Life Reconstructed: Chapter Twelve
The next morning, slightly more hungover then she wanted to admit to herself, Cat drug her half-protesting body out of bed. Standing under the hot spray of the shower, her thoughts went back to the night before—her and Amelia sitting on the floor of her studio, candles lit on the polished wooden floors, sparking against the mirrored glass of one wall; Amelia telling Cat about her separation… (wine had a way, after all, of make best friends out of new acquaintances.)
“I still love him, you know? It’s weird but I thought, I thought once I finally found the courage to walk out the door those feelings would slip off my shoulders.” Shaking her head, Amelia took another long swallow of wine.
“I’m sorry.” Cat felt the impotence of those words sharply, but they were all she had to offer the other woman.
Amelia shrugged. “Me too. But this place. I think this place is going to be good for me. A fresh start. And you know—I always wanted to start my own business.”
“It’ll keep you occupied.”
Groaning under the spray of her shower, Cat considered that comment might have been a bit insensitive. Pressing her forehead against the porcelain tile, she remembered other things, too.
Cat telling her how lonely she’d been.
“…you know, I’m not sure but maybe Matthew is right. Maybe I did snap that door in two pieces for a reason.” Yup. She’d told Amelia about her kitchen door.
“Fuck.” Twisting off the water, Amelia threw back her stall door, reaching blindly for her towel.
“And what would that be?” Amelia asked, leaning forward. They were on the second or third bottle of wine by that point. It was that time in the drinking conversation when everything become bloated, emotional, a whispered sort of confidence…
“Maybe I was forcing myself to get out of the rut I’d found myself in.”
Amelia’s forehead crinkled as she waited for Cat to expand on that.
“Everything had become so banal, so boring. My job, my apartment. Everything was so…gray and tired.”
“Really? That’s funny.”
Cat felt her head tilt backward. “Why’s that?”
“Because that’s not how you appeared when I sat in your office the other day. You were…kind, determined. Invested. You were a breath of fresh air in the business start-up world.”
“Yeah but, I hadn’t been like that even a day earlier. It’d been a long time since I’d felt that kind of presence in my work.”
“Ah. I see.” Amelia nodded slowly. “But then you broke a door.”
Cat was solemn. “Stupid fucking door.”
Amelia raised her glass. “I’ll cheers to that.”
Wiping the moisture off her bathroom mirror, Cat felt a little of the anxiety churning at her stomach loosen. So she’d said a little more than she wanted to, then she meant to share. So she’d spilled her guts to a woman that, five days ago, she’d never met. So what.
She hadn’t said anything that wasn’t real. Wasn’t true.
And she liked Amelia—liquor notwithstanding.
“Well, here’s to stupid fucking doors,” she said, repeating herself from the night before, a smile just forming on her tight lips.
Walking back into her bedroom, she was just in time to hear her phone buzzing on her night stand. Reaching down, she saw a text message pop up on the screen.
F: AMELIA K.
I hate you for making me drink that much. J
And then, as if a sign of validation, Cat felt herself exhale at the message. Typing as she walked to her closet, Cat responded:
F: KITTY CAT CRYER
The feeling is mutual
She’d only just slid on of the doors open when her phone buzzed again.
F: AMELIA K.
When can we do it again? J
Cat bit her lips but it did nothing to mar the smile breaking out across her face. There was something so satisfying in having some reach out to her, to contact her…
F: KITTY CAT CRYER
You’re incorrigible! (I like that about you.)
F: AMELIA K.
Obviously one of my better qualities. Okay girl. Chin up at work today. Don’t be jealous that I’m contemplating a little hair of the dog right now, either.
F: KITTY CAT CRYER
Don’t worry. Your day will come.
F: AMELIA K.
I’m counting on it!
Shaking her head, Cat reached into her closet, rifling through her clothes until she came across a light blue pullover sweater and a pair of slightly too-large pants. What she needed today was comfort; her body felt bloated, weak from indulgence. Frowning at herself in the mirror, she turned away from her shapeless, drab appearance. Still, somedays fashion be damned. Riding after the thought, she considered that, for the first time in a long time, she was looking forward to a quiet even at home later that night.
It felt nice. To be busy, to be social. The luxury of wanting a little alone time.
With a smile, she threw her purse strap over one shoulder as she headed for her front door. “Balance. That’s all you needed. A little perspective maybe, too.”
She’d even been willing to extend that newfound perspective on her coworker Janice. Which, it turned out, was a mistake. Some outlooks didn’t need to change. Walking into the main lobby later that same afternoon, empty coffee cup in hand, Cat had been on the verge of filling up her mug when she’d been spotted.
By none other than Janice herself.
“Hey Catherine.”
“Afternoon.” Cat smiled politely at the older woman as she placed her cup on the airport, ready to refill the mug.
“I don’t think we ever got to finish what we’d been talking about the other day…” Janice raised both eyebrows tellingly, waiting for Cat to respond
For her part, Cat tried to look blank. It was only delaying the inevitable she knew. But still…
Janice smiled meaningfully. “I know you’re looking for a new club to join.”
