Tabby Matchmaker

“If you don’t like spanish guitar, you’re just not cool.”

    The recipient of this warning was a green-eyed tabby with an outrageously innocent expression on her face. She gazed steadily back at him, supremely unconcerned.

    The guitar enthusiast chuckled softly, now I’m talking to dumb animals, he thought. He sat on a nearby bench, doubled over with frustration and amusement in equal parts. 

    The tabby climbed up and extended a striped limb to the shoulder of the sufferer. Who says that cats can’t be compassionate? She patted him a few times.

    “Well hello, my name is Jim. What’s yours?”

A peaceful pause ensued, until finally the guitarist said, “I think I’ll call you Dovey. That seems to suit you.”

      The newly named Dovey cuddled down next to him. He stroked her back saying, “I’m at a crossroads Dove. My band is going in a different direction. I feel so alone. Maybe not completely alone now, huh?”

       Dovey rubbed her cheek on Jim’s leg. He became abstracted, going over the last year with his band, with a sense of detachment. Bill is the problem, he thought. Creative differences were inevitable from the beginning. Bill was in the music business as a business first. Money was everything to Bill, as he had two ex-wives to support, and a fun-loving girlfriend. 

        Jim had never gelled with the band, though they welcomed him with open arms for his skill with the plectrum and his dark good looks. Bill in particular knew that Jim would add eye-appeal to the fans. Jim was very similar to eighties rocker Corey Hart at first glance. Blond Bill was a little past his prime, and the other guys had never been handsome.

        Together, they had played as The Turnabouts for years, working their way up to opening for Spasms  last year. All along, it was a tug-of-war between Jim and Bill for the tone of the band, Jim favoring a Dire Straits vibe, and Bill wanting more of a bubblegum appeal. The opportunities had started to dry up as far as concerts went. The Turnabouts were working on a new album that seemed a bit boy-bandish when Jim reached his limit. Enough, he thought. He would carry on looking for a better fit as lead guitarist elsewhere. When he quit, Bill seemed to expect it and take it well. He probably had his replacement lined up, Bill thought ruefully.

          Dovey was acting strangely. She would jump down from the bench, stare, then jump back up. Back near, she would pat Jim twice, then jump back down again. Jim directed his glazed gaze at her but didn’t move. Again the ritual of patting and jumping down. Jim was confused.

           Dovey began to get frustrated. Trying a new tactic, she grabbed Jim’s ankle cuff with her teeth, and tried to pull him a little, as a puppy might. Jim arose and began to be led by the tabby. Down the street they went to an ice cream parlor that Jim had never noticed before. The scent of freshly-made waffle cones wafted invitingly around. The tabby entered in jauntily,  as a young couple were coming out with some decadent sea salt caramel topped cones. Jim felt compelled to follow the tabby wherever she led, and wondered that she wasn’t being shooed out.            

        Suddenly, he stopped as if blinded at the entrance of the parlor. A face was behind the counter serving eager customers, a very familiar, beloved face. There, working, was his first love Monica. He had not seen her since they decided to break up 12 years ago at 18. Twelve years had not changed Monica very much. She still had those sparkling hazel-green eyes, chestnut hair, perfect teeth. She was a little more womanly now and her skin a little tanner, but it only made her more beautiful. Jim looked at her hands: no rings. 

         He began to feel a little inadequate, newly unemployed as he was, and considered walking back out to think, when she saw him.  She stopped her scooping, and opened her mouth in a silent oh. He had to pull himself together.

     “Monica.”

     “Jim! What are you doing here? I mean, it’s great to see you!”

She bent down to pat Dovey, who seemed to know her really well. Dovey looked back at Jim as if to say, “Well, here she is. Say something dummy!”

        Jim laughed, saying honestly, “I just came from quitting my band, and this cat led me here. I thought you were thousands of miles away in Rhode Island, and here you are in Texas!”

         “Yeah”, Monica laughed. I’m not sure that many who go to college in Rhode Island stay there afterwards. Though, Rhode Island is nice. I came back to be near my family, and they moved a few hundred miles from the old house you knew, to live here. It’s very pleasant here, do you live around here too?”

           “Yes, about forty minutes from here. I can’t believe this! Is the cat yours? I just gave her a name: Dovey.”

         “Cute, her name is actually Windy. At least that’s what I’ve been calling her for a year now. (Tammy, can you help with these customers? Thanks!) I don’t know where she lives, but she comes in two or three evenings a week.”

         “Well, she practically dragged me here! I’m glad she did though. Do you think we could catch up sometime?”

          “Yes! I have some time right now actually. (Tammy, I’m going to take my break.) Let’s sit down.”

They found a comfortable booth, and sat across from each other.

        “So, Jim, you quit your band?”

“Yes, they wanted to play for a kid’s birthday in their backyard, and I couldn’t compromise my standards, ha ha! No, the usual, creative differences.” 

“On a completely unrelated note, do you like spanish guitar, Monica?”

“I love it, actually. Barcelona Nights is my favorite song of all time.”

“Why did we ever break up, again?”

“We were going to be really long-distance for at least four years, remember? Then we just lost touch, maybe because my parents like to move around. What’s the name of your band?”

“Well, it was The Turnabouts. I don’t know why. They picked the name before I joined. Anyway, enough about me. So, about Windy or ‘Dovey’ as I’ve affectionately known her for about ten minutes. Where did she go?”

“I honestly don’t know. I think she lives on the streets. She’s a free spirit. She gets in and out as she pleases. Um, why are you staring at me like that?”

“Monica, you’re even more beautiful now than you were as a senior!”

“Aww, well Jim you haven’t changed much either, still so handsome, maybe a little more wisdom in those eyes?”

“Hopefully that’s all true. I’ll bring it up to the next band I join, maybe.”

“Haha, and still got your sense of humor!”

“Monica, maybe I’m being too forward but- are you seeing anyone?”

“No, I just broke up with someone three months ago. One of those easy decisions, where I never looked back.”

“He sounds like a loser.”

“He was. Good looking, but I didn’t like the way he talked, you know, his voice. On top of that, he let a female friend move in with him as a new roommate right after I told him we should take things slow. When he wouldn’t let me meet the female friend, or deny that she was interested in him, I broke up with him. My only regret is that I didn’t do it sooner. Good riddance.”

“Wow! I’m so glad you’re free of him! You know, I’ve dated people too, but never like how we were, nothing lasting. Oh, there you are Windy.”

The tabby was wrapping herself around Monica’s legs, and then Jim’s, back and forth. 

“This cat is a genius I think. What a way to salvage a bad day!” Jim gushed.

“It really does seem meant to be that you would find me here. I take it you’re not seeing anyone Jim?”

“Monica, can I see you again?”

“Yes, I would love that!”