Charlie Anders: Clover

Then Berkley looked over at the new cat, who was watching the whole thing from on top of the bookcase. Berkley narrowed his eyes and told her, “I want to hurt you. But I want to bring back the other human more. If I help you, can you bring the humans back together? Yes or no?”

Clover looked down at him and said, “I think so. I’ll do what I can.”

A few hours later, Anwar had stumbled out of the house and the cats were alone again. “I keep forgetting who I am,” Clover said. “It’s hard to hold on to. But I remember, I begged the teachers to help me save you from my family, and I talked about how you were suffering. They said if I understood cats so much, why didn’t I try being one? I was like, ‘Fine.’ I didn’t realize what I had signed up for until years later.”

“So you climbed into a place that you cannot get out of again,” Berkley suggested. “Because there is not enough room to turn around.”

“Sort of, yeah.”

“So,” said Berkley, tail curled and ears pointed. “Don’t turn around.”

Anwar’s ankle was kind of swollen and he had no money for a doctor visit, and the stain on the bathroom wall had gotten bigger. The Olde Tyme Pub had gotten a totally bullshit citation from the North Carolina Department of Alcohol Law Enforcement, which had the hilarious acronym of ALE. His truck still kept not starting. Anwar longed to rest his head on Joe’s shoulder, breathing in that reassuring scent, so Joe could say, Fuck ’em, it’ll all be good. On his lonesome, Anwar only knew how to spiral.

Clover came up to him as he sat on the bed, getting laboriously dressed, and perched on the edge. She made noises that usually meant “feed me” or “throw my fuzzy ball.” Anwar just shrugged, because he’d wasted three days trying to get her to talk.

Just as Anwar finally got his good shirt buttoned and stood up, Clover said, “Hey.”

“Well,” Anwar said. “Hey.”

“Oh thank god. I finally did it. I’m back,” Clover said. “Oh thank goodness. I need your help. I think this is a test, and I’m failing it. One time before, I became a bird, but I needed help to turn back into a person. And now I feel totally stuck in cat form.”

Anwar was already reaching for his phone to go on Meeyu and @ that guy, to let him know the cat finally started talking again. He no longer cared if he was being a crazy person. What had sanity done for him lately?

“The longer I go without turning back into a person, the harder it’s going to be,” Clover said, jumping on the bed. “You look like shit, by the way. Berkley is worried about you. We both are.”

“Hey, it’s fine. You’re okay.” Anwar picked her up and looked into her twitchy little face. “I already told those guys, the ones who dropped you off here. They know you’re talking again. They’re probably on their way. They’ll help you out, and maybe they’ll give Joe and me some more luck.”

Clover squirmed, partly involuntarily. “You really shouldn’t take any luck from those guys. It’ll come with huge strings attached.”

“Well, they told me that you’re a liar. And you know, I have nothing to lose.” But Anwar had a sudden memory of the man saying, You wouldn’t really be you any more.

“Please! You have to help me change back to a person before they get here,” Clover said.

“I don’t know how to do that.”

And anyway, it was too late. The door opened, without a knock or Anwar having to unlock it, and a man entered. He had dark skin pitted with acne scars, and long braids, and a purple turtleneck and matching corduroys. “So,” the man said, “what does she have to say for herself?”

“You wasted a trip,” Clover told him. “I’m still working on changing myself back. I only just got my human voice working. I’ve got a ways to go before I’m in my own body again.”

The man shrugged and picked Clover up with one hand. “You already did what we needed you to do. Just think what we’ll be able to do with a cat who talks like a person and knows how to do magic. You’ll be way more useful to us in this form.” Clover started squirming and shouting, and tried to claw the man, but he had her in a tight grip. He turned to Anwar. “Thanks for whatever you did. We’ll consider this a down payment, if you decide you want more luck.”

“No!” Clover sounded terrified, on an existential level. “This is messed up. I don’t want to be stuck as a cat forever. I have a boyfriend. I have friends. You have to help me!” She looked right at Anwar, her yellow eyes fixed on him, and said, “You can’t let them take me.”

Anwar thought about how things had been before, with just the one cat, and Joe there, and everything peaceful. He wanted nothing more than to bring back that version of his life. But he looked at Clover, her whole body contorted with terror—claws out, eyes huge and round, mouth full of teeth. And he knew what Joe would say if he was here: You gotta live like the fuckers don’t own you.

The words came out before Anwar had even thought them through: “You can’t take my cat.”

“I beg your pardon?” the man said. His stare was impossible to meet.

“You can’t,” Anwar swallowed. “That’s my cat. You can’t take her.”

“Thank you thank you,” Clover whispered.

“This isn’t a cat. She’s a whole other thing. And whatever she told you, she was lying. That’s what she does.”

Anwar drew courage from the fact that the weird man was arguing with him, instead of just taking the cat and leaving. “You gave this cat to me. You didn’t say it was a loan. She’s mine. I have all the records to prove it.”

And now the man did turn to leave, but Clover leapt out of his arms. She landed on three feet, nearly tumbled head over tail, and then got her balance fast enough to run back into the apartment. She headed for one of the hundred hiding places that she’d gotten to know, but the man was right behind her. Anwar just stood and watched as the man ran through the apartment, knocking over Joe’s guitar. He was right on top of Clover, leaning to scoop her up.

There was another cat between the man and Clover. As he bent down to grab the cat who was still shouting in English, his hand connected instead with Berkley. Who bit his thumb, hard enough to draw blood.

Berkley growled at the man, in a pose Anwar had never seen before. Standing his ground, snarling, bloody teeth bared. Roaring. Like a tiny lion. This would have been the most ridiculous sight ever, if it weren’t so heroic.

Clover stopped and looked at Berkley, defending her. Her jaw dropped open; her ears were all the way up. “Berkley, shit,” she said. “You just bit the thumb of the most powerful man on Earth. I can’t believe you. Whatever happens now, I want you to know I regret leaving you behind. And no matter what price I end up paying, I’m glad I rescued you. I’m sorry, and I understand what you went through.”

That last phrase was like a string breaking, or a knot being undone after hours of pulling and worrying. As soon as Clover said understand, the cat was gone. A naked woman stood in Anwar’s hallway, holding Berkley in her arms. He looked up at her and seemed to recognize her. He put his head on her shoulder and purred.

The woman looked at the man, who was nursing his thumb. “I know you’re still pissed about Siberia. I get it. But jeez. This was mean, even for you.”

The man rolled his eyes, then turned to look at Anwar. “I hope you enjoy not having any luck ever again.” Then he stomped out of the apartment, leaving the door open.

As soon as the man was gone, Anwar fell onto the couch, hands on his face. He felt weird having a naked stranger in his home, and even weirder that this girl had seen so much of him at his worst, and he’d had his hand on her face so many times. The whole thing was weird. And he felt a huge letdown in his gut, because he’d convinced himself somehow that he and Joe would get more luck and it would be fine.