Erwin was being patient, oh so patient. It was a hallmark of his personality and had held him in good stead at his job.
"Mrs. Arlington, I am so sorry. This is absolutely unacceptable."
The woman, her tight grey curls bobbing, nodded in satisfaction. She opened her mouth—satisfaction or not she had more to complain about—but Erwin beat her to the punch.
"Not only am I going to have the cleaning staff apologize to you personally, but I'm moving you to another room."
The woman was clearly taken aback but there was nothing she could say.
"Well … thank you."
"No problem at all!" Erwin turned and retrieved a room key off the board and presented it to her with a flourish. "I'll have a bellhop up right behind you to move your things." He smiled his signature sunny smile.
Mrs. Arlington strode off toward the elevators, smug triumph written across her face.
Erwin relaxed and let out a long, cleansing breath. Perhaps that would be the worst he had to deal with today. He doubted it.
The Empire, on Trost boulevard, was a very upscale hotel and Erwin was their front desk clerk and concierge. He had learned early that well-bred people were the worst to deal with. Their sense of entitlement overrode any faint crumb of politeness or civility they had. Erwin spent his entire day putting out fires. Some of them were so trivial it made him grit his teeth. (Mrs. Arlington had been outraged that there had been a small spill, left by the previous occupant, in the mini-bar.)
Erwin scanned the lobby and decided to check his phone real quick. He did so, scrolling through his few messages. Nile hadn't texted. He checked his voicemail just in case. Nothing. Erwin sighed in frustration. What the hell? Why couldn't he find someone who would at least treat him decently?
He was a handsome guy and sunny natured—the Empire was lucky to have him for this reason—and he was nice. Maybe too nice. Maybe that was it. He hated confrontation and was quick to give in to whatever his partners wanted. He also seems drawn to assholes. Nile was a perfect example.
He wandered over to where he had left a biscotti and a cup of coffee and ate the biscotti. He sipped the coffee and grimaced. It was cold.
He looked out through the big glass front doors of the hotel and watched the people pass by, paying special attention to the couples. They all looked so happy.
Two men strolled by, arm in arm, and paused outside the doors, speaking. The shorter man grinned and nodded at something the taller man said and they set off again, clinging to each other.
That's what Erwin wanted.
He looked down at his phone again. Nothing. He wished he had someone he could call. A friend or a lover. Just a voice to talk to.
Erwin texted Nile as soon as he got off. He'd hesitated and hemmed and hawed all day. He had to find out if Nile was OK.
Hey, Nile, it's Erwin. How was your day?
Erwin clocked out and put on his coat. He wandered around the break room, waiting. His phone didn't buzz. Where was Nile? Was he OK? What if something had happened?
Erwin frowned down at his phone.
Finally, he set out for home, his hand in his pocket, on his phone, so he wouldn't miss a vibration.
He caught the bus at the corner and settled into a seat, resisting checking his phone again, watching Trost Blvd go by out of the window.
The bus turned left onto Sina road and chugged over the bridge.
Erwin lived in the lower-middle-class neighborhood by the canal. He watched, as he did every night, at the neighborhood getting progressively poorer. He turned over in his mind the people he had to deal with every day and how they contrasted with his neighbors. Erwin was not ashamed of being poor. It was what it was. He stroked his phone in his pocket. Life is bearable if you have people to share it with.
The bus stop was two blocks from his apartment building and Erwin stepped out into the chilly evening, pulling his coat around himself. He had just started walking when his phone finally buzzed.
[Nile] Erwin. Hey, it's Nile, listen,
Erwin smiled and typed quickly.
Nile, thank goodness. I was worried. :) How was your day?
[Nile] How about you just lose my number, OK?
What? Lose his number? Why? What was going on? Someone bumped his shoulder and he almost dropped his phone. Erwin, ever the nice guy, responded quickly. "Sorry!"
The man hurried on as if he'd not heard. Erwin shrugged and started typing again.
Lose your number? Why?
The reply was lightning fast.
