“Eliot,” I whispered, as though the word itself were illicit.
The ride to the apartments only took a few minutes, and although I pressed my nose to the window, I could barely see anything of the new city I had landed in. High stone walls loomed over sidewalk snowdrifts, and the few people walking down the street were bundled up so much as to be unrecognizable. We rounded a corner into a neighborhood where the buildings cast shadows down onto the street, and it immediately felt like dusk had fallen. I shivered, looking up at the sky.
The limo stopped in front of a drab stone building three stories tall. All of the windowsills heaped high with snow, and I wrapped myself up again as best as I could before stepping out of the limo cab. It wasn’t enough. The cold pierced through to my skin, and even my best boots couldn’t keep out the iciness of the snow-covered sidewalk. My toes felt instantly numb.
The driver waited patiently by my side until, blushing, I scrambled in my pocket for a tip. I only had American money, not having thought to transfer any at the airport, so I gave him a dollar. He tucked it into his pocket unceremoniously, got into the limo, and drove away, leaving me standing in front of the building.
“This better be the right place,” I said, looking up at the apartments. Almost a week early, I would be staying by myself until the other students arrived. I didn’t mind solitude, and actually looked forward to exploring Budapest on my own, but I couldn’t help feeling a bit scared by the easy manner in which the limo driver had left me alone in an unfamiliar city. The street seemed dead, eerily quiet, and the top window of the building had been broken, the glass cracked in a hard, shattered star.
The wind whipped through my hoodie, and I slung my bag up over my shoulder, marching quickly up the outside stairs. The key turned in the lock, and I pushed it open, stepping inside. The door slammed shut behind me and I felt something scurry under my feet. I dropped my bag, the keys went scattering across the old wood floor, and I screamed.
The small furry creature darted behind the interior stairs, and I gasped as I threw myself backwards against the closed door behind me, knocking the wind out of my lungs. The light inside shone dimly, and I couldn’t see enough to make out what it was. Maybe a rat? I shuddered. Sometimes rats would invade my Nagy’s house to get at the pantry, and I hated the way their beady eyes looked knowingly at me as they scurried away with our food. Adrenaline made my heart pound.
Taking off one boot as a defensive weapon, I moved farther inside, trying to see underneath the rickety stairs. My breath still blew white—the heaters must not have gotten turned on yet, and it was almost as freezing inside as it had been outside, except for the chill of the wind. I could see the animal under the staircase, its ratty gray fur moving with its breaths. I stepped closer to the staircase, holding my boot above my head, ready to bring it down on the creature.
“Meow!”
I stopped with my boot still in my hand. A cat? Too small to be a cat. I squinted, and as I was debating what to do it poked its head out and meowed again at me. I got a good look at it—just a kitten, and a ragged one at that. It had a light gray coat, marred in places by burrs and scratches, and its whiskers trembled as it looked out at me.
I sat back and laughed, all of the tension running out of my system. A damn kitten! My foot was beginning to turn numb from the cold, so I shoved my boot back on. I leaned forward, holding my hand out in goodwill.
“Here, kitty, kitty. Here, sweetheart.”
The kitten hissed, its fur standing up on its back.#p#分页标题#e#
“Don’t be scared.” I stopped, my hand hovering in the air. My fingers got colder by the second.
The kitten’s fur relaxed, but it stepped back, still wary.
“Here, kitty.”
Kitty had white mittens tipping his gray coat, and a white pointed diamond on his forehead, just between his ears. It looked like a large white snowflake had landed on the middle of his head and stuck. One ear, torn and healed over, flicked from the front to the side. Both of his ears looked too big for his head.
The kitten hissed again, but this time less assuredly.
For whatever reason, I was determined to make this animal my friend. He was the first native I had met in Hungary, and I wanted to make a good impression. I dug through my duffel bag until I found my sandwich. Peeling off the last piece of salami, I tossed it at the foot of the staircase. The kitty immediately perked up his ears and widened his eyes. I couldn’t help but laugh again. He looked like a bat with such giant kittenish ears, the one ragged ear flicking repeatedly toward the food.
“Come on kitty,” I said. “I won’t hurt you.” I kissed the air until he came forward from behind the staircase.