Page 34 of Kitten

“When do I have until?”

“The next two weeks, ideally.”

“Okay,” I said. “Thank you.”

“Yeah,” said Lou. “I mean, it’s not so bad, right? At least you have James. Imagine if you were single. If this happened to me, I’d be fucked.”

It was true, I was lucky. We ended the conversation over promises to grab a drink once I was back in the city. Briefly I entertained the idea of never going back. I would stay with Silver in Holme. There were enough cans of food. We would have all the time in the world to swim. This would be my life.

The cat food was slimy and bitter crawling up my throat. My stomach turned; I grabbed Silver’s bowl and spat out into it. Then I messaged James.

Where are you?

Hey b

?

He typed. The bubbles disappeared. My screen filled with a photo of him and Isabelle, smiling and pointing at a man with a small pig in his arms. Isabelle’s eyes were closed, her smile rapturous. Her necklace caught the flash, puncturing her chest with a starry white hole. James looked happier than I’d ever seen him.

We found this guy with a pet pig

Come join it’s just a 15 min walk

I turned off my phone.

The room filled with a new silence. The storm had ended, and soon enough I could make out the sound of Silver’s paws pattering down the stairs. She slunk into the kitchen, chirping. When she saw me holding her bowl, she stilled.

“Please don’t be mad,” I said.

But she simply jumped onto the table, sidled up to me, planted her paws on my chest, and licked the corners of my grease-stained lips.

10

The next day was James’s last in Holme. We walked into town in silence. James was hungover, that much was clear. He wore a hoodie printed with a cartoon tiger, his high school mascot, and sweatpants. He always wore either a hoodie or sweatpants, never both at once, and the combination of the two made him look strangely defenseless. I was vaguely alarmed by how little I was attracted to him.

Was it a big deal to decline getting to know your boyfriend’s friends? I wouldn’t mind if he refused to meet Lou. But Lou and I didn’t have the kind of relationship James had with Isabelle. Beyond my mother, James was the only person in my life I really cared about. Funnily, I wished he could meet himself. He would be pleased that somebody treated me as well as he did.

James led me to a store called Lydia’s, the name painted in looping cursive on a hanging sign. On the side wall, a colorful mural by local schoolchildren readHOLME SWEET HOLME.

“I’ve been meaning to take you here before I leave,” said James. “It’s an arts and crafts store. My mom knows theowner of the place, so we get good deals on the stuff. I thought you’d like it.”

I ran my fingers down a row of plush yarns, thinking about the silken nooks of Silver’s ears.

“Do you see anything you like? Paints, canvases, brushes?”

“You know I don’t paint anymore.”

“Maybe you’re just in a rut. If I were as good as you…” He trailed off.

“You’d have done something with it?”

“No. I was going to say, if I were as good as you, I’d be doing it all day long. That’s it.”

I made my voice light. “You can’t just paint all day long, James. My mother tried that. It didn’t work.”

“But I’ve seen her stuff. She could genuinely make money from it if she wanted to. There’s a huge audience for replicas.”

Worse than hearing about all the money I could make from my art was hearing it about my mother. “Fine, okay. I’ll take some watercolors.”