Chapter 17 Harrison - Feline Alvin
A harmless necessary cat
The Merchant of Venice, William Shakespeare
If I thought Friday night was awkward, Sunday night was even worse.
Peggy came in and judged poor Emma, and then Damon came over with more fucking flowers.
How many flowers did one woman need? Emma looked at the flowers longingly.
I made a mental note to get her some tomorrow.
I couldn't give them to her at work because Brian was on our case, but I'd have them delivered here. Lately I couldn’t even take a shit without Brian asking me questions. Flowers would make a statement to Cordelia too; they’d let her know that Emma and I were still going strong, despite her little hate campaign.
Sunday afternoon, after Peggy’s visit, Cordy ducked out for half an hour and returned with a calico cat.
“What the fuck is that, Cordelia?” I asked. We had a lot of white furnishings in this house and this beast would no doubt be dropping germs and black and ginger fur everywhere. Cordelia lifted the cat and smooshed her nose right into its face. Disgusting! The cat licks its asshole with that face.
“This is my new cat. It was adoption day at the shelter! Harrison, Emma, meet Alvin, the newest member of this house.”
I mustered the dirtiest look I could. If she thought a cat would drive me out of my own home, she was deluded. And Alvin? That was a direct dig at Emma, but Cordelia’s expression was as innocent as a Disney cartoon.
That night, Emma cooked for us. I ate it, but it was terrible.
I think her mom had done most of the cooking at home, but she was keen to learn now that she was living with me.
She was so sweet, always wanting to spoil me.
In return, I wanted to spoil her. Damon and Cordy ordered in, which was unusual.
Cordy usually cooked, but she had been gardening all day.
The smell of their Indian food wafted into the dining room from the living room, making my mouth water.
Emma had made fried rice and chicken, but the rice had clumped together and was burned at the bottom.
She also hadn't precooked the bacon, so it was kind of cold and spongy.
I shoveled it down, understanding the importance of support when she was learning a new skill.
I had to keep reminding myself that she was young and hadn't lived independently before.
This was all new to her, and I appreciated her efforts.
My appetite wasn’t helped at all by the sight of Alvin sitting at the dining room table as if she was human or something.
Why couldn’t she bother Cordelia and leave me alone?
I made a mental note of the surfaces she was touching.
I’d have to clean them later. Cordelia didn’t seem to care where the damn cat walked.
I even found it on the counter earlier as Emma was chopping onion.
Even Emma didn’t care and was chatting away to Alvin like she was a friend.
The thought of Alvin being so close to my food made me gag a little.
That cat walked around with its asshole uncovered 24/7.
I was sick of looking at it, both the cat and its asshole.
After dinner, Damon and Cordy disappeared into her bedroom, leaving us the living room for the night.
Hmm, 8 pm was pretty early to go to bed.
I guess they were watching Netflix or something.
There’s no way she'd be sleeping with him this soon, even if she had spent the night at his house on Saturday and given us a little show as she walked home.
She was just trying to get to me. She made me wait four months!
Add a broken heart to her usual wait time, this poor bloke would have to put a ring on her finger before she opened her legs for him.
“We should go to bed too. Maybe a movie and some hot lovin’” Emma suggested.
“Definitely!” I laughed, slapping her on the backside.
We cleaned up our kitchen mess and headed to bed.
I sat with my legs spread and my back against the headboard, while Emma relaxed between my legs.
She fit like a puzzle piece. We were halfway through an episode of Sons of Anarchy when a repetitive thud kept interrupting.
What the fuck was that? Was Alvin knocking things over?
It was rhythmic ... thump, thump, thump, at equally spaced intervals.
Emma stared at me and muted the television.
Holy shit! It was coming from Cordy’s bedroom next door.
What was that? Was he putting up a frame for her?
Thump ... thump ... thump. We wandered over to the wall, pressing our ears against it like we could somehow hear through wood and plaster.
I couldn’t make out the words, but I could discern the tone.
Moans and grunts. Motherfucker. The banging was the headboard.
They were having sex in my old bed! This was completely inappropriate.
Emma was too young to hear someone having sex.
And it was insensitive with me next door.
“Fuck Cordy!” the asshole yelled. Yeah, I could hear that one.
