pulling the basket back. “I can’t possibly let the kittens go to someone who won’t love them properly.”

“Oh no!” I say, feeling a weird sense of panic. Suddenly I
need
to have one of these kittens. I point to Sam with my thumb. “She doesn’t live with me. She’s just my friend, along for the ride. The kitten would be living with me.” I make a decision to lay it on thick, forcing a super-bright smile. “I
love
kittens.”

“What do you love about them?”

Geez, I wasn’t expecting to be challenged like that.

“Well…” You know, when you’ve never owned a cat before, this stuff isn’t so easy to come up with. “They’re mysterious and, um, soft, and if you’ve got cold feet they’ll sit on them for you. Stuff like that.”

The little girl narrows her eyes at me. “Do you have references?”

“References?” What the –

“References. You know, papers, written recommendations…”

“No, he doesn’t have anything like that,” Sam says with no small degree of exasperation. “Who brings stuff like that to get a free kitten?”

The little girl casts an evil eye upon Sam, the cat hater.

“People who want pets should be properly prepared,” she informs us. “And it shouldn’t matter if it’s free.”

“Fine,” Sam says. “I’m his letter of recommendation. I can vouch for him completely. He’s gainfully employed, owns his own business in fact, and is more than capable of paying to support a kitten.”

“But will he love it?” the little girl asks.

“Yes,” Sam vows on my behalf. “He will love it.”

“I guess that’s OK then,” the little girl says grudgingly. “Now go to the pet store and buy everything you need, then you can come back and pick out your kitten.”

“Everything I need?”

“Yes. You know: cat food, cat toys, a scratching post, a litter box, a water dish and a food dish your new pet can be proud of. You didn’t buy any of that stuff in advance, did you?”

“Well, no.”

“I didn’t think so,” she says like she knew the answer to her question all along. She sighs a sad, weary sigh. “No one ever does.” She heads back to the house, shaking her head at a world where people think they can just go get whatever they want without doing the proper preparation first.

* * *

I always thought that if and when I ever did make the commitment to get a pet, it’d be a dog, preferably a big one. And now here I am, about to get a cat, something I never in a million years pictured myself doing. I think it must be what it’s like for people having kids. There you are, expecting a boy, and suddenly a girl pops out in the delivery room. It’s not so much that it’s a bad thing as that it’s drastically different than what you were expecting, how you thought your life was going to turn out.

Now I picture that black cat and I’m thinking maybe this won’t be so bad. It’s not a dog, but I could live with that cat.

Despite that back at the little girl’s house Sam revealed a previously unglimpsed aversion to cats, she proves very helpful at the pet store. I remember the basic stuff the little girl said to get – the food, the litter box, the special dishes for the food and water – but it’s Sam who remembers about the scratching post and the cat toys, piling up a wide selection of the latter on the counter. Sam even thinks to get a collar with a nametag for in case the kitten gets lost.

“Good call,” I say. “The little girl didn’t say anything about that stuff but if we went back there without it, no doubt she’d send us to the pet store again.”

I’m getting ready to pay when I see something behind the counter that grabs my attention.

“Can I get one of those too, please?” I ask the guy behind the counter.

“Which one you want?”

“Doesn’t matter, just so long as it’s sturdy.”

The guy brings down the item and places it on the counter next to the rest of my stuff. “So you’re getting a cat
and
a dog?” he says.

“No, just the cat.”

“Then what do you want a leash for?”

“The cat. So I can take it for walks.”

“People don’t usually – ”

“Don’t even bother,” Sam cuts him off. “He’s probably got this whole thing pictured in his head: him walking down the street, his cool new sleek black cat on the leash strutting by his side, maybe the two of them popping into the neighborhood bar for an ice cold beer for him and a saucer of milk for his furry little friend.”

Really? Am I that transparent?

The guy breaks out in a wide smile. “Man, that’s the coolest thing I’ve ever heard. I never thought to do that with a cat before. Maybe I should get one.”

“The Home Goods guy’s going to get throw pillows because of you,” Sam says, “now this guy’s going to get a cat so he can take it to the bar because of you. You’re like the Pied Piper of weirdness. Just what is it with you and guys?”

“I don’t know. Are you ready to go back and see the Cat Cop?”

* * *

Back at the little girl’s house, she goes through our items one by one as we stand on her lawn.

“Cat food, cat toys…” She looks at me. “I forgot to tell you to get a collar and nametag.” Her look turns triumphant now. “I’m sure you didn’t think – ”

“Oh, yes we did.” It’s Sam’s turn to look triumphant as she produces the items from the bag.

The girl, unruffled by being so flagrantly wrong about us, sticks her hand back in the bag. “What’s this?” she asks, waving the leash at me like a narc who’s just found a baggie in my glove compartment.

“It’s for my neighbor,” I lie quickly. I’m not sure why my immediate instinct is to lie. I just know somehow in my heart that if she knows the leash is for the cat she’ll never let me take him.

“Your neighbor needs a leash?”

“For his dog. He asked me to get a leash for his dog. His broke.”

“When did he ask?”

“Well, let’s see, he knew we were coming here to look at kittens so he must have figured that if we saw one we liked we’d need to go to the pet store and get stuff, so, yeah, that’s when he asked.”

Geez, for someone who prides himself on his ability to think up loopholes for criminals on TV, I don’t do so good when it’s my own neck on the line.

The little girl studies me for a long moment, no doubt trying to find which part of my story to pounce on first, but there are so many possibilities for that, after a minute she appears to just give up.

“Fine,” she says. “I’ll go get your cat.”

A minute later she’s back with the gray and white puffball. She holds it out to me. I swear the thing must still be sleeping, the way it just hangs there in her hands.

“I’m sorry,” I say as tactfully as possible, “but I thought I’d get the black cat.”

“You didn’t say anything about that before.”

“I know, but – ”

“You can’t have the black cat.”

“Are you sure there’s not some adult I can – ”

“No.”

“Well, did you give the black cat away to someone else in the hour since we were here last?” Two can play at
this
interrogation game.

“That’s none of your business. Do you want a cat or don’t you? If you want a cat, if you want one of
my
cats, you have to take this one.”

Oh, Christ. Do I want a kitten this badly? That thing is such a
girly
cat.

“You’ve already bought all the stuff,” Sam says, as though reading my thoughts. “Might as well. It’s not like I’m going to go through this with you again at any other houses.”

“Fine,” I tell the little girl. “I’ll take it.”

“Excellent selection,” she says, placing the cat in my arms. “Oh, and one other thing.”

“I don’t keep guns in the house. The kitten will be safe.”

“What?” She’s puzzled, shakes it off. “No, the kitten’s name. I forgot to tell you its name. It’s Fluffy.”

Fluffy
?

“OK, um, that’s good,” I say. “But I was thinking I’d rename it to something” –
anything
– “else.”

“You can’t. If you won’t agree to call it Fluffy, you’ll have to give it back. How would you like it if you had one name for a while and then someone else just randomly changed it on you?”

“Yeah,” Sam says, “how would you like it?”