Page 24 of Rebound
I have no loyalty for that man.
My apartment is quiet when I unlock the door and I’m immediately suspicious. I live alone, if you don’t count my three cats and they’re rarely quiet. Just as I think of them, Salem chirps from the black leather chair he’s disappeared into.
Owning three black cats and all black furniture is a constant game of ‘is this a pillow or cushion or am I about to sit on my cat?’
“Where are your sisters?”
I drop my gear by the door and walk over to the chair to pick up Salem. I cradle him in my arms and give him much deserved chin scritches.
Buffy and Sabrina are curled into circles on my bed, fast asleep. I always leave the blinds open, so they get plenty of sunlight throughout the day.
“Hello, hello!”
Salem jumps from my arms, rushing out of my room as I follow him.
“Hey, Kita.”
My sixty-year-old neighbor is crouching down on my living room floor, scratching Salem’s belly. He’s flat on his back, his tongue lolling out of his mouth.
“There he is, my precious angel. Yes, you are. I love you so much. Yes, I do.” She’s obviously talking to the cat.
“How was practice?” This she directs at me as she stands up.
I move to the kitchen, turning on the coffee maker. “It was fine.”
“Are those boys being nice to you?”
Kita’s one of those people it’s really hard to be mean to, and it has very little to do with her age. She’s nice, and she loves my cats, and they love her. Being rude to her makes me feel like an ass. It took her zero point five seconds after I moved in to tell me we’re going to be friends.
It’s strange to have someone take an interest in my life. I keep a distance from everyone for a reason.
“Practice was fine.” I hesitate. “My coach thinks I need to put more of an effort into making friends.”
“Is he wrong?”
Why am I talking to her about this? Oh, right, because it’s better than being lonely. “I don’t know. Maybe.”
Kita’s eyebrows go up, and her brown eyes look at me like she knows I can do better than that.
“Yes, he’s right. But I don’t do that. What’s the point when I’m going to be traded next season?” I say.
“I’m going to ignore that comment because we’re friends,” Kita replies.
The kitchen fills with the scent of coffee and I turn to grab two cups out of the cupboard. I fill the cups and doctor Kita’s coffee as she takes it before sliding it across the counter to her.
“It’s decaf,” I say. “And we’re friends because you don’t take no for an answer, and I don’t think me being in another state is going to stop you from demanding I send you updates on the cats.”
“That is true, I need updates on my babies. I let them live with you because your apartment is bigger than mine.”
Of course. I got the cats after I moved to Boston, and only because a family in the building was moving out and couldn’t take them. My intention was to give them away, but one week turned into two, two into three, and I found myself a proud cat father.
I have to admit, I like the thought of having someone waiting for me. Having Kita means I always have someone who can cat sit and Kita is more than happy to do it.
“Have you ever considered if you make friends with your teammates, it’’ll help you play better and you won’t be traded? They’ll always have your back.”
I sip my coffee. “I wouldn’t even know where to start.”
I’m not like Kita. I can’t show up at my teammates' apartments and demand to be friends. I’ve alienated myself so much there’s no coming back from it.
