Installment 4

4

The police arrived, with an ambulance. When the door opened instinct drove me to drag my feline form down the hall to hide behind boxes in the laundry room and die.

But I didn’t.

Instead, I woke hours later, naked and in agony. One side of my face felt bruised and swolen, and there was wicked bruising over my ribs.

It was hard pulling on the sweat pants and tee shirt I stole from the box of lost laundry on the shelf. I was sweating and swearing before I managed it. I had to rest before I could stagger upstairs.

A stranger let me use his cell phone to make a call. Not much later, I was headed to the hospital, then home.

# # #

The people at work keep whispering. I’ve overheard them talking about how much I’ve changed; checking out the bruises and bandages, then speculating as to just what happened to me on my vacation. The consensus is that I had a near-death experience that turned me into a better man. Which is pretty close to the truth when you come right down to it.

I make a point of calling and checking in with Bonnie’s parents about once a week. The doctor committed her to a psychiatric institution. Her father was understandably distressed, reluctantly confiding in me that she had some “unhealthy obsessions and delusions. Something to do with you . . . and a cat.” I hope they can help her. A part of me hates her for what she did to me. But if she hadn’t, I’d never have met Amber.

I see Amber nearly every day at the store where she works. We chat about pretty much anything and everything. She’s commiserated with me about my injuries. I’ve consoled her on the loss of her cat. It took a few weeks, but I eventually worked up the courage to ask her out.

Tomorrow night Amber and have our first date. I’m taking her out for sushi. For some reason I’ve been craving raw fish. Go figure.