Well, two can play that game. I grabbed Emma and pushed her onto the bed.
“What are you doing?” she snapped. “We’re trying to compete with them now?”
“They’re disrespecting you, Em. I won’t allow that.” She got into the groove, grabbing me and engaging me in a passionate kiss. I made sure I was loud, and I poked Em to make her squeal. She wasn’t a moaner or a shouter; she was more of a quiet panter, but she needed to up her performance for this.
“Stop fucking poking me,” she hissed. She never spoke to me like that. I rubbed where I had poked her. “I’m sorry baby. I just think if you’re louder, they’ll realize how inconsiderate they’re being to you.”
“I don’t care if they’re having loud sex,” she said.
“It’s none of our business. Sure, it may be a bit weird to hear, but whatever.
My friend Sandy had sex with a guy in the same room as me once, not a huge deal babe.
” I was stunned. Emma couldn’t have had that much life experience yet.
I’d apparently ruined her orgasm, but I found my release a few minutes later.
Thump ... thump ... thump. Obviously, my good neighbor had not yet found his. Thump ... thump ... thump.
“Okay, I’m starting to care now because I actually want to sleep tonight,” Emma seethed. Before I could get up and deal with it, there was a deep grunt and then silence. Thank fuck. Was that guy taking Viagra?
We finished a few more episodes and called it a night at about 11:30 pm.
We were about to drop off when it started again.
Thump ... thump ... thump. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Emma moaned.
Oh, so now she could moan. She’d started swearing a lot lately.
It didn’t suit her sweet personality. Cordy and Miranda were becoming bad influences.
“They’ll stop soon,” I said, pulling the pillow over my ears.
But they didn’t. Twenty minutes passed. As a pharmacist, I should caution him about the use of Viagra in such a young man.
Emma was furious. “Let’s do it again, Harrison.
I’ll be as loud as you want this time. This is ridiculous!
” I tried. I really tried, but I’d already had sex just over an hour ago and was exhausted and stressed.
Maybe Miranda was slipping things into my food to reduce my sex drive? It was just the kind of thing she’d do.
Emma sighed in defeat. “Goodnight, Harrison.” I went to kiss her goodnight, but she’d already rolled over.
The rabbits next door had finally stopped and were hopefully done for the night.
I felt like I’d been asleep for a matter of minutes when I woke up to loud screeching sounds.
Low, rumbling growls intermingled with ferocious meows.
Great, there was a cat fight outside our window.
Fucking stray cats! I would join Peggy’s stupid subcommittee if every cat in the neighborhood was going to hold all-night fight clubs outside my window.
“Noooo,” Emma complained. “I’m so fucking tired.”
“I’ll fix it babe,” I promised. I should ask her to stop swearing.
Where were my pants? I looked around on the floor.
Emma and I weren’t exactly the tidiest people when it came to clothing.
And I really didn’t fancy getting close to cats in my expensive pants.
Fuck it. The weather was warm, and it was the middle of the night.
No one would see. I rushed out the front door in my tighty whities to scare the cats away.
“Goodness gracious, Harrison,” Peggy admonished. “Ladies, look away. Reg, I'll leave this to you.”
I looked up to see at least five old ladies and poor henpecked Reg on the pavement outside my house. They all had torches pointed directly at me. I looked for the cats, but it appeared that the Old Person Patrol Team had already dispersed them. Didn’t old people go to bed at 6 pm?
“Harrison, this isn’t appropriate. If you want to join the night cat patrol, you need to join the subcommittee properly. And you need to be clothed.” Reg stood in front of the elderly ladies like I was some flashing pervert and he was their protector. I covered my groin with my hands.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know about the patrols. I only came out here to—"
“All of the patrol information was on the leaflet, Harrison,” Reg said sternly.
“I find it difficult to believe you didn’t know, and I find your behavior very inappropriate.
All of your behavior,” he finished, glancing at Peggy, who nodded sagely.
He was obviously referring to my infidelity trophy and the zombie porn. Fucking old people.
I apologized again and went to bed. Alvin walked past and showed me her asshole for at least the tenth time that day.
At least the cats outside had cleared out for the night.
I had no idea why our house was all of a sudden their hotspot but I immediately thought of Miranda. How did the little bitch do this?