Love Saves the Day

“What complicated?” Josh’s father answers. “I sold electrical supplies. I had the electrical supplies, I sold them, and then the other guy had supplies and I had money.” Josh’s father sighs again. “That was when you could describe a man’s job in one word. Salesman. Contractor. Accountant.” From underneath the couch, I can see the tips of his fingers as he gestures in Laura’s direction. “Now, a lawyer,” he says. “That’s a job I can understand.”

“Really, Dad?” Josh sounds amused, but also exasperated. “You know what lawyers do all day?”

“How should I know what a lawyer does all day?” Josh’s father replies. “If I knew that, I’d be a lawyer.”

If Sarah had ever talked to Laura like this, Laura’s face would have gotten tight, and she would have left Sarah’s apartment without saying another word. But Josh bursts out laughing and says, “One of us sounds crazy right now, and I’m honestly not sure which one it is.”

“It’s your mother,” Josh’s father says. “She always sounds crazy. I think we should rescue Laura.”

“What’s that?” Josh’s mother calls from the other side of the coffee table. Her voice is loud and what Sarah would call “raspy.” “Are you two talking about me?”

“We were just wondering what the ladies were talking about,” Josh’s father says.

“I was telling Laura and Erica about Esther Bookman. She’s getting married again, you know.”

“Ah, Esther Bookman!” Josh exclaims. “The sexual dynamo of Parsippany. What is this, husband number five?”

“Oh, stop,” his mother says. “You know perfectly well this is only her third marriage.” Turning to Laura, she adds, “Do you see how they make fun of me?”

“One time, when I was nine or ten, I had to call Mrs. Bookman’s son Matt about a school project,” Josh tells Laura. “Mrs. Bookman answered the phone and I asked to speak to Matt. After I hung up, my mother said, Did Mrs. Bookman answer the phone? I said yes, and then she said, Well, did you say hello, Mrs. Bookman, how are you? I said no, and she told me, You call her back right now and apologize for being so rude.” Josh laughs again. “I really didn’t want to. I begged and cried, but Zelda was relentless. Finally, after an hour of fighting, I called Mrs. Bookman and said”—Josh pretends to sound like he’s crying—“I’m s-sorry I d-didn’t say hello, how are you, Mrs. Bookman.”

Laura laughs, too. “At least I know why Josh is so polite,” she tells Josh’s mother.

Humans aren’t nearly as good at being polite as cats are. But even I have to admit that it was very smart of Josh’s mother to try to teach him the proper way to greet someone by her name. I wonder why he didn’t remember that the first time he met me.

“I have no idea what he’s talking about,” Josh’s mother says. “He’s making that up.”

Laura just smiles. “Would anybody like another glass of wine? More soda?”

“You don’t need another glass of wine, Abe,” Josh’s mother says, before his father can answer Laura.

“It’s a holiday,” Josh’s father says. “I can live a little, for God’s sake.”

“A seventy-five-year-old man shouldn’t drink so much,” she tells him.

“Mother loves reminding me how old I am.” I see his hand reach for the bottle on the coffee table. “As if she wasn’t only five years behind me.”

“Five years is five years,” she says. I wonder why some humans, like Josh’s mother, like to talk so much that they think they have to point out perfectly obvious things.

“How old are you, Mom?” It’s the little boy who asks this.

“I’m forty-two,” Erica answers.

“And how old is Uncle Josh?”

“Thirty-nine,” Erica says.

Now Abbie speaks up. “How old is Aunt Laura?”

“A lady never tells,” Josh’s mother says. But the corners of Laura’s mouth twitch into a smile, and she says, “That’s okay. I just turned thirty.”

With everybody talking about their ages (I had no idea they were all so old—I’m only three!), this seems like the perfect opportunity for me to creep out from under-the-couch and into the dining area without the littermates noticing me. The food smells unbearably delicious, and everybody else must be able to smell it, too. I even hear the sound of a human stomach growling. It can’t be too much longer before they eat.

Laura must be thinking the same thing, because she puts her glass of wine down and says, “Why don’t we head over to the table?”

“Hooray!” the littermates yell. They run over so fast that I have to crouch down into the shadow next to the couch to keep them from seeing me. Josh’s father and mother struggle a little when they stand up from the couches, but soon everyone is at the table. My mouth has so much water in it that I have to lick my whiskers a few times while I wait for the eating to begin.