The weather became colder. I watched in concern as Mr. Fischer's horse grew weaker, but Katja's ministering hands seemed to keep the beast alive and working. She really was good with animals. The dog, too, was becoming well trained. I was also pleased to see the animal's protective instincts. The incident over the summer had caused him to stick close to Katja and to be suspicious of anyone he didn't know who came near her. He was almost a year old now, and sixty pounds of furry energy and fluff and play—around me. The first time Squish came by, though, he nearly lost an arm when he came up too close to the carriage where Katja was working. I was glad to see it, even if it did take awhile to calm the beast that day—and Squish, for that matter. It was funny to see such a big guy so cowed by a dog that really was sweet most of the time.
Katja and I had grown closer, but I saw nothing progressing on a romantic front. It was frustrating. I needed a distraction. It wasn't hard to find. The boys were always getting to know some of the factory girls around, and for some reason they all wanted a piece of me. I have always been able to charm girls, but that fall I turned it into an art form. I made it a game to see how many ways I could attract a girl and how far I could push one before she'd get irritated or frustrated by me. I have to say that the entertainment enhanced my understanding of women and my reputation, even if I did make it a point never to deliberately hurt a girl seriously. I also never took them to bed, though my boys didn't know that. Mostly I just let them down. When things got to be too much I would go visit Minnie or maybe one of the other girls at Ms. Mina's in Manhattan—usually Emma or Pearl. Emma was a strong gal, and I liked that in her. Those girls were tough, and there were never any games with them; everything was purely professionals. I appreciated that. I could be friends with them when I wasn't paying them, unlike the endless string of factory girls the boys brought around.
All of that was great, but I was becoming increasingly aware that it was a sham; none of these girls could replace the one I actually wanted. Katja. I was really falling for her, and she was as oblivious as ever. Her absolute goodness in spite of anything she saw, her steadfast faith that everyone was good, and her insistence that all people deserved her very best were intoxicating. Nobody smiled as sweetly as she did. Nobody took genuine delight in a happy moment or a minor achievement the way she did. I couldn't be cynical around her; she wouldn't let me. It drove me crazy, but I wouldn't have it any other way. She just brought out the best in me, and she was the only girl with whom I felt that I was not worthy of her attention. Yet she gave it so willingly; she seemed to enjoy spending time with me, even if that's as far as it went. I wondered what it would be like to be her first kiss . . . or her first . . . okay, don't go down that road. She was not even sixteen and barely even aware that boys existed at all.
Actually, that wasn't true. Over the course of the fall I saw her change. She was probably not quite aware of it herself, but I sensed it. She was maturing. But did she have romantic feelings for me? I doubted it. No, she wasn't ready yet. But almost.