Page 24 of Kitten

“But that doesn’t make sense,” I said. James alwaystalked about how all the places in gentrified areas only accepted card or digital pay, and how bad it was for homeless people or senior citizens. “Isn’t this town supposed to be, like, for rich people?”

“We’ve always been cash only,” she said coolly. “There’s an ATM by the bank.”

My stomach turned. All the customers’ polite and emotionless faces suddenly seemed to resemble Mrs. Hartley with her pursed lips and piercing eyes. I pictured them all asking me what I did, what I was doing. I don’t know, I wanted to confess, I have no idea what I’m doing here. I dug through my purse, only to discover that I’d forgotten my wallet.

Behind me, feet tapped. “I’m so sorry,” I said. “I don’t have my debit card. But I can pay for these, really. Can I Venmo you? Or if you know how to do a wire transfer, like a direct debit, I can also do that. I can even buy more things.”

“Listen, don’t worry about it. It’s on us.”

“No,” I said. “I really can pay you. I can go home right now and come back with the money.”

“Please don’t worry about it,” she repeated. I’d lost her attention completely. Her eyebrows furrowed as she focused on nullifying my order on her machine. “It’s on us,” she said, her eyes still fixed on the screen, because I had not moved. “Please enjoy.”

—

The drizzle became a downpouron my walk back. I slid the pastries under my shirt for safekeeping. Fifteen minutespassed before I registered that I’d gone down the wrong street. I retraced my steps and tried again.

Two renavigations later, I arrived, wet and shaking, at James’s front door. The hollyhocks with their oversized faces and wobbly stems drooped under the force of the rain. I avoided their miserable gazes.

Silver’s meow sounded before I opened the door. She darted around my ankles, rubbing her head against my wet legs. “Hi, sweet girl,” I said. I felt much better already.

“Katie?” James’s voice sounded from the kitchen. “I was just about to come out and look for you.”

I dumped the pastries onto the table, the paper sleeves translucent with rain. With a feeling of deflation, I knew they were ruined.

“You got them.” James’s voice was artificially bright.

“Why aren’t you in bed?”

“It’s almost noon. You were gone for ages.”

“I really wish you stayed in bed. That was the whole point of me going out, to do something nice for you.”

“Silver was freaking out,” he said. “She was clawing at the door after you left, meowing bloody murder.”

“She was?” I lifted Silver into my arms. She began to purr. I was overcome with the same enormous pride I felt when I returned the beanie to the baby. I recalled the way the baby’s eyes bore into mine, trusting and rapt. Needing me, it seemed in that moment, as much as it needed anybody.

“She missed you,” James said.

“Youmissedme?” I bounced Silver up and down on my hip. “I’m sorry I ever left you, I am.” Her purring became immediately stronger, sending waves of ticklish pleasurethrough my chest. Motherhood was easy, I thought, feeling only somewhat ridiculous. Maybe I would get Silver a beanie. She would look cute in a beanie. “I’m sorry, I am.” And, in my head, in a serious voice: I would do anything for you.

The coffee was cold, but James still drank it without putting it into the microwave. This wasn’t like him; probably he didn’t want to draw attention to how long I’d been gone. My pleasure faded. I had the urge to yank his cup and put it into the microwave myself, tell him he didn’t have to fuss over me so much.

“Thanks for doing this,” he said. “How much do I owe you?”

“You don’t,” I said. “I wanted to treat you.”

“You have, just with the thought.”

“But it’s not about the thought.” Even while speaking, I knew that if I’d actually paid for the pastries, I wouldn’t be putting up a fight.

“Didn’t you say you only had fifty in your bank account?” James kept his tone light.

“Fine.” I didn’t reciprocate. “Why don’t we count this as your mother’s gift?”

“That’s for something else. Something special.”

“How much did she give you?”