Three Meows (Monsters For Her)

Chapter Five

A cat was stalking me.

No, really. I was sure the sleek black cat was following me every time I returned home after dark. Sometimes, I stayed out late to go to a club or a bar with my yearmates but on Thursdays it was because of the Animation Appreciation (or AA for short, yes, we loved this joke) Club where we watched and discussed various forms of bringing drawings, 3D models, photographed dolls, and so on, to life.

It was on the first Thursday when I noticed the shadowy shape stalking me and since then it has been my constant nightly companion. Catching a glimpse of yellow eyes peering at me from the darkness sent shivers down my spine, but I reminded myself firmly it was a cute kitty that was interested in me and not some sort of monster.

One evening I arrived armed.

“Here kitty, kitty. Pspsps,” I tried, waving a tuna cat treat in the direction of the black shape judging me from the roof of a house. The fishy scent wafted in the direction of the cat, but it remained impassive. Damn. Impervious to pspsps and to cat treats? Maybe it was, in fact, a monster. No normal cat could resist this.

My various attempts to entice the animal with toys, food, or just by sitting on a bench in a park and waiting patiently for it to come to me ended in crushing failure. Was I losing my charm? I thought of myself as a cat whisperer, but this blackie was set on proving me wrong.

It was when I resigned myself to just catching glimpses of my companion when the situation changed.

“Give me your phone,” a rough voice said behind me.

When I turned around, I caught a glimpse of a knife. The man wore a blank expression, as if this was a normal thing for him to do. To rob people. To steal their phones. To point a knife at someone.

The thing was, I had enough money to buy a new phone. I could give it to him.

But this sort of man, someone with a hand so steady on a knife, who didn’t even know what kind of phone I had and if it was worth anything but knew I looked pretty…

A man like that rarely stopped at a phone.

My eyes darted around, searching for help, but there was no one there in the shadowed corner of the park. There was only the black cat watching me from a nearby tree— Wait, no, the cat wasn’t there anymore.

I watched in stunned awe as a black shape launched itself at the robber.

“Get off me!” the man yelled as the cat dug furrows in his face with his claws. He had dropped the knife in his surprise and was using both hands to take hold of his vicious attacker.

He threw the cat away. It flipped in the air and landed on four paws. Seeing how the cat hissed and prepared to jump again the robber ran away with a yelp, as if the hounds of hell were nipping at his heels.

“You saved me,” I said to the cat, who was still looking in the direction of where the man disappeared, his short fur all puffed up. “Thank you.”

The cat calmed down slowly and stopped making that low rumbling, threatening noise. He looked back at me and flicked his tail as if he was magnanimously accepting my thanks. Then he slinked right next to me.

I held my breath, my hands frozen at my sides, as the cat circled around me as if inspecting me for any damage. This was the closest he ever got to me. I didn’t want to jeopardize it by trying to touch him and scare him away.

Satisfied with his inspection, the black cat returned to watching me from afar. He kept watch as I made my way to a convenience store I knew would be open at this hour to call the police to report the attempted robbery and have them collect the knife from the park.

By the time I made it home, I was pretty tired. I flopped onto the couch and eyed my kitchen with a frown. I should eat something. But preparing dinner sounded like too much effort. Before I could make my decision, there was a knock on the door. Well, that got me to my feet.

I blinked in surprise when I found Rowan at my door. Wordlessly, he pushed a plastic container with cookies at me.

“For me?” I asked.

“Mn,” the man made a confirming noise.

“Aw, that’s so nice of you! Did you make them yourself?” Rowan nodded and cooked his head to the side.

“Do you want to come in?” I asked, holding my breath.

When the mysterious man took a step forward, I had to stop myself from pumping my fist as I scrambled away to let him in.

First the black cat and now this? Was this the day when my milkshake brings all the loner boys to my yard? Heck yeah!

“Want some tea? Or coffee? Well, probably not coffee, it’s too late for that…”

“Coffee,” Rowan said.

Ah, so he could speak. I had been wondering if I should invest some time in learning sign language in case he was mute. Actually, it was still a good idea, so I made a mental note to study the basics anyway. It was pretty obvious speaking wasn’t Rowan’s favorite thing.

Fortunately, I could carry the conversation as we sat down with our beverages and cookies myself, with the help of Rowan’s silent input. Those eyebrows were very expressive and contained a multitude of opinions.

I learned he preferred newer whodunnit style books over classics like Agatha Christie, that my taste in hot chocolate was wrong (apparently nothing made with water qualified as hot chocolate in his opinion), that he was a night owl, and a myriad of other small facts.

In short, I was putting together who one Rowan was piece by piece, like a puzzle, and, even if I didn’t have the complete picture yet, the glimpses I could see were fascinating.

“Chester mentioned you are working nights, right?” I asked, realizing we had spent over an hour in each other’s company. “Do you have to go soon?”

He nodded reluctantly and took a big gulp out of the delicate cup I served him coffee in before he placed it gingerly back down. The cup was empty. I guess it was time to say goodbyes for today.

“Be careful tonight,” I blurted out. He looked at me, suddenly alert. “I, ah, ran into some trouble when coming home through the park, so better avoid that area and keep your eyes open.”

“Mn,” he agreed. Then he pulled a small block of paper and a pen out of his pocket and quickly wrote something down before handing it over.

It was a phone number.

“Call. If trouble,” Rowan said, staring me down. That look was intense.

This time I was the one to nod silently.

Satisfied, the black-haired man stood up and made for the door.

He left as unceremoniously as he appeared. Really, he was like a cat, coming and going as he pleased. It was endearing.

I flattened the piece of paper on the table, a smile blooming on my face.