The Cat Was Never There

I stared at the note on the fridge for a long, long time. Dummy. That was how she used to call me. She said that title was only reserved for her boyfriend.

The bedroom's door swung open, and out came Blake in an oversized black hoodie. I recognized that hoodie. I waited in line for three hours just to get that limited edition hoodie during her last birthday. She later told me that she lost it.

I spent a lot of time looking for it, but all she said was, "It's just one hoodie. It's no big deal."

The sight of me drained all color from Blake's face, but he swiftly recovered and clapped my shoulder like he used to. "You should've called if you were coming, man. I just got out of the shower, and my place is a mess."

I moved away from his hand. "Where's the cat?"

He paused for a moment. "Pet hospital. I told you that the cat had a fever."

I looked at the absurdly clean living room. There was no cattery, no litter box, and not even a single strand of fur. Instead, there was only a pair of women's slippers on the porch and the perfume in the bathroom.

I also saw a shirt belonging to a woman drying on the balcony.

Blake looked in the direction of my gaze. When he saw what I was looking at, he quickly explained, "Queenie's shirt got soaked after she took the cat to the hospital, so she left it with me. She left her perfume, too."

The urgency in his tone softened as he continued, "I'm your buddy, man. You trust me, don't you?"

Just then, Queenie's voice came from the entrance. "You got more cold drinks again, Blake?"

The locked door clicked. Her cold voice traveled into the house before she did. "Do you want to kill your stomach and then yourself?"

The look on Blake's face shifted as he shot me a look. Sure enough, in came Queenie with a bag of groceries. She had bought beef, potato, pumpkin, and milk. Those were all Blake's favorites.

Blake quickly put on a sneer and infused his voice with his usual impatience. "I don't need your concern. You're annoying."

Queenie put the groceries on the ground and answered coldly, "You called me three times last night just for my concern, you know."

I was standing before the fridge, but I couldn't find an opening in their conversation. They had always been like this. The two of them loved to fight. Blake said she had a bad temper, while Queenie said Blake was very fussy.

Back then, I would smile and be the mediator. I thought they had toned down the fighting because of me and the stray cat.

Queenie finally saw me. "You came all the way here barely wearing anything?" She took her jacket off and was going to drape it over me.

The edges of Blake's eyes went red before the jacket even touched me. Queenie's hand froze, and she said coldly, "I thought I told you I'd come over after I dealt with the cat. Why'd you come here?"

I looked at the jacket and smiled blandly. "Where's the cat?"

Queenie frowned. "I told you where it is."

I handed her the phone. The property management team just came back with a clear-cut response. "Mr. Chaucer has not registered for any pet. He's allergic to cats. In fact, he complained about a stray cat in the staircase just last month."

Silence fell upon the living room as I looked at them and pressed for answers. "So, where's the cat that only lets you hold it?"

Blake teared up. "I didn't mean to lie to you. It's just… I've been feeling awful."

Queenie said nothing. That was even more humiliating than an explanation.

My phone rang. It was my mother. "Did you find Queenie? Your father just reheated the food for the third time."

Something squeezed my throat. My folks waited for three hours just to see their would-be daughter-in-law.

I looked at Queenie and said softly, "You don't have to wait anymore, Mom. Queenie's never coming again."

Queenie jerked her head up. "What was that?"

A crying Blake immediately latched on to me. "I'm sorry. Please don't fight with her. Not for me."

I pulled my hand away and stepped back. The back of my hand crashed into the edge of the shoe rack. Soon, a trickle of blood oozed from the wound.

Queenie extended her arm without thinking, but then Blake started crying harder. When she heard him, her hand froze.

Her reaction told me everything I needed to know. So, I held my hand by my side and said, "Let's break up, Queenie."