The Wright Way

Chapter 41 - The Wright Way

"Hello?" I say, stepping into the apartment.

"Hi," comes from the kitchen. "I thought you'd be later today."

I kick off my shoes and walk into the living room. The warm air is filled with cooking smells. The late afternoon light makes its way through the half transparent curtains—he picked simple green once this this time, no Fireman Sam or any other cartoon characters. The sofa seems to have one cushion more than it did in the morning.

"Went shopping?"

"Yeah, on my way back from the studio." He appears in the door, a wooden spatula in his hand, wearing an apron with the words 'Good Looking and Cooking' on it. "We have finished the demo, will now start sending it around. The guys are so excited." He grins at me. "So am I."

I force a weak smile. I'm glad he continues to pursue his ambitions in music, yet every time he mentions his 'guys', I wince inwardly. I've met his new band and they seemed all right, yet him hanging out all day long with people who are not—well, me—is hard to get used to.

"What is it?" he says, watching me. "Jealous again?"

"It's nothing," I say. "It's just that we are supposed to keep a low profile and you are seeking a career in entertainment. You might even get on TV one day."

"Oh boy, I sure hope I'll get there, that's the whole point—but haven't we been through this before? Nobody will recognize me. You've been on display during the trial, not I. And by the way, your working in exactly the same field as before is not much of a camouflage, either."

"I like being a firefighter."

"Yeah." He comes closer. "I know. And I like to sing, so just suffer in silence." He sniffles at my hair. "No smell of smoke—have you been lazing about all day?" His cheek brushes again mine, and then our lips meet. There's a bit of onion smell on his breath, but I don't mind. My body comes to life, awakened by his proximity, but I can't quite embrace him with my hands full.

"What is this?" He pulls away and looks down at the cardboard beer box I'm holding pressed to my side. "Are we celebrating something?"

"Perhaps," I say. "Depends on your reaction."

I carefully lower the box to the floor under his suspicious gaze. Once it's open, I straighten up and step back. He looks into it and then his hands fly up, hugging the spatula to his chest.

The gray kitten stretches inside the box, then looks up, estimating if the box's sides are low enough for it to jump out.

"Oh my gosh," says Joshua. The spatula drops to the floor and the kitten gets raised from the box. Joshua looks it over, then shifts his stunned gaze to me. "Ethan? Do explain."

"Rescued this guy from a tree today. I don't know what's this thing between cats and trees, but they just keep getting stuck there, and this one clearly had no place to go, so..." I shrug. "You once said that you wanted to get a cat when you have a stable home." I gesture around. "Is this stable enough?"

He nods slowly, then looks down at the kitten who tries weakly but insistently to wriggle out of his embrace.

"Oh, who's a pretty kitten? You're a pretty kitten." He holds it in front of his face, examining it from all sides. "It's a girl, by the way," he throws at me in his normal voice before switching back to cat-talk. "Who's going to eat tuna? Who is going to be fat and beautiful? Who's going to have a belly full of good stuff?"

"Me, hopefully," I say, and then sniff at the air, suddenly aware that the smells from the kitchen are getting less appetizing. "Josh, I think something is burning."

"And who the fuck cares?" he coos at the cat. "Let's get you something to eat." He turns around and heads to the kitchen. "You're gonna have a bowl of your own. I'll get you a cute one. An orthopedic one, right?"

"Hey," I say. "Am I invited?"

He turns by the kitchen door and looks at me. The kitten in his hands turns to look, too, and it suddenly strikes me that perhaps it's not the guys in Joshua's band that I should be jealous of from now on.

Then, he smiles and nods. "Of course, you can," he says. "I mean, you have found Patricia, so you deserve a reward."

"Oh, she's Patricia already? I thought we'd pick a name together."

He shrugs. "You can pick the second name if you want, but the first one is most obviously Patricia—I mean, just look at this furry face!" Then his eyes get serious, although his lips are still smiling. "Thank you, Ethan. She's adorable."

"You're welcome," I say. "I kinda liked her myself. Not as much as you did, obviously."

"Of course, I did. I mean, you're clearly my number two from now on, you know that, right?"

"I'll take that, as long as number one is not another man."

He chuckles. "That's a deal. Are you coming?"

He nods invitingly, and I follow him and Patricia into the kitchen filled by the smells of our burned supper.

*** T H E   E N D ***

***** Read on for a short afterword! *****