26. Dalton
26
DALTON
I read Nadia’s texts around midnight with a feeling of doom.
So, it’s happened.
Damn.
She sent an image of the notice on the door.
We’re screwed. We only have two days.
She’s probably asleep by now, but I write her back, anyway.
This sucks. We’ll figure something out.
But will we?
Finding that place had been hard enough. How could we get another?
I will have to try.
Fitz bumps my shoulder as she sits beside me in the break room. “What’s got you so long in the face?”
“Cat kids got busted. We have to find them a home or move out.”
Harrington takes a chair opposite me. “Your girl won’t let those cats go.”
“I don’t want them to go either. And where would we take them? The shelters are full. The rescues are full.”
Fitz shakes her head. “People need to neuter their animals.”
“They were strays.”
“They came from somewhere.” She shoves a fork into her plastic bowl filled with pasta.
I unwrap a sandwich. “You two wouldn’t have spots, would you?”
“My roommates would murder me in my sleep,” Fitz says, using her fork as a pretend knife slashing her throat. “Manny petted a neighbor’s cat, and Veronica made him wash his hands for thirty minutes before he could touch her stuff. She has a thing about dander.”
I nod. “Nadia’s cousin is allergic.”
“I can’t keep a plant alive,” Harrington says. “And I’m pretty sure my place doesn’t allow pets at all.”
I sit back in my chair. “We’re up a creek.”
Fitz stabs a noodle. “Sounds like it.”
The night goes slowly. Monday nights often do. I see a UTI, two chest pain cases, and a dehydrated pregnant woman.
When I get off around seven, for the first time in a long time, I dread going home.
I pull in next to Nadia’s blue jeep. I open my glove compartment. I got another duck for her, this time a pink one. I’m not sure it will make a dent in cheering her up.
When I’ve set it on her door handle so she’ll be sure to notice it, per the rules of DuckDuckJeep, I steel myself and head to our apartment.
Our apartment. Those words have taken on a new meaning since we’ve been together as a couple rather than roommates. I assume we’ll move together, even though in any other circumstance it would be madness to cohabitate after only a few weeks of getting romantically involved.
Is it madness? Should we separate and date normally?
Who would get the cats?
Her, obviously. My shifts are too long.
I open the front door carefully to make sure no cats escape.
Nadia is up, sitting cross-legged on the floor for the kittens to climb like a jungle gym.
“Hey,” I say, setting my phone and keys on the bar. “How are you holding up?”
Her face crumples, and I can see by the red rims of her eyes that she’s been crying.
I sit next to her. Ferris Mewler immediately leaps from her to me in a flash of white. “That bad, huh?”
She leans over, resting her head on my shoulder. “What are we going to do?”
“I have twenty-four off. Let’s look for a new place.” I guess that decision was already made in my head, madness or not.
Her head pops up. “You think so?”
“Maybe we have to look farther afield. Maybe we’ll get lucky.”
She moves the other three kittens to my lap and hops to her feet. “I’ll get a notepad. We can figure out a budget, then start looking. Maybe there’s something off the beaten path. Maybe someone has a garage apartment, or a tiny home. You know, not part of a corporate complex with strict rules.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
She sits at the bar, an open notepad in front of her. “We could easily afford this place together. Do you think we could go up four hundred?”
“I think so.” Although that’s less to send to my mother. She’d been able to quit her previous crappy job and spend a couple of weeks looking for the next one with my help. Hopefully, she’ll last at this new one for more than a few months.
“Of course, the cats are an expense. They will all need shots soon. And vet appointments aren’t cheap. I wonder if it’s one fee for all of them. Surely it is. I don’t think they charged me extra when I brought them all in.”
I hadn’t thought about all that. I remember what Fitz said. “They’ll all need neutering soon.”
Nadia frowns. “Oh, that’s going to be expensive. I’ll call around and see who might give us a deal on all four.”
I pick Greyson off my shoulder where his claws are digging in. “Mama needs neutering too. She’s probably getting well enough.”
“Five surgeries,” Nadia mutters, scribbling numbers on the pad. “Maybe I can plead with one of the rescues to help with the cost. They usually get lower rates with veterinarians who work with them.”
Pumpkin leaps onto Greyson’s back, making him hiss. I let them tussle. Kittens learn a lot through play.
Nadia holds her head in her hands. “I’m going to have to get a proper job to support the cats.” She drops the pen. “I don’t want to run any more numbers.”
She leaves the stool to sit down beside us like before. “I wish I could play with them and pretend we don’t have any worries.”
I spot the notice folded up near the sofa and lean over to pick it up. “Do you think they’ll kick us out on the 16th or that’s just when they tell us?”
“I don’t know.” Her voice is tear-filled. “They’ll have to let us pack.”
“We’re going to lose the deposit.”
“I’ll scrape up another one.”
I’ll have to scrape, too. I lie back on the carpet and stare at the ceiling. I don’t begrudge Nadia for saving the kittens, not in the least. But they sure have made our situation much more complicated.