Chapter 5 Unexpected Purrings #2
“Your sense of humor is not appreciated,” she said with a delicate sniff. “It would be nice if you took these things seriously.” She glanced at his busy hands in disdain. “If nothing else, you could at least put down your knitting.”
“I’ll take it under advisement,” he said blandly. “Did you have anything else you needed, Paula?”
She glared at him. “I’ll be talking to the principal about this,” she warned.
“Oh no, no, not the principal,” he said flatly.
“Paula, there are kids in my morning class afraid to come to school because they cut off bus service. Three-quarters of my students won’t eat if the proposed cuts to SNAP funding go through.
My God, don’t we have better things to worry about than a cat? ”
And then he saw it—the thing that made him only dislike Paula and not loathe her entirely.
The stricken expression that told him she was fixating on the cat because fixating on anything else was an exercise in futility.
“But the cat I can control!” she burst out, her voice wavering. “I don’t want to see his… his body in the parking lot because he got hit!” and he took pity on her.
“I know,” he said. “That’s why I’m taking him to the vet and taking him home. Now that you know that, can you maybe get off my case?”
The grateful, limpid look she gave him made him almost forgive her for all the sniffing, superior things she said in the staff room. “Really?”
Isaac glanced over at Marcelle, who sighed and stood up.
Euclid regarded them through half-closed eyes and purred.
“Roxy got me the crate during lunch. He wandered in and….”
“Kitty…,” she said wistfully.
“Yeah,” he said. “Kitty. I promise, he’s getting de-flead, fixed, and, if he’ll have me, homed. I understand this is how the cat distribution system works.”
And then Paula, who was in her mid-forties and groomed like a cartoon character, with stiffly sprayed hair and granny spectacles, gave him a smile that made her seem… young.
“It’s already given me four,” she said with a little hiccup. “I can’t have another one or they’ll evict me.”
“Do you want to go pet him?” Isaac asked. “He’s stoned stupid, but—”
But she was already booty bumping Marcelle out of the way to rub Euclid’s whiskers. Goddammit. Isaac might really have to knit her a sweater. She was, what? A size 2? It would take him two weeks.
SO IT was an unexpected development in the day, and the vet’s office gave him a blessed, blessed discount for a rescue cat.
When the super-extra-super-young technician at the reception desk sounded out the name (Yuuuuukllllit?), he corrected her gently, telling her, “He was the father of modern geometry.”
“Oh,” said the girl. “I should remember that—I like math.” She was Black but had dyed her hair white-blond and styled it to swirl in straight flyaway bangs, and Isaac had worn a Bieber for a while (Todd had been so embarrassed) and knew the combination of vanity and determination it took to get even mildly curly hair to do things it wasn’t designed to do, and was impressed.
He felt like Euclid was in good hands, whether or not she could pronounce his name.
“I teach it,” Isaac said apologetically. He and Roxy had enjoyed long, bitter discussions about why that shouldn’t make them the most boring humans on planet earth but somehow did.
“Math teachers are the greatest,” she said with a smile. “We’ll make sure Mr. Yuclit here is treated right.”
Isaac gave the cat one last look through the slats in the plastic crate, and Euclid blinked still-sleepy eyes at him. “Alrighty, Mr. Yuclit,” he murmured. “You and me, we got a date at eight—don’t be late.”
He glanced at the girl again. “He’s had a lot of catnip,” he admitted.
Her laugh tinkled. “Also, he’s an orange boi,” she said, and he heard the i in boi. “You understand, they’re sort of dumber than the average cat. They share three communal brain cells—you never know when your boy’s going to be using one or when they’re all out on loan.”
Isaac laughed, delighted, and decided he had to remember to tell his class that. “He wandered into my classroom when I was grading papers,” he said softly, “and proceeded to eat my lunch. I think he’s got just enough brain cells.”
Euclid purred back, and Isaac left him reluctantly.
It wasn’t until he got home and prepared a casserole to bake for an hour that he realized that the visit—and the return to pick up the cat—would put his entire evening with Luca out of whack.
Once the casserole was in the oven, he went outside to see if Luca was working on his grandparents’ place yet. What he saw was the man sitting in his truck—some sort of big, battered extra-cab wide-bed affair—with the windows down and his head tilted back, the wind ruffling his hair as he napped.
