Charlotte Boyd lived in the Maple Farms apartment complex off of Route Two. The apartment complex was built in the early sixties and was an eyesore. A four-story concrete structure housing close to eighty apartments. Each unit had its own balcony where the outer wall was made up of colored sheet metal, the colors ranging from purple to lime green to a dull yellow. I don't know what the architect could possibly have been thinking.
I found Charlotte's apartment number and dialed it up on the intercom system. After about a minute I heard some static and then what I thought was her voice, but I wasn't sure. I pressed the talk button and announced who I was. Another thirty seconds and I was buzzed in.
When I got to her door I knocked. I heard some movement from behind it and could tell she was using her peephole. The door opened a few inches and I heard her soft voice asking me to come in.
'I have several cats,' she explained in what was barely over a whisper. 'I don't want to leave the door open because they might run out.'
I squeezed through the opening and shut the door behind me. Charlotte was standing in front of me, her large hazel eyes holding steady on mine. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail and she was dressