Chapter 20

I'll Huff and I'll Puff

After 15 minutes of arguing with the nurse, 10 minutes of trying to find the elevator, and 20 minutes of trying to hide the elevator buttons I crushed because of my impatience, I finally made it to the waiting room outside of Cat's ward.

An old man sat in the corner, reading a magazine and coughing every few seconds. Two middle-aged women huddled together, talking in hushed tones and glancing towards a door to a ward every few seconds. Emily sat right in the middle of the room, flipping through a tattered book.

Everyone looked up as I cleared my throat to make myself known, but only Emily stayed focused on me. "Paul? What are you doing here?"

"I came to see Cat."

Emily hesitated, her eyes darting around for a way out. "Didn't the nurse tell you? Cat- Cat isn't taking visitors as the moment."

"I need to see her," I pleaded.

Emily sighed and shook her head. "You can't just go in there without her permission. Wait out here a bit; maybe she'll change her mind."

We both knew that wasn't likely, but it was the only option I had. I settled into one of the dark red seats beside her, putting my head in my hands. I had to find a way to get to Cat.

Think, think, think. What did Cat like? She liked beaches, and tidal pools, and sunsets. She liked early morning walks, blueberries, and dogs. She liked…she liked…writing! Cat loved writing. And poems! If I could write Cat a poem, she would have to forgive me!

"Emily!" I nearly shouted. "I need a piece of paper and a pen."

Emily gave me a strange look, but dug around in her purse until she pulled out a small spiral notebook and a ballpoint pen. "You can tear out paper from here; I'm done with it."

I immediately began to scribble down words. Unfortunately, writing a poem was a bit harder than I expected. There had to be rhythm, and rhyme, and what on earth rhymed with cancer?

It took me a good 30 minutes and about 50 crumpled up papers, but finally I held up a small sheet of paper in success. It was perfect; sweet and simple.

My dearest Cat,

I wait for you.

You may be sick,

But I'll be true.

My rhymes aren't great,

But my meaning's clear.

If you ever need me,

I'll be here.

(But it would be even better if you just let me come in.)

"I need you to give this to Cat," I told Emily, stuffing it into her hand. "Please," I said as she opened her mouth to protest. "I need this."

She hesitated for a moment longer, and then nodded. She disappeared into Cat's room, and I began to pace. What if I was wrong? What if Cat hated the poem? What if she hated me? What if-

Emily entered the waiting room again. I turned to her hopefully, but she just handed me a folded piece of paper. I opened and smoothed it out with trembling fingers, scanning the shaky handwriting.

Your writing skills leave something to be desired.

But the very fact that you conspired

With the very helpful Emily,

To compose a poem and message for me,

Is a nice gesture; that I cannot deny.

But what I'd like to know, is why?

I sighed and began to write again. I should have known that Cat wouldn't just accept the poem and let me in. She always saw things as far more complex than they really were. Was it too much to believe that I loved her?

It's really not that complicated;

I think you can keep up.

I love and want to see you,

So what's with the holdup?

I handed the piece of paper to Emily. She gave me a small frown, but carried it to Cat. I waited, resisting the urge to pace again. I had to remain calm; I had to show Cat that I could be reasonable.

Emily returned a moment later, and I leaped out of my seat and snatched the note from her.

I know I should let you in,

Before you start complaining.

But your attempts at poetry,

Are rather entertaining.

I growled under my breath. Oh great, now Cat was getting a kick out of this! There went my serious and thoughtful gesture.

You're hesitation,

I deplore.

So I'll huff, and I'll puff,

And I'll break down your door.

I know how,

That story ends.

But in real life,

The wolf always wins.

I tried to hand the note to Emily, but she shook her head. "You know, I'm not some sort of supernatural mailman!" she complained.

"Of course not," I said, struggling to keep a straight face. "You're a supernatural mailwoman."

Emily's frown deepened, and I quickly backtracked. "Please, Emily. I have to talk to her, and this is the only way I can right now."

Emily's expression softened, and she accepted the note and brought it to Cat. The wait was longer this time, but at last she came back with Cat's poem.

Fire beats wolf,

Every single time.

And I'm sure you don't forget,

That red hair of mine.

Your efforts are sweet,

That I concede.

Poetry and great literature,

Are a mighty combination indeed.

You are devoted,

But I am sick.

Let this be my warning;

Enter at your own risk.

My heart jumped into my throat. She had said yes. She had said yes! I was finally going to see Cat.

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