I brushed the cat back – actually had to brush two back – to get to the mixed nuts on the bar. “Hey, Hank, I didn’t think cats liked nuts.”
“They don’t. It must be the fish powder I sprinkled on.”
That seemed odd – but then, I didn’t notice anything strange with the flavor, so maybe it was a normal thing and I’d just forgotten. Of course, it was a little odd to have cats in the bar, but maybe they'd always been there and I hadn't noticed.
Just then the door swung open and my uncle stepped into the bar with three women, all of whom I knew, but I couldn’t tell you offhand where I knew them from. It was just one of those feelings you get, right?
I waved at him and they waved at me, then took an empty table. I asked Hank for a pitcher of Shiner and three empty glasses, which he handed to me immediately.
I walked the pitcher of beer to the table, but when I sat it down, I realized it was a pitcher of Bloody Marys, so I poured myself a glass and passed the other four glasses around the table.
“So, dad, what brings you here? Is it still raining out there?”
“Pouring, but how did you know?”
“ESPN.”
“Ohh, right.” He swung his head around and squinted at the soccer match on tv. “Who’s winning?”
“Nobody yet – it’s still early. Only the second inning, I think.”
One of the women nudged him - I think her name was Gwen. “Harry, I’m cold.”
That was understandable. She was wearing a scoopneck blouse, but it was paper thin and she was soaked from the rain. I handed her my blanket and she quickly made a cocoon for herself and laid on the floor for a nap. When I looked up, there were still three women, but then there are always three women around my dad, now that my mom has passed.
“Hey, how’s your garden going?”
“It’s good – why don’t you try the pears. I brought them especially for you.”
“Hey, great.” I turned around to the produce bin and bagged up about two pounds of pears – nice, ripe Bartletts that were soft to the touch, but not too soft. I took another one out of the bin and tossed it into the trash because it had already started to mold. “Two points” I called out, and the women applauded and each gave me big hugs before going back to their game of strip pool. I never understand the scoring, but I’ve always loved watching the game for some reason.
I remembered that I needed tomatoes and romaine for the weekend, and turned back to the produce bin. I filled a sack each with them before turning back to my dad and my uncle. One of them had just gotten there, but I wasn’t sure which. “Why don’t you take your coat off and stay a while?” I asked my uncle. “Still raining out there?”
He looked at me like I was an idiot. “No, it hasn’t rained in two weeks. You’re thinking about Guatemala. They just made a two-pointer, looks like.” He nodded toward the tv screen.
I chuckled. “Oh yeah, that would explain it.”
I watched them Zamboni the field for a moment, then turned back.
“So, where’s Aunt Carol? Is she coming later?"
They traded glances.
My dad looked sad and said, “She’s out of the country, but she’ll be back in about an hour.”
My uncle nudged him. “Go ahead and tell him Vern. He has a right to know.”
Dad raised his Shiner up and took a long pull, then nodded. As he shrugged, he said, “We’ve decided to get a divorce.”
I was shocked, but not surprised. They’d been brother and sister for a long time. I half suspected they’d only stayed related to each other because of us kids, me and my sister Claire. Or was it Claudia, though … come to think of it … I don’t have a sister. I have a brother and his name is Ed.
“What happened, dad?”
“It just wasn’t working out. Neither of us were home long enough to feed the animals, and they were going hungry.”
He looked pretty broken up, so I snapped my fingers and all the cats came running. He brightened when he saw them racing toward us, tails high in the air. All except for Stinky Pete, who had Babette in the far corner near the juke box, trying to mount her.
Dad set the food and water bowls from his valise onto the table next to us. They all swarmed around, like they hadn’t had any food or water in days. Evidently, he was right.
A beeping started up – not continuous, but very persistent. “Beep-beep-beep-beep-beep.” It would pause, then repeat, pause then repeat. I checked my pockets for my phone, but there was only the receipt for the fruit I’d gotten earlier. I looked around, trying to figure out where the beeping was coming from. Gwen was still on the floor, rolled up like a cigar, so it couldn’t be her. The girls were all busy at the shufflepool table, which is a game I’ve never really understood, but I've always found fascinating anyway. I couldn’t shake the beeping sound, which was starting to annoy me. My dad and uncle were conferring privately, occasionally throwing a glance my way. They were getting annoyed, too, and didn’t understand why I wasn’t doing something about the racket.
Frustrated, I got up and went back to my original spot at the bar.
“Hey, Hank, can you do something about that ruckus?” I hadn't noticed until then how much Hank resembled David Duchovny. No wonder my wife liked coming there.
“Wish I could, my man, but it’s your alarm, not mine.”
“Huh?”
“Your alarm.”
I shook my head.
“It’s your alarm clock, man! Turn the fucking thing off, or at least hit snooze. You’re going to wake up Caroline! Geez!”
He shook his head and went back to wiping the bar down.
I reached over and tapped the snooze button on the alarm clock on the counter, next to the mixed nuts.
“See? Was that so hard? Anyway – another beer?”
“Love to, but I’ve got to be waking up in another five minutes.”
“Hey, remember that alarm clock you used to have? Snooze gave you nine minutes instead of five. Whatever happened to it?”
“Best alarm clock in the world, Hank. Got broke in a move.”
“Damn shame, bro.”
I picked up the Bloody Mary I’d brought from the table and had it almost at my lips when one of the cats jostled my arm, spilling a little on my pillow.
“Hang on – it’s not time yet.”
Again, I went to take a sip and again, she jostled my arm. Another spot on my pillow.
“Seriously – geez! Give me two more minutes!”
The cat said, “That’s what you said thirty minutes ago, babe. It’s been six snoozes, and your alarm is driving me crazy. Plus, the cats are probably starving. They haven’t been fed since nine o’clock last night.”
“Alright, alright. I’m getting up. I don’t know why you and I have the cats in the first place, Caroline. We’re never home to take care of them.”
I rolled myself off the edge of the bed and staggered off to the kitchen to feed the cats, thinking “Mornings like these, I could really use a Bloody Mary …”
Our baby cat Sasha followed me in, meowing softly. One of us said, "You would not believe the dream I just had ..." I hoped it was me.
Pretty sure it was me.
Yeah, definitely me.
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