Блейз Клемент - The Cat Sitter's Cradle

I walked away from the table and flipped open my phone.

“Hey.”

“Hey there. What are you doing?”

Even the sound of Ethan’s voice made my heart speed up a little bit. “I’m sitting here with my favorite men in the world having dinner.”

“Your favorite men? Shouldn’t I be there?”

“Yes, you should. Come over. We’ve got fresh fish on the grill and ice-cold beer.”

“Nice! I’m on my way.”

I hung up and walked back to the table.

Michael said, “Who was that?”

“Ethan,” I said demurely.

Michael raised one eybrow. “Really?”

He and Paco shared a look.

Paco said, “How’s he doing, anyway?”

I sat down and scooped another serving of potato salad onto my plate.

“You can ask him yourself. He’s coming over.”

* * *

When Ethan arrived, he and Michael and Paco all stood around on the deck with their hands in their pockets, swaying back and forth and talking in that deep-toned, monosyllabic way that men do when they’re a little uncomfortable. Then suddenly Michael and Paco disappeared inside, and Ethan and I were left alone.

We walked down to the beach and sat down on the sand and watched the waves crashing in. The birds and crickets were still in the throes of their evening performance, and at times it was all so loud we had to speak up a little just to be heard over them.

Finally I said, “I’m scared.”

He tilted his head. “Of what?”

I waved my hand back and forth between us. “You know. This. ”

“Yeah, I know. So what else is new?”

“Very funny.”

“I wasn’t joking.”

I looked up at him. I could tell by the look in his eyes that it was true. He wasn’t joking. He was dead serious.

“I’m sorry, it’s just sometimes I feel like we’re at a carnival, and we keep getting on the same carousel over and over again because you’re afraid to get on the big-kid rides.”

I said, “Ethan, do you have any idea how many people die every year on roller coasters?”

He rolled his eyes.

I said, “Okay. I know, I know. Believe me, I know. All my friends are saying I need to just move on with my life and stop being so…” I searched for the right word. “Safe.”

Ethan said, “Wait a minute, you talked to your friends about me?”

“Well, no, not you in particular, just about relationships.”

“Ah.”

He looked a little disappointed. Then I thought of Cora popping that piece of chocolate bread in her mouth and the twinkle in her eye as she reminded me how delicious Ethan was.

I smiled. “Okay, maybe I did mention you a couple of times.”

He grinned and looked out at the water. “That’s good, I guess.”

“I’m sorry I’m so neurotic. I’m really trying to change. Believe me, I don’t want to spend every moment of my life feeling like I’m hiding from something.”

He turned to me. “Well, maybe it’s time to change that. Maybe it’s time to start living every moment as if you’re finding something. What if every moment is a discovery?”

I laid my hand on top of his and looked up into his big brown eyes. I said, “That is the corniest fucking thing you have ever said in your entire life.”

He burst out laughing. “I know, right? High five!”

I clapped my hand into his and he pulled me closer. I did my best impersonation of a self-help hippie guru: “What if every moment is a beautiful blooming lotus blossom of discovery?”

He chuckled, and we both sat there a while longer and listened to the waves and the dying chorus of birds and crickets.

Finally he said, “But you have to admit, it’s not bad advice.”

* * *

As we were walking up to the house, I saw Michael and Paco out on the deck clearing away the dinner dishes, but when they saw us coming they scattered back inside like mice.

I walked Ethan over to the carport. Before we even got to his car he pulled me into his arms.

“Tell Paco and your brother I said thanks for the beer, and call me if you need me.”

I felt his strong arms slide around the small of my back and a wave of goose bumps flowed across my entire body.

“I will. Thanks for coming by. You totally made my day.”

I could feel his chest rise and fall against mine with every breath he took. He cocked his head to one side and said, “Your hair looks good.”

“I know. I dried it with a hair dryer.”

“Totally works.”

I laid my hand on the back of his neck and gently drew his lips to mine.

25

I walked behind Ethan’s car a little ways down the lane until his taillights disappeared around the curve. Then I came back up with my arms wrapped around my shoulders like I was giving myself a good hug. I was halfway up the steps to my apartment when Michael poked his head out of the house.

“Hey, where’s your gentleman caller going?”

I put one hand on my hip. “He’s going home, Michael. Where do you think he’s going?”

He smirked. “I figured he’d be going right up those stairs with you, like he did last night.”

I suddenly felt like a fifteen-year-old girl caught making out with a boy on the front porch by her father. My cheeks turned red hot, and I started back up the stairs.

He pumped his fist. “Yes! Busted.”

I stopped and turned. “You know what, Michael? Grow up!”

Paco appeared in the doorway and started pulling Michael back inside, but he wasn’t giving up that easily. “Hey, if the carport’s a-rockin’, don’t come a-knockin’!”

I said, “Hilarious,” and slammed the door behind me.

I heard Paco say something, and then Michael shouted, “Oh, come on, Dixie! I’m just teasing!”

No matter how old we get, no matter how mature or well adjusted we are, we all have our own inner child hidden somewhere deep inside us. I think there’s also an angst-ridden teenager in there, too. In my case, sometimes she gets out and tears things up a bit, especially since there’s nothing better than having an older sibling around to get that inner teenager riled up. Every once in a while I turn into the haughty, emotional fifteen-year-old brat I once was, and Michael turns into my sadistic, teasing older brother.

I stretched out on the mattress, wishing I’d put the clean sheets back on earlier, and pulled the comforter over me. I fumed for a little bit, but I knew by the morning it would all be fine. I wasn’t even sure what I was so steamed about. Either I was embarrassed that Michael and Paco knew Ethan had spent the night, or I was embarrassed that I had tried to hide it from them, or I was just embarrassed that I was embarrassed.

Whatever it was, I felt like an idiot. I’d have to apologize to Michael for reacting like a pubescent diva. I knew he was thrilled that I was getting closer to Ethan, and I knew there was nothing he wanted more than for me to be happy.

* * *

That night, I dreamed that I lived on a deserted island in a grass hut, with a bed made out of bamboo sticks and palm fronds, and a little shelf over the bed made out of abalone shells. Eventually I realized it wasn’t just any island I was on. It was Gilligan’s Island, and it wasn’t a TV show, it was real. There were other grass huts all around mine where all the other castaways lived, everyone except Ginger, who lived at the other end of the island in a huge glass-and-steel football stadium with a domed roof and a huge expanse of green Astroturf carpeting.

I was standing next to Ginger in the center of the stadium. It was completely dark except for a few shafts of light cutting through the blackness and making pools of green light on the floor. There was someone climbing up one of the walls, dangerously high—he must have been almost ten stories off the ground. I turned to Ginger and said, Who is that? Her wavy red hair was cascading over her shoulders and glistening in the light. She said, Dixie, that’s Todd.