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She carried Orangie to the neighbor's yard at 6:30 on a Monday morning. He had snuggled with her all night - having missed her for the intrusion of a visitor. She looked at him differently now.
"you innocent creature. You don't know that your food mommy and daddy are abandoning you. You're about to be an orphan."
She put Orangie down in the dark morning, and she saw his shadowy tiny body moving towards the feeding porch. It devastated her, so she used that as an excuse to cry. There were so many things to cry about.
The neighbor lady - the other single one in her 50's had a male visitor who was taking the dogs out. They both had white cars.
"Do you think you could take care of them? We could send you food from Arizona."
They had four cats. She only saw three of them as the siamese one was a loner. She imagined that - taking on the responsibility of three cats again - three cats that she didn't choose. Her heart broke for them, but she knew that her time here was limited. Her stepfather was already salivating at the housing prices and demand. Wouldn't it be great to be independently wealthy and be able to say an "of course" but if she took them on, she'd also have to move them to wherever she landed - why couldn't they.
They cited bobcats and hoped that the people that bought their house would also agree to feed four feral cats twice a day.
Orangie wasn't feral. Orangie was an innocent being who love her for some reason. She remembered this time last year when Klio had brought him over and she was reading a mystery book outside and he bravely got in her lap for five seconds. She took a picture of him and sent it to her mother "see, I'm not alone."
Since then, she'd made zero friends.
She tried about zero too.
Her windows had condensation on them for the first time this season. And she always self-mocked when she put a possessive on them. She was on borrowed time, and she wondered if she'd have the guts to kill herself when the choices all ran out.
The only hope she had on the planet was that her aunt might leave her something like $100K. Would that be enough? would it even be possible? She didn't want to look at someone like the vulture looked at the starving child.
But, she'd long given up the possibility that she could work hard and pull herself up by the bootstraps. She was now old and lost her bloom. The only thing she ever considered good was her writing anyway, and that - it would take some discipline. Her mystery novel had sort of fallen to the wayside when he wasn't there to impress anymore.
He had surprised her.
"what are you doing?"
"sitting around silently protesting the tyranny. How about you?"
"I'm thinking of coming down there. I could be there by four and couldn't stay long."
"well, what a fucking spontaneous surprise. You are most welcome."
He came. They still didn't kiss. The drinks all felt watered down, but she was glad she was wearing a skirt because the trash can fries and beer tended to not be skinny choices.
"your sister seems like the only mature one of you. At least she is."
She thought about that and realized he both didn't know her sister very well and also was impressed by money.
Narcissi was money adjacent, but the only way she would ever score any was with her charms.
Did she have any charms anymore. She had work dreams that night before waking up at 5am with a "fuck it. let's get up Orangie."
She wondered when the lay off or the return to work was going to affect her. The sword of Damocles was always over her head. She had some expense reports to do and then to announce open enrollment. Her huge brain didn't feel so huge, and she didn't even think she was funny anymore - not so much a joker.
And why did he come and see her? He still didn't initiate kissing her in public private times. He didn't kiss her on the sofa. He didn't stroke her hair. He never asked her any questions.
The maple leaves - sometimes when they fell, they twirled like ballerinas or ice skaters in pirouettes.
It didn't matter though. As she told you millions of years ago, if he gave her nothing but a comma, she would eat it like caviar.
It didn't matter, and the only reason she could even play it at all cool on the outside was because she knew it would be the only way he might stay. As her sister said though "I know how to play hard to get. Even though it kills me inside sometimes."
exactly. "you play you win, you play you lose. you play."
And narcissi thought about Florida again. For some reason, it had been a test for them - a launch. It was a time out of the norm - where neither of them knew anyone and could just be. However, if she was honest, she'd recall that time on the edge of the bed where she cried dense tears because even his foot wouldn't agree to touch her.
This time, he hadn't pulled away.
She was marking it.
always.
And the bees buzzed around the bush. Narcissi was glad it had rained yesterday - maybe it would bring good buds.
The orange cat was back from his feeding.
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