The image on the screen of the phone makes me stop to reflect on the idea of what I am truly about to do.
But his little face with his whiskers and unconditional love fills my mind. He loved me, absolutely loves me. He wouldn’t eat my dying body. I know that, and I hate her for saying it.
The question is, do I hate her enough to do the thing I am thinking of doing?
A meow fills the air behind me. I glance back to see the ginger tabby. She rubs against the door frame, sliding upon the wood and purring. She’s a temptress; she isn’t like Binxy. She meows again and turns, running out the door.
I lower the phone and follow her down the long corridor with the blinking lights, old fluorescents that could cause a seizure for an epileptic. She runs down the stairs, rubbing against the door.
I scowl. “You’ll die out there. Wild animals or cars or other terrible things.”
She purrs, rubbing the door persistently. So I follow, assuming she must know what she’s doing. When I open the door she bolts, pausing when she’s halfway across the grass in the commons. Something else moves out there with her.
I walk into the dimly lit field, a little scared of the commons at night. But when I see what she’s rubbing against now, I break into a run.
His little black-and-white face is a miracle. He followed me, like I knew he would. I drop to my knees when I get close enough, squishing into the damp grass. I put a hand out for him to smell. He tiptoes along, not even making a sound as he walks. His whiskers have fog on them, mist from the thick ocean air that’s making the lights glow.
He creeps closer—close enough for me to pick up when his cold nose touches my fingertip. I nestle my face into his thick, damp fur and take a lungful of the smell that is entirely him. He smells like the woods and the dirt and love.
He immediately purrs, a reward I have rarely received. When I look down, the orange cat is gone. She’s run off into the woods, or just vanished like a messenger or a guardian angel might.
I wrap him in my arms, noting he’s thinner. The week’s journey to get to this place has been a hungry one. I don’t know how he found me, but gripping him makes everything better.
As I climb the stairs to my dorm, one of the girls I met the day before—Angie, an exchange student from the UK, Scotland specifically—smiles wide. “By the gods, that’s a cute cat. Look at that fur!” She reaches for him without asking my permission. Or Binx’s, rather. But he doesn’t care. He leans in, letting her love him up. His purring stops, because that’s just the sort of cat he is, but his eyes close because he knows he’s safe.
“What’s the wee highness’s name?” Her thick accent makes me smile.
“Binx.”
“Like Thackery Binx?”
I nod, completely baffled at her knowing Hocus Pocus well enough to know the cat from the movie. “Yes. Exactly.”
“One of the very best American movies ya Yanks have ever been able to pull off. Yer theater is lacking, largely, but that movie is a classic.” Her grin widens; she seems like an old soul. Too old for college, but I can tell that is just the look in her eyes. She knows too much of the world to be a wide-eyed college girl. Somehow she is older and wiser than the rest of us and yet fits in with me; maybe it’s just me, though. “The way yer people go about hiring an actress for her tits and ass is offensive to the real artists of the world. Ya will note that we in Europe hire an actor for skills. Yeah, they all have raggedy teeth and crazy hair, but at least they can get around a stage.”
I snort, and it shocks me. I don’t remember the last time I snorted.
Her gray-blue eyes and dark-red hair are an amazing combination. I haven’t ever noticed a redhead with blue eyes like hers, except Mrs. Ridge at the post office, but her red hair is the bottle variety.
“Ya taking him back to your room then? He’ll live here with ya?”
I nod carefully, watching her gaze. She could be a professor, her eyes are so old compared to the other kids in the hall I’ve passed by.
“Interesting. Well, if ya need someone to watch him let me know.” She winks and turns, leaving with a wave. I clutch to my cat and scurry to my room. I lay him on my bed and stroke his back. He accepts a minute of love before turning and starting his exploration of our new space.
I catch a glimpse of my face in the mirror. The image flickers, maybe from the light or maybe my vision. The reflection is there until I blink, seeing the face of a girl with dark hair and different-colored eyes. It flashes for only a second. She’s screaming and scared and then gone.
I open my eyes, suddenly shaking and cold.
The door opens to the hallway and Michelle walks in, instantly stopping when she sees the cat. “Seriously? Another one?”