For a moment, Isaac was completely arrested.
God, he was handsome. High cheekbones, strong chin, a plush mouth still meant for smiling, and the Italian complexion that tanned so nicely, along with the toffee-colored hair.
“Dumb and hung” he’d called himself, but he was more than that.
He was funny, he was kind, he was… well, game to try, even if he wasn’t great at yarn work yet.
Maybe ever. But Isaac was starting not to care.
Frankly, he’d make thousands of little squares in hundreds of colors and sew them all together in whatever configuration Luca asked him to, just for his quiet companionship when they were working on their projects in the early evening.
You could probably kiss him, and he wouldn’t object, taunted a little voice in his head, but Isaac thought of the way they’d met and of the hated brown yarn and how he still couldn’t get himself to wind it into balls and give it to an upcycling place, or repurpose it for charity or…
or anything. Nope, it sat there, this tangled mess of anger at Todd, at himself, at his inability to change things before Todd had dropped dead of a brain aneurism because he’d been too goddamned self-sufficient to take his high blood pressure medication.
Yeah. He should probably let go of some of that before he made room for a Luca in his heart.
But that didn’t mean he didn’t want to still have him in his life, on his porch—hell, in his kitchen, eating his food.
Isaac had complained about the time it took to cook all those super gourmet dinners, and Todd had insisted on buying those gourmet single-serving dinner things from a service six days a week.
That way they could have a nutritionally balanced, constantly revolving array of prepared food that Todd didn’t have to worry about.
Isaac liked worrying about food, but cooking for one was depressing, and the one time he’d tried it, Todd had refused to even eat with him, since they were eating different things.
And this casserole—which consisted mainly of chicken, mayonnaise, and pimentos—was one of his favorites. Luca worked so hard all week, and he’d been so worried about his sister. Isaac had looked forward to sending some of it home so neither of them had to cook.
He watched as Luca startled in the front of his truck, yawned, and sat up, glancing around a little wildly before he oriented himself. He swung his eyes to where Isaac stood on his porch and gave a half-embarrassed smile before waving.
“Come on in,” Isaac called.
Luca yawned again as he got out of the truck and tried to talk. He finally managed as he came even with Isaac’s little gate through his front yard. “I was going to—” Yawn. “—try to get some work done.”
Isaac gave him a sympathetic nod. “Your nonna wouldn’t be happy about you getting hurt if you were so tired you slept in your truck. Besides, I’m going to have to leave early tonight, so you might as well get your crocheting in now.”
Luca grimaced, quite apologetic. “My sister stole it,” he muttered, letting himself into the gate.
“Your sister what?” Isaac asked, surprised.
“I was working on it last night, and my sister came in and said, ‘Wait a minute, I’ve seen Nonna do this,’ and the next thing I know, she was making her own scarf.
I was going to take it back, but she was working on it during lunch, and it made her happy.
” He let out a sigh. “I may have to steal some more of your yarn.”
Isaac shook his head. “I’m telling you,” he said, “this is the weirdest day. But okay. Fine. Bring your sister over tomorrow and we can all do yarn. It’ll be fun.”
Luca’s grin told him that, against all odds, he really did think that was fun. “You think? I mean, I still wanted to help with the blanket—”
Isaac shook his head. “Listen, you may not know this, but your blanket has helped five more kids pass my class. They’re willing to do math and algebra like you can’t believe to figure out how many squares we need to make for their designs.
And wait until you see what their designs are.
I will make your sister all of the blankets if these kids can do this actually relevant extra-credit project and show me they’ve mastered equations. ”
Luca’s grin faded, and it was his turn to seem bemused. “That’s amazing. You are, like, the best teacher.”
Isaac felt himself flushing from the compliment. He tried to remember if Todd had ever told him he was good at his profession.
Isaac, you should learn how to mingle more with your administrators—it’s the only way to work your way up.
Isaac, why aren’t you getting your MA in administration instead of physics? It’s not like any of these kids will appreciate those extra letters after your name.
God, Isaac, is this all you wanted to be—a lifer in a shitty high school?
“What?” Luca asked. “What’d I say?”