Chapter 2
He did not. In fact, he kept Nacho’s and his daily routine going for another week with nothing really happening. He enjoyed his time off, finally reading some books he had had on his list for what felt like forever, lazing on the patio with Nacho constantly by his side apart from the nights when he still felt compelled to leave her outside and some hours during the he afternoon when she disappeared in the bushes to roam the neighborhood as cats do. It wasn’t until a few days later that something changed.
He was just done laying the table – Raven and his co-worker and close friend Moira were going to come over for dinner provided that they were the ones bringing the food since with his cooking skills, or rather the lack thereof, he barely managed to keep himself and (newly) a cat alive.
He was startled by Nacho rushing in through the patio door, followed by an unusual metallic dangling sound.
Charles raised an eyebrow and looked at the cat that – visibly upset – used her paw to try and get what was behind the sound off of her: she was struggling with a wine red collar around her neck.
He wouldn’t admit it to anyone but Charles’ heart sank at that sight – she was wearing a collar… definite proof that she belonged somewhere.
He kneeled down with a sigh to get a closer look and reached out to hold Nacho in place – she really wanted to get rid of the thing around her neck. “There, there dear now let me see what this is.”
The collar had a locket on it, beautifully woven from thin lines of metal… something one would think way too precious to be dangling from the neck of a roaming cat. When Charles took it between his fingers – the cat writhing in his arms in an attempt to break free – he noticed that he could unscrew part of it and managed to do so soon after.
Inside the locket he found a piece of paper, carefully rolled into a tiny scroll.
That was … odd.
Absentmindedly he placed the cat on the floor and walked over to sit down at the table, carefully unrolling the paper. “W A N D A” it said in the front. The letters were written in black ink and oddly straight and accurate. “Wanda?” Charles read aloud. The cat to his feet stared at him. “So you do have a name after all? Or is that where you belong?” Wanda? He flipped the paper and saw that it was also written on in the back. “Lehnsherr.” The same handwriting, a little sloppier though. A phone number beneath it. And, lastly, “please contact me.”
Once again, Charles sighed. He didn’t feel like calling that number at all. As much as he was interested in finding out where Nacho – Wanda – came from … he still didn’t feel like letting her go. What if she had a good reason to leave there? She had been very hungry before he had started feeding her… what if her people were bad?
He was so deep in thought about what kind of person might be behind the odd name on the note – he had saved the number in his contacts before realizing it. He would call them later… maybe after dinner… for now he would put the note back where he found it – he should probably let the Lehnsherr person know that he had received the message he thought, so he got out a pen and added a little “thanks” to the note.
“Thanks,” he thought bitterly as he reinstalled the note in the locket. Thanks for what? He meant to say “thank you for letting me know where this cat belongs” because it was what his rational brain was telling him was appropriate. But he couldn’t help but not feel thankful at all.
***
“Lehnsherr…” Raven frowned. “I don’t know… to me it sounds kind of …”, “suspicious.”, “European.” Charles and Moira had finished her sentence at the exact same time.
Over dinner, the professor had briefed his guests on the events of the earlier evening, Wanda sitting by their side looking weirdly offended – as if she didn’t like having her secret exposed like that.
“Suspicious?” Raven giggled. “Brother dear, you can’t antagonize them just because you want to keep their cat.”, “All I’m saying is that she wouldn’t have just run away like that. Why would she? She’s an absolute sweetheart.”
“There’s plenty of reasons.” Moira interjected: “it could be a baby in the household, or another cat in the neighbourhood or just plain boredom.”
“Exactly.” Raven added: “you should definitely call them like they asked you to. Maybe everything will turn out just fine. Either way it’s your duty to do so. And who knows, maybe you two get along well and can obsess over the cat together or something … if it’s an old lady which – judging by the posh looking locket around that animal’s neck – doesn’t appear all too unlikely, you can come over for tea and be old farts together – or something.”
“Thank you for that. Besides, the handwriting didn’t look too much like an old lady,” Charles frowned: “and I’m not looking to make a friend here.”
“Maybe you should be. The only people visiting you are your sister and your co-worker. Maybe this whole thing is to get you out of your bubble for once.”
“Okay are we still talking about the cat situation or is this turning into you two trying to get me to go out with you again? Because I feel like it’s turning into a lecture about the latter.”
Moira grinned: “Doesn’t make us less right tho”, she winked at him: “We haven’t done anything fun in ages. All you do these days is work. Listen to your sister for once, Chucko.”
“Hell will freeze before that day comes.” Raven replied while helping herself to another glass of wine.
Charles didn’t like this conversation. As little as he enjoyed talking about the Lehnsherr person and their claim on the cat – the girls trying to peer pressure him into going out more was worse. He was a grown man and – okay admittedly, maybe he did barely leave the house anymore but did it bother him? He was fine on his own.
“Long story short, no matter your motives or lack thereof, you should call that number or at least shoot them a text.” Raven concluded, supported by a heavy nod from Moira.
“I will contact them, of course I will. But what if they’re genuinely bad people, or what if they’re plain creepy, or if it’s some kind of –“
“Oh my god –“ Moira looked genuinely terrified and absolutely delighted at once: “What if they’re hot?”
Charles thought about this statement of Moira’s when he was in bed later that night. He thought back to the neat and strong handwriting on the paper inside the little locket.
It did have a rather masculine touch to it … something that contrasted his own squiggly writing rather nicely he thought.
He further thought that maybe the girls were right and that perhaps this was an opportunity for him to meet someone new.
His next thought was declaring himself officially pathetic for romanticizing a complete stranger by their handwriting.
He came to the frustrating conclusion that Raven and Moira had been correct all along. That he was indeed miserably lonely and needed to get out of the house more often. Maybe people who actually met other people, went on dates, had drinks in bars, communicated with people besides their sister and coworkers didn’t overthink a far fetched statement by said coworker.
He sighed and flipped his pillow to the cooler side. This summer heat really affected his thought processes in the weirdest of ways. He would call the number in the morning – would find out that some old lady, or some middle aged family father, or some crazy cat lady was behind it, and hope that they would continue to let Wanda visit him and the whole thing would be over with. But first he needed some sleep. That was all.