Aika - Not A Crazy Cat Lady

The cats were gone. All of them. Not one fuzzy traitor in sight. I crawled, climbed, hopped and looked through any crevice they usually slept in. I crouched behind the café, shaking a packet of food furiously like I was summoning spirits.

‘Guys…? Hello? Breakfast time? Please?’

Absolute crickets. No cute paws. No meows. No tiny, judgmental eyes. I stood there frozen in internal panic.

Cats don’t just vanish, unless someone hurt them or took them away. They were creatures of habit. Humanity, but smaller and furrier. Something is wrong.

I went further. I checked the alley. I checked the bins. I checked under the delivery truck where Bingo, the orange gremlin, usually slept like a drunk uncle. Nothing. By the time my shift started, my stomach was a knot of dread.

I wiped tables too fast. Mixed up an order. Dropped a fork. Gave the wrong amount of change. Forgot to dry the dishes. Miho-san noticed eventually.

‘Aika-chan, sweetheart, you’re pale. What’s wrong?’ she asked.

I hesitated, it was not like me to complain, but worry cracked me open.

‘The cats,’ I whispered. ‘The strays I feed, they didn’t come today.’

‘Ohhh!’ Miho brightened. ‘I saw some cats over by the church earlier. Maybe your friends wandered there.’

My heart leapt, fell, then leapt again. The cats were fine, yey. They were where? Oh no. But that’s the safest place they can be, at least.

The church. Exactly where I didn’t want to be. Not in the demonic sense. I was already reading the Bible here and there, so I couldn’t be that bad. But I didn’t want to honor much more friendship points to Caleb.

‘Are you sure?’ I followed up.

‘Yes, yes. A whole group. I thought the priests and the cats were multiplying.’

‘I… sorry?’ I was so confused.

Miho mirrored my expression to show me how I looked like. She had a strange humor sometimes, but it was something you get used to. At least, it gave me some relief.

Work dragged painfully slow. The second my shift ended, I was out of there. With Miho’s blessing, I grabbed the meaty leftovers from the cafe and hurried toward the church.

Maybe they were there indeed. But I do remember the much older priests preferring dogs. Maybe they were safe and being fed by the younger new ones?

The sun was setting, painting the sky in orange and lavender. The church stood quietly on a little hill, white and gentle, like a watercolor painting no one bothered framing. I crept around the side with my heart pounding up my throat.

No cats. None. Just grass and silence. A terrible tightness squeezed my chest.

What if they were gone forever? Strays taken away and put down like they do on bigger cities. What if… Then I heard a low, warm voice. Someone was singing softly. I followed it without thinking.

Around the corner, under the old church tree, are all my cats. All gathered in a circle like furry disciples, staring worshipfully at …. Caleb.

Of course. Of course it’s him. Thank goodness it’s him. But the same time, how can I reclaim the cats now?

He sat on a worn bench, guitar in hand, eyes half-closed as he sang a melody on repeat. Not the whole song. Just a few lines. Over and over.

Wow. He looks like an overgrown version of Cupid… With his long-ish curly blonde-y brown-y hair. 

His voice sounded smooth, pure, effortless. His song wasn’t performance perfect, nor was it showy. It was natural and honest. A real worship song. I hated it. Well, no. Not hated it. I hated that I liked it. As a former idol, I knew good voices. I had a general feel of if a song would do well. This one was good.

‘Stop,’ I whispered to myself. ‘Don’t listen. Don’t like it.’ 

But I did like it. His voice made my chest feel warm and heavy in a dangerous way. It made the air around him glow, making the whole world lean in to listen.

Despite how good looking he was, the fact the he stopped singing at one part over and over for the best part of five minutes now, made my eye twitch. 

He kept messing up the same part of the melody. He’d sing the verse, lovely. Sing the bridge, perfect. Then the chorus came. And he couldn’t get through the last part. Every time.

‘Why like that?’ I muttered under my breath. ‘Don’t go down on that note. It’s too abrupt. Modulate up. Or lengthen the vowel. Or change the progression. Anything. Please.’

He tried and failed again. I was starting already annoyed. Because he wasn’t fixing the obvious. And, I could fix the obvious.

I could write the entire chorus for him in five minutes. Less, if I wasn’t flustered by his stupid face and stupid voice and stupid warmth. I backed off slowly, before I could come in the scene swinging.

If I talked to him again, I’d combust. Or worst. He’d think I wanted to be friends. Absolutely not.

Before leaving, I placed the bread box at the base of the bench where he’d definitely see it. I also scribbled a small note to go with it.

Feed the cats. You’re their new boss now. Also, your chorus keeps dipping when it needs to lift. Try this instead.

I wrote a short line of melody notation. Something simple and clear for a simpleton to understand. Hoepfully perfect enough for his tone. 

I left it under the bread. No signature or name. No hint it was me. I turned away slowly and walked home before the warmth of his voice could sink any deeper into my skin.

At home, with my books scattered around me, I tried to settle back into quiet. I pulled out the water-damaged Bible I found and pressed the pages flat. I then arranged the novels I rescued. I alphabetized then rearranged them by color. Unnecessary but I stacked them by emotional damage levels in the end.

Anything to distract myself really. Anything to forget the way his voice wrapped around the air like soft gold, just perfectly matching the golden sunset hour. He really looked and sounded beautiful. Anything to pretend I didn’t want to hear him try that chorus again, this time with my touch.