[Nile] Just lose it, Erwin. We shouldn't see each other anymore.
Erwin went cold. Nile was breaking up with him? Over text?
But Nile … can't we talk about this?
[Nile] No. We were getting boring. I might get back with my wife anyway.
Erwin was floored. Nile hadn't been with his wife in a year. He had insisted he hated her. Getting back with his wife? They were getting boring? Nile had seemed to enjoy the sex.
Was it something I did? Can't we just talk face to face?
Erwin knew this was cringy and pathetic but he couldn't help it.
[Nile] Let it go. We're over. Don't contact me again.
Erwin stood in the middle of the sidewalk, stunned and immeasurably sad. What had gone wrong? To his shame, he felt tears prickling behind his eyelids. After a moment he willed his feet to move. He needed to get home.
Levi walked to and from work to his tiny flat. It was only four blocks. In doing so, he took a shortcut through a long alley between two tall buildings. The apartment buildings on either side were old, crumbling red brick, and full of the lower class typical of the neighborhood.
These people were too busy eeking out a living and just surviving and so had very little concern for what ended up in the alley. Because of this, it was crowded with overflowing dumpsters, old broken furniture, trashcans, boxes, all the flotsam and jetsam of humanity. There were animals in there too. It wasn't unusual to see ragged cats, the occasional stray dog eating out of the trash, and plenty of rats. Once he'd seen a raccoon.
Only the rats appeared lively, hale, and healthy. Levi ignored them all, stepping gingerly through the heaps of rubbish, avoiding puddles, walking quickly.
This night, as he was making his way down in a persistent, chilly rain, he passed a spot where a weak naked lightbulb dimly lit the cracked pavement next to a door. There were cardboard boxes strewn about always but tonight something caught his eye.
It was a cat, a small black and white cat. Levi saw a lot of cats as he walked home every night; skinny, ghostly things that startled and slunk away as he walked by. He never gave them much thought except for the blanket sadness that they existed out there, alone in the world and probably hungry. There was nothing he could do, right?
This cat wasn't jerking back or even looking up as he came close. It crouched in a sodden cardboard box, dripping wet. Didn't cats hate the wet?
Levi hesitated. Was it sick? What could he do about it, anyway?
For a moment Levi just stood, undecided, then he crouched down. There was something different, pathetic about this one. It was a handsome thing, the black and white coloration striking.
"Puss, puss?"
The little cat looked wearily up at him. A raindrop dripped off of one ear. It appeared healthy, or as healthy as could be expected. Its eyes and nose were clear, there was no sign of the third eyelid that was the usual indication of sickness. No, it just seemed … tired.
Levi could relate.
Suddenly he straightened. There was nothing he could do about the cat. Call animal control, maybe? But the thought of such a beautiful creature manhandled into a truck then immediately killed upon arrival at the animal shelter made his stomach turn.
He'd leave well enough alone. He resolutely walked on, only glancing back once. The cat was looking at him.
The next day was Sunday and Levi's one day off. He puttered around, cleaned his apartment to within an inch of its life, tinkered with his bike. He was in a state of mild, continuous agitation that made him antsy. He couldn't stop thinking of his bills.
Levi spent Monday at work in a fog. He'd gone to the gym in the morning and worked the heavy bag until he was about to pass out. He didn't eat enough protein to work out like that. It hadn't helped and his muscles burned all night at work.
Connie approached him about midway through his shift. "Say, Levi. I gotta friend named Jean who's desperate for a place to stay. He can pay a deposit and first month's rent up front in cash." He slid a scrap of paper over the bar to Levi with a phone number on it.
Levi was horrified and torn. What should he do? The absolute terror of having another human in his apartment was high but he was getting desperate for money. He had paid this month's rent but he wouldn't have next month's. He needed money. He also secretly thrilled at the thought of a person in his life even if it was just a roommate. Someone to come home to, to talk to, to just sit and have tea with. He wouldn't have to touch him, would he?
He spent the entire rest of his shift mulling it over and fretting and wishing he had Farlan or Isobel to talk it over with.
He was walking home on autopilot when he entered the alleyway. His feet followed the route automatically. A large rat scuttled out in front of him suddenly, not even pausing to acknowledge him, causing Levi to quickly sidestep. As he altered his path his foot hit a box. It was mostly collapsed, soaked through, but as it moved Levi felt a weight to it. He stopped and bent down. He'd found useful stuff before in alleyways. He'd picked up his perfectly fine toaster in this very alley.
It wasn't a toaster. It was the little cat.
It had been jarred by the kick but hadn't moved, just settled back down as if too exhausted to stir. Levi crouched down.
"Little puss? You OK? What are you still doing here?"
The cat regarded him gravely.
It was very small and appeared young, just a teen-aged cat, and, as Levi looked closer, he could see its elbows and hip bones poking out sharply. Levi reached out with one gloved hand and stroked its side. Its ribs stood out like corrugation under his fingertips. The cat was starving.
He noticed something odd. Despite the little cat's boniness, it's abdomen was swollen to a huge size, bulging and firm under the rough hair. It struck him. She was a she and she was full of kittens.
Levi sat back. That's why she was just sat here. She was starving and pregnant and probably exhausted just trying to stay alive as her kittens sapped all of her remaining reserves of strength.
Levi touched her head. Her color was unusual, not uniform but irregular so that a patch of black covered one side of her face and white the other. The eye on the black side was yellowy-green but the eye on the white side was a bright blue. She tilted her chin up as Levi stroked the side of her face.
"I'm so sorry, cat. I know you're in a bad way but there's nothing I can—"
Abruptly a surprisingly strong purr erupted from the little thing and she rubbed weakly against Levi's finger.
Levi snatched his hand back, startled. He rubbed it against his jeans on instinct. The cat continued to purr but didn't move.
Levi's mind raced. There was nothing wrong with this cat. She was healthy, just starving. She didn't ask to be out here, to be pregnant. Levi thought of the kits. If she managed to have them would they even live? She couldn't produce much milk in her state.
Levi looked up and down the alley, searching his mind, searching for answers, wishing some divine insight would just come to him. It began to rain harder, pelting down, tapping on Levi's leather jacket.
The cat never moved. She just sat, resigned. Her purring had stopped.
What should he do? He couldn't just take her home, could he? Cats were nasty. They shit in the house. The thought made him shudder.
She was very small though. She wouldn't take up much room. And he was so lonely. The thought of getting to help something, to be of assistance, to be useful, overwhelmed him. And he'd have a companion.
He was strong. Fuck the OCD. He could glove up and clean her box, couldn't he?
The rat from earlier—or another, the nasty pieces of shit all looked alike to Levi—reappeared. Levi had been still too long and it was overcoming its natural caution. It stared at Levi then at the cat, sniffing. Suddenly it was joined by another. They both eyeballed the cat speculatively.
If the cat had her kittens right there, in that sodden box, the rats might attack them, kill them, eat them. Levi was suddenly overcome with anger. He shuddered.
"Not on my watch, you fuckers."
Levi stood and the rats scuttled off, squeaking. He removed his jacket, oblivious to the rain, and crouched back down. Holding the collapsing box with one hand he gently draped the coat over the cat and lifted her, wrapped in it so his hands wouldn't touch her. He guesstimated she didn't weigh much more than one of those rats.
Levi strode determinedly down the alley, the bundled cat under one arm, the rain drenching his shirt.
At his apartment he carefully set the coat down—the cat never moved—and fetched a small drawer out of one of his chests of drawers and lined it with one of his threadbare but excruciatingly clean towels. He gently dumped the cat out into it.
For a moment she just crouched and blinked as if she couldn't believe that dry and warmth and protection existed in this world. Slowly, she settled herself down, snuggling into the terrycloth. The low, throaty, quiet purr came again. Levi smiled.
"I think I'll call you Rose."
Levi went to see if he had a can of tuna.
He had a cat.