Cat felt her face flush. Janice hadn’t bothered to lower her voice. In fact, Cat wasn’t entirely sure this wasn’t said a bit louder than her greeting before. In the background, she heard the unmistakable chime of the credit union’s door buzzer, announcing the entrance of a new customer, the ping of keyboards as tellers quickly tallied up deposits…. She was thankful that, standing in front of the coffee cart, at least no one could see her expression. The pink rising in her cheeks couldn’t be ignored.
Cat’s smile stiffened. As if Janice’s words weren’t humiliating enough, now she’d have the benefit of an audience of her peers to overhear it. Just what she needed.
Oh, get over yourself. No one cares about your private life. And it’s not lame to join a club.
At the words, Cat felt a little of her smile smooth.
“Did you give any thought to joining my knitting group?”
At the words, Cat stilled, unsure what to do with her face. She hadn’t thought Janice would be so…blunt about it. So direct. She probably should have known better. Janice thrived in uncomfortably atmospheres. Cat wasn’t sure if that was a byproduct of her social awkwardness, or if it was a deliberate attack strategy.
Either way, Cat scrambled for something to say She wasn’t a knitter. Probably, it would be something fun. Not her kind of fun. But someone’s, surely. Maybe. She guessed.
But to do it alongside Janice?
God no.
It’s not that Janice was so completely unlikeable—although Cat certainly didn’t seek out her company. It’s just, Janice could be…much. Overbearing, manipulative, and a little rude. Kind of like right now. She looked sympathetic but her voice was a fog-horn and her implication was only too clear. Someone needed to help out poor, pathetic Cat. And everyone should hear about how good a person Jancie was, for being the one kind enough to do it.
It was mortifying.
Either that, or Janice was oblivious.
Either way, she wasn’t exactly the company Cat was looking for.
“Oh. I may have mentioned it, but I don’t actually knit…”
“That’s all right,” Janice said, waving away her words aggressively. “It’s super easy to learn. I could teach you.”
“Oh no. I wouldn’t want to keep you from your own work.” Cat couldn’t quite meet Janice’s eyes.
“Nonsense. It’s always nice to introduce someone to the craft.”
And again, this is where Janice could get a little difficult. For as long as Cat had known her, the woman just wouldn’t let something go until she got her own way. She’d just keep politely (irrefutably politely) barreling her way past protests and arguments to the contrary until she simply wore people down. Cat had never known a woman more prone to refuse social cues and behavioral codes.
Like now.
“She can’t.”
At the introduction of a new voice to the conversation, both Janice and Cat turned to see a frail, short woman clomping up to them, her rheumy blue eyes staring directly at Janice’s arched expression.
Cat blinked. It was Mary. From cards. Mean Mary.
“Excuse me?”
“She can’t join your knitting group.” Mary said, tossing her head dismissively toward Cat.
Janice blinked, confused. “Uh, do you two know each other?”
Mary scowled, one arthritic hand curling around her plastic purse. “Why would I be talking to you now if we didn’t know each other?” she asked, one gnarled finger pointing between herself and Cat.
Janice nodded slowly. “Right. Of course.” She looked to Cat for an explanation.
Cat wasn’t sure she had one—and anyway, she wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. (And…Mary sort of scared her.)
“She’s on our Canasta team.”
“Oh, right” Janice said again. Then she brightened. “Well, maybe she’d be able to do bo—”
“What day of the week is your knitting group?” It wasn’t a question, more an accusation.
Janice squirmed. “Tuesdays.”
“Yup,” Mary said, almost before Janice finished speaking. “Nope. It wouldn’t work.”
Cat loved Mary.
Seeing no other way around the situation, Janice relented. Conceding the point, she turned back to Cat, who was now leaning against the coffee station, her cup of coffee half-obscuring her trembling mouth.
“Well, I’m sure we’re disappointed but…but Cansta sounds fun too.”
Mary harrumphed.
Janice looked vaguely harassed. “But, uh, I suppose I should get back to work…”
“Yeah. Me too….” Pushing off the coffee cart, Cat nodded towards Janice’s quickly back-pedaling figure. Then she glanced at the older woman still standing between them. “Nice to see you, Mary.” Lowering her voice, she added as she made to walk by: “and thank you.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Mary muttered. “Just remember not to stink.”
“I’ll do my best.”
“See you Monday. Don’t be late. Maybe I’ll even let you be my partner.”
“Monday?” Hearing the words, Janice, ever-hopeful, spun back around. “But I thought you said you played on Tuesday?”
“And what?” Mary asked, placing her hands on her hips. “Is there some law in town saying we can only play one night of the week?”
Janice actually took a half-step backward. “Uh, no…”
“I didn’t think so.” And with that, head held at an almost regal angle, Mary marched forward, toward the waiting, and quietly amused, bank teller who’d heard every damn word.
Walking back to her office, Cat considered that by now every member of the credit union probably knew that she belonged on a Canasta team, made up of almost entirely retired women…and one lone girl in her late twenties.
Opening her office door, Cat smiled.
She’d made the team.
She’d made the fucking team.
“Yes.”
