“I don’t have a car. How do you expect me to carry a cat and a box?”
“Can you take a taxi? I’ll pay for the taxi. I’ll pay you triple for each day. Oh, please, please, I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.”
She could hear the girl breathing on the other end of the line. She could imagine her twisting the telephone cord between her fingers.
“I was supposed to meet my friends,” Maite lied.
“I promise, I’ll pay you triple. I’ll pay for the extra time, the cab…Bring me the box and the cat. Please, I really need them.”
“Well, all right. What’s the address?” Maite asked, reaching for the notepad she kept by the refrigerator and scribbling down the information.
“Don’t give them to anyone else. You understand?”
“Yes, yes.”
“Half an hour. You’ll be there?”
“Yes, fine.”
After hanging up, Maite headed into Leonora’s apartment and stuffed the cat in the carrier. The tabby was too fat—it barely fit inside the little metal bin. The box wasn’t large, but it was still cumbersome to lug downstairs when she was dragging an overweight feline. For a moment she had thought to take the bus, to tell the girl she had called a taxi, then pocket the difference. She decided it was too much effort and opted for the taxi.
She assumed Leonora was at a friend’s place, but the cab dropped her off at a printer’s shop. On the windows of the shop the printer had pasted numerous posters and business cards, so it was impossible to see the inside clearly. Maite managed to pry the door open and juggle a cat and a box, shoving both in after some muttering.
There was a long counter and behind the counter all the printing equipment and paper and ink necessary to run a business like this. A young man was operating a mimeograph machine in a corner, cranking a handle.
Maite set the box on the counter and the cat on the ground. She wondered if Leonora was in the back.
The young man turned to look at Maite. He had a stylish beard and wore a t-shirt and overalls, and behind his ear he’d tucked a pencil. His hair was longish and his eyebrows were very thick, like a pair of extra furry azotadores had taken up residence above his eyes. He nodded at her, wiped his hands on a rag he carried in his pocket, and approached the counter.
“Can I help you?” he asked.
“I’m here to see Leonora.”
The young man frowned. “Leonora? Why would you come to see her here?”
“She said she’d meet me at this address. I have some things for her.”
“I didn’t realize she’d be coming around.”
“Maybe she’s running late.”
“What time did she say she’d meet you?”
“About right now.”
The young man nodded. There were three chairs by the window. Maite sat on one of them, and she placed the cat on another. She kept the box on her lap, drumming her fingers against it. The young man went back to cranking the handle of the mimeograph. In a corner, a small metallic fan turned its blades.
After ten minutes had passed Maite began to fidget, tapping her foot against the floor. After around twenty minutes the damn cat began to meow mournfully periodically. When a whole hour had gone by, Maite stood up and approached the counter again.
“I think Duke is hungry,” the young man told her. He was smiling a little.
Maite blinked. For a moment she didn’t know what he meant. Then she realized he was talking about the damn cat. Of course he was hungry! Maite was hungry herself.
“Do you have any idea where I could find Leonora? I need to deliver the cat to her.”
“Sorry. I mean, if she’s not home…” The young man scratched his cheek. “Could be she’s at her sister’s house. It’s near here.”
“Do you know the phone number for her sister’s house?”
