Little Cat

I heard Adi speaking Russian. I didn’t want to meet that asshole. I was glad she knew what to say to him.

But when she came out of the office, she wasn’t looking at my eyes. She just linked her arm through mine and we headed up the stairs. I noticed Lani and Coco hovering up at the top, but they had disappeared into their rooms by the time we got up there.

I didn’t expect that it was going to be so much like a regular hotel, a regular shithole. The stucco walls were grey with dirt. Sheets were heaped knee-high outside the doors. Our rooms were right beside each other: 221 and 223.

‘Don’t worry,’ Adi said to me as she handed me the key. ‘We’ll be out of here in a few months. Make the cash and then leave.’

‘Where are we going?’ I asked.

‘Jamaica. Good weed.’

I thought for a second about living with Adi in a bikini, stoned on the beach in Negril. I wanted to go by myself to Japan.

Everything in this craphole hotel was right away worse than I’d imagined. It smelled like bourbon and beer. I could hear a radio through the walls. I felt like I’d just arrived at a place where girls were carcasses packed together in a freezer.

It didn’t smell so bad inside my room, though. Someone must have just sprayed perfume. But in the bathroom there was a clump of black hair down the drain of the sink. The plant in the bathroom had wilted brown vines. I unhooked it and gave it some water. The soil was filled with tiny white balls.

In the bedroom, two mirrors faced the bed. One of them was full-length. My window overlooked the parking lot. There were a few trucks out back. For the first time I noticed that there was a park down the street from the club, at the end of all the factories. It looked like a high green hill with trees on top. I couldn’t tell how far it went back. I was standing there staring when the street lights turned on.

I went over to Adi’s room. She was putting her stuff away in the drawers. I’d told my parents I was moving into a friend’s apartment, so I didn’t really bring that much stuff. Just two big bags of clothes, some books and some shoes.

‘You’re already finished unpacking?’ Adi asked without turning around.

When I didn’t s

ay anything back, she said, ‘Don’t worry, Mira. Everything is fine.’

I sat down on the edge of her bed. She still hadn’t looked at me. For the first time I felt like she wasn’t telling the truth, that nothing was fine.

‘What’d that guy downstairs say about me having a room?’

Adi kept wiping her hands off on the bedspread in between unpacking her clothes, which were all folded expertly. It occurred to me at that moment that maybe she did really have kids.

‘You have the room, don’t you?’

Adi was setting up her makeup by the table and mirror. When she finished, she turned on the TV. Then she propped herself up against a pillow at the top of the bed. I climbed in beside her. I felt like talking but I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know if I felt bad or if she felt bad or which of us was worse. I took her hand. It was cold. I kept moving my fingers around, squeezing, trying to say something about the place, or ask ¬?something about her, her life, but it wouldn’t come out. We just stayed on her bed like that, eyes glazed over, watching TV. I fell asleep on top of the covers.

When I woke up, I didn’t know where I was. My neck was twisted and my muscles hurt. I turned to look over at Adi. She was still sitting up. The TV was on but she’d turned off the sound. Her eyes were wide open but it looked like she was sleeping.

I slowly rolled my head until it was straight. I just wanted to be still. I wanted to keep my body still.

I remember how after I hit him with the broom, three weeks later, John came back. I couldn’t believe it. I guess I felt a bit strange about what happened. I mean, at first I was relieved when I thought I’d never see him again, but then I felt bad. I thought: What if I was wrong? What if I was wrong to be so upset? I couldn’t believe I’d hit him with the broom! Why exactly had I been so mad?

John didn’t look at me when he ordered a coffee. He didn’t give me a tip either.

I thought: Just be nice to him even if he isn’t nice to you.

I went to clean off the table where he was sitting to say hi. John didn’t look good. He was smoking and looking out the window. I felt like I had to make things better.

‘Come on, John. How are you?’

He looked up at me with soupy eyes. For a second I thought for sure he was going to cry. I had to make it better right away.

‘John … ’

‘What?’

It wouldn’t come out of my mouth.