I felt something cozy against my blanketed body— probably some feline creature, just like I felt the last three or four times I was there. It didn’t feel like Bagheera. No, he’s much more tougher than that. Leader of the pride. It wasn’t his fraternal brother Will, because he carries too much fat in his furry breast, and certainly not Peaches, who carries fat even in places you never knew existed. Carmello, he doesn’t know me well enough, who knows if he ever will (if he would just give me a chance!), and Carlton is probably too busy trying to get the hell outta there to spend time on the ol’ couch— if only he knew what it was that he had there. Henry’s tongue is covered by bristles of pinecones, and for that reason alone he licks everything in sight, praying for those bristles to fall off— no, it was not him.
But what of Belle?
I would like to think myself modest and claim that I would never be worthy of Belle. She is, without second guess, the most beautiful girl in all this kingdom— small, of course, and white, which isn’t surprising (for me). But she is more. She has patches— gorgeous, sporadic orange-and-black patches — that grace her elegant frame. No, Belle would never wake me! She’s too good even for the others; she hides. All day, in the closet. Immersing herself in clean laundry never to be worn; she probably sleeps. She’s an elusive beauty, Belle. And yet, it felt like it could be her!
Restless with curiosity, my lids began blinking furiously, until they lifted for good. I did not dare to look down, right away. I resisted the dry n golden rays with one of my hands (seeing as the other one was being trapped ‘neath someone or something). I forgot to breathe, an often, so an invisible vacuum cleaner was stuck down my throat, an cleared my lungs n heart of unnecessary debris that sleep may have brought. The coffee table was cluttered, with stacks of books and coasters and ashtrays nearly completely full. And beer bottles. Not mine. I looked over to the wall— the wall brimming with every movie imaginable, every band worth listening to, every TV show we could just watch over and over again. I love that wall. I love that wall much more than the driveway, which I now watched with an unsurprising look of mild disappointment. That hot, empty driveway. I much preffered looking at the wall.
Or Belle.
(I looked down boldly, then, to see my anonymous nighttime snuggler.)
Or you!
How stupid the mountain air has made me! It must be the altitude; in my sleepy stupor, I had forgotten the wonderful fantasy I was living. Yes, I was in West Country; yes, we were there, together— with nothing to do and nowhere to be. Yes, this was life! Your tranquil, white face looked up at me, as I grinned stupidly.
It was a silent morning.
You stretched and pawed at my tummy, while I laid there, remembering the summer before (an you were in me but not with me) and the summer before that (probably the same, I bet). An for a second I started wondering out loud where we could go from here, but I was rudely interrupted— you licked my cheek, and gave a small smile, so where did I go from there? Off the couch, the makeshift bed we had been sharing, shuffling into the bright kitchen. Reaching into the (nearly) empty refrigerator, an instinctively grabbing a glass jug (nearly) empty, I call out to you. No reply. I shrug: it’s the summer, for god’s sake, so I pour the dry n golden liquid into two glasses. I walk back into the room, an see you sprawled out on the floor— as if the hairy carpet was heated, melting your insides, just like your tile floor back at home. You probably miss your floor… tired, poor thing, I mutter. You look up lifelessly at my offer for a drink. In fear of dehydration, I put the lemonade to your lips, and you drink unwillingly, using your tongue to taste the sweet and sour drink. I lift you up, off the ground, an we sit (together), listening to the distant sound of birds. I stroke your hair, telling you all about the strange and wonderful dream I had the night before. The dream went as such:
“yeah so I was in some park, probably Yellowstone or something, and there was this giant geyser there. It didn’t seem Old and no one knew for sure how Faithful it was, so I dunno. Anyway. It wasn’t doing anything. So I stood there, for like 6 months, just waiting for that baby to blow. But nothing was happening, and I was starting to get kinda restless, so I went up to it, and looked down that hole. Eternal darkness. And I think I lost my footing, or maybe someone pushed me, and I went and fell in. So I was falling… falling… and you know what? I think it would’ve finally blown. I think it was gonna release those hundreds of gallons of water, and there’s no way I would’ve hit the ground. I would’ve been pushed up, and up, and into the blue sky, and I would have been just fine, floating on the mist until someone catches me.”
You woke me up, though. So we’ll never know whether or not it’ll blow.
As if you understood this, you nuzzled me with silent affection.
I couldn’t help but kiss you. It felt so right.
Then I heard the car pull into the driveway; I heard his footsteps on the sweltering gravel, until finally he came through the door. He looked tired.
“Hey, dad. How was work?”
I looked down. Sitting next to me was Belle, curled up in my lap,
so beautiful and silent.
So I sat there, listening to my dad talk about work an other things,
while I tried to ignore all the hard things,
like cat hair and dry n golden tears and you.
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