Theresa Weir: The Girl with the Cat Tattoo

“What are you watching?”

“ Rear Window. “

“Love Hitchcock.”

“Me too.” The room was dark except for the light coming from the television screen. “How do you feel?”

“Okay.”

He scooted up in bed and watched the end of the movie with her.

“How did you become a cop?” she asked as the credits rolled.

“My dad was a cop. His dad was a cop. It just seemed the natural thing, I guess.”

“That must have been weird, having a cop for a dad.”

“Not at all. I had a really normal childhood.”

“What are you going to do now? I mean, about the undercover stuff? Can I ask you that? Will you have to move?” She didn’t want him to move. Even though they were through, she didn’t want him to move. And she understood how conflicted her emotions were.

“I was given the option of moving to another city, or leaving undercover work. I chose to leave undercover work. I’ll just be a regular detective with a desk and a badge.”

“No secrets?”

“No secrets.”

“What about the shelter?”

“I’m staying on there. It’s part of an ongoing investigation that I’m not at liberty to go into right now, but I want to stay on. I like it. And I hope you and Max will keep coming for story hour.”

She wanted a clean cut. She didn’t want to have to see him again. He was making this so hard, but she couldn’t refuse to read stories to children who wanted to hear them.

She tossed the remote between them. “I’d better go. We have to get up early tomorrow. A driver will be downstairs at 6:00 a.m.”

He reached across the bed and fumbled for her hand. Found it. Held it. “I’m sorry. That’s all I want to say. I know I have no excuses. I knew how you felt about cops. I knew about David.”

She sensed that he wanted to say something else, that he was holding back.

“That’s all,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

She got to her feet. “Come on, Max. Let’s go.”

Max stretched, then curled his paws over his face and snuggled closer to Joe.

“He can stay,” Joe said.

“His food and litter box are in my room.”

“Leave the door open.”

Leave the door open. How had this gone from never going to unlock the door, to leave the door open? And Max. How could he do this to her? Cuddling up with Joe like that?

She tried once more. “Max?”

Joe nudged the cat in a weak attempt to get him to leave. Nothing. Sleeping with the enemy. But it was getting harder to think of Joe as the enemy.

Melody went back to her room, and she left the door open.

Max waited until Melody was settled, waited until she’d turned off the light, and then he joined her in her bed. His ploy hadn’t worked. Of course he wouldn’t stay the night with Joe if Melody wasn’t there.

He was looking forward to tomorrow. He hoped his long-lost sister or brother might see him on television, recognize him, and they could somehow reunite. He wasn’t sure how, but he hoped. Of course his plans had failed before. Look at Joe and Melody. But had it really been a failure? She’d been happy for a while, and he had saved Joe’s life.

Melody wrapped her arm around him and pulled him close. “Oh Max. I adore you.”

He purred loudly, adoring her right back.

Would his siblings recognize him through the television? Without being able to smell him? He might have to do something very Max to get their attention. Maybe his signature move.

“So how did you two meet?” Ellen asked.

Melody explained about Max. About how he’d ended up at the shelter where Joe worked. And that Melody’s address was on Max’s collar, and Joe brought Max home.

“Oh, Max again,” Ellen said.

The audience laughed. The audience laughed all the time, even when nothing was funny. But Max was okay with that. Ellen was even cuter in person than she was on TV. And she smelled good. A little like dogs, but also like soap and clean clothes. And coffee. With cream. And maybe like the sandwich she’d eaten before the show.

It was time for his signature move. Something he and his siblings had come up with years ago while watching Michael Jackson on television. Max called it the cat walk.

He jumped out of Ellen’s arms.

“Oh, I guess he’s tired of me,” Ellen said.

Everybody laughed.

Max stood firmly on all fours, then began walking backward.

The audience really laughed then.

So he did it some more.

Ellen was laughing so hard, tears streamed down her face. Max didn’t understand the big deal. He jumped on the couch and nuzzled under Melody’s arm to get on her lap.

“Can we see a replay of that?” Ellen asked.

They played it back, and they slowed it down, and they sped it up. And the laughter just kept going. It hurt Max’s ears. When everybody finally calmed down, Ellen said: “That was quite remarkable.”

“I’ve never seen him do that before,” Melody said.

“My show will do that to a person. A cat. I mean a cat. My show will do that to a cat.” Ellen wiggled in her soft chair and leaned closer. “So, when are you two getting married? Not you and Max, you and Joe. When are you and Joe getting married? Because if two people were ever meant for each other…”

Awkward.

Melody shifted nervously, and Max could smell her fear. He meowed and ducked his face into her sweater, hoping to calm her. “We aren’t ever getting married,” she said. She glanced at Joe.

He had a silly smile on his face, and Max began to wonder at his calmness. He was so calm he almost seemed ready to melt through the couch. Kinda like Max felt once the initial buzz of catnip wore off.

“When are we getting married?” Joe asked.

Melody frowned at him. “We aren’t getting married.”

“Have you asked her?” This from Ellen. Max pulled his head out from its hiding place. He had to watch. Ellen was a better matchmaker than Max! Well, he’d brought Melody and Joe together initially, but Ellen was doing her part. They could be a team. A matchmaking team.

“No,” Joe said in a way that made him sound surprised by his own revelation.

“Do you plan to?”

Oh, Ellen was good.

Joe thought about that a moment. “Yeah.” He nodded in a way that made him sound completely firm in this new resolve.

Melody was staring at him in horror, shaking her head. They all knew what was coming next. Max just hoped and prayed Joe would do this right. And he didn’t disappoint.

Joe slipped from the couch. Careful of his injury, he eased himself down on one knee, extended a hand to Melody. She took it, but with a dazed, befuddled, I’ll-kill-you-later look in her eye.

“Melody, will you marry me?”

Max had always wondered about those public proposals. Where the guy proposed in front of an audience. Like at a football game or some such nonsense. Really, what if the girl didn’t even care about the guy? But Melody cared about Joe. Really cared. Max knew it.

“What are you doing?” Melody asked.

“Asking you to be my wife.”

“This is ridiculous.”

“Is it?”

“Yes.”

“Maybe Max should decide,” Ellen said. “Maybe you should propose to Max.”

Joe dropped Melody’s hand as if it were an old fish. He reached and cradled Max’s paw gently in his palm. “Max, should I take your mistress Melody’s hand in marriage?”

Max meowed in agreement.

“Max!” Melody said in shock. “Maxwell!”

“And you know what?” Ellen said. “I just happen to be an ordained minister.” On cue, bridesmaids appeared. Suddenly Ellen was decked out in some kind of official-looking white robe with gold trim. She began to recite wedding vows.