“What’s with the cats?” David asked to no one in particular.
One of the organizers of the trip explained to all of us that traditionally, the people of Israel treated stray cats not as pets but as vermin. With an overpopulation of cats, the Ministry of the Environment created laws against feeding the feral cats. My heart nearly broke when told I’d be violating the law by giving my food to the cats.
Adam caught the tears in my eyes and wiped them away with his fingers. “I have three.”
“What?”
“I have three cats. Leia, Luke, and Yoda.”
“I thought only little old ladies had three cats. Isn’t that a rule or something?” I teased.
His eyes narrowed and for a brief second, I caught a glimpse of the man I used to know. That’s when I identified one of the causes of his spitefulness. I had hurt his feelings.
“I’m sorry. That was mean of me to say.”
“You must be a dog person.” He smiled, and I knew he had already forgiven me.
“I don’t know. I grew up with dogs. Does that make me a dog person?”
“Everyone is either a cat person or a dog person.”
“I don’t know. What’s the difference?”
“Cat people are better.”
“No, really I want to know.”
“Those people who prefer cats tend to be more neurotic than dog people, but open to new experiences while dog people are extroverted and agreeable.”
“What if you can’t decide whether you’re a dog or a cat person?
“Then you’re more like a dog person but a bit neurotic.”
“You’re making this up!”
I punched him on the shoulder thinking how silly it is to define a person by the type of animal they prefer. Then it occurred to me I did the same based on coffee. Adam didn’t seem to mind what kind of coffee he drank as long as he drank it hot. Based on my superior analysis of a coffee drink, I would label Adam as indifferent and apathetic. That didn’t match his personality at all. Had I been wrong to label a person simply by one insignificant choice? Was my theory as equally silly as Adam’s cat and dog theory?
“No, I’m not. They did some study at the University of Texas.”
“You think of yourself as neurotic?”
“Very. You haven’t figured that out by now? You’re a psychologist!”
“Yes, but I treat teenage girls, not immature thirty-year-old boys!” I laughed, even though I felt slightly insulted by his remark.
“Twenty-eight.”
“What?”
“I’m twenty-eight. Remember, I’m younger than you.”
“Age is a state of mind,” I retorted, ready to end the conversation.
“Only if you’re older,” he responded nastily.
“And more mature,” I added angrily.
“What’s your problem, Sara?”
“Why do you want to fight, Adam?”
“I’m not the one who can’t even decide if she’s a cat or dog person.”
I opened my mouth to say something in response, but nothing came to mind.
Up until that point, my friends had sat and listened to our banter without saying a word. Alison caught on to my need for rescue.
“I’m going to run to the bathroom before we leave. Anyone want to join me?”
I grabbed my purse and followed her, grateful for the excuse to get away from Adam before I said anything I’d later regret.
“What was that about?”
How could I answer when I didn’t even understand what happened?
“Honestly, I don’t know. We’ve always had a contentious relationship. I hoped he had changed, but maybe I was wrong.”
“Can I be honest with you, Sara?” Alison started shifting from one foot to the other as if debating on how to phrase what she wanted to say.
“Of course,” I answered, wanting to say no because nothing good ever followed the words can I be honest with you.
“You and he need to have a talk. There’s something he’s not telling you.”
“How can you possibly know that? Are you a therapist?”
“No, I just have experience.”
“With therapists or men?” I giggled.
“Both. I’ve had a lot of fucked-up relationships with men which led to me seeing a lot of therapists through the years.” She gave me a hug as I pondered her observation.
Adam sat with David on the bus and I sat alone, resting my head on the windowpane. As a psychologist, I spend a great deal of time helping others get in touch with their feelings and identifying their motives for their behavior. Rarely have I participated in self-examination.
Maybe, it was time.
I couldn’t decide whether I should spend the night with Adam or sleep in my own hotel room. In the end, he made the decision for me.