Page 66 of Kitten

I flung the phone to the foot of the bed, certain that if I didn’t stop now, I would read on forever. A faint thrill sat coiled in my chest. It astonished me that James and his mother could message so frequently and casually about mundane administrative details, but also about their worries, their feelings, the people animating both their lives. I had the urge to message my mother, too, but I couldn’t think of anything to say. The big things seemed small when typed out, and the small things far too big.

—

On Friday night, James returnedfrom the office smelling of beer. He put down his backpack and poured himself a glass of water from the tap while quietly I ate my microwavable mac and cheese. His portion sat untouched across from me. I imagined Silver hunched over at the end of the table, lapping fervently with drops of cheese hanging from her whiskers. It made me smile.

James set down his glass with a thump. Then he leaned in and kissed me, the pressure firm, his breath ripe and yeasty. I kissed him back, my stomach hollowing with desire. We continued until my breath hitched and James pulled away. “You still like me,” he said with a faint smile.

“Yes.” I hesitated. “Do you still likeme?”

“Yes.”

“But?”

“Things have changed, right?”

“What do you mean?” I watched his eyes move from my face to my mouth, down my body, to the space between our feet. Then he pulled me up so I was standing, our toes pointing at each other.

“For one, you don’t want to live with me anymore.”

He registered my surprise, let go of my hands.

“It’s not that I don’t want to,” I said.

“It’s fine,” James said. “And I’m not just saying that to make you feel better. It really is fine.”

“I should’ve said no when you first brought it up in Holme. I didn’t think that was an option.”

“I could tell, you know. Not then, I couldn’t, but the day after we got back.”

“How?” Was I a fool to be surprised?

“You haven’t touched that stuffed shark once.”

My throat tightened. James looked at me with a serious but not unhappy expression. I said, “I think you’re right.”

“I know I am.”

“Are you mad at me?”

“I asked myself this. I wanted to be. But I don’t think I have the right.”

I started to protest, but he continued. “No, let me explain, please. We’ve both been wrong. I don’t think I ever tried to understand what you really needed. I just wanted to make you happy.”

“It’s not about that,” I said. “You do make me happy. But I’ve made you miserable. I don’t know how…I actually don’t know how to care for people.” I paused. “I don’t think I can.”

“You can,” he said. “You start with yourself.”

Next to his water glass, a fly buzzed, then disappeared. I wondered where flies went when you couldn’t see them. If it was possible they simply vanished for a few seconds, to a waiting room full of other flies, safe and untouchable. Silver, I believed, would know where it went. She would catch it in one swipe and put it in her mouth.

“I think I understand that,” I said. “I think that’s why we can’t live together. I don’t even know if I have a real self right now. I’m sorry.”

James’s gaze shifted, maybe also following the fly as I was trying to. There it was—right in front of me, impossible to miss. Our eyes locked. “It’s okay,” he said.

I took a breath, swallowed. Something twitched in my throat. I made a choice.

“I didn’t really love you when I first said it,” I said. “I loved being with you. But I love you now, I do. And that’s why I think I need to be on my own. Can you forgive me for that?

Without any hesitation, James said, “I already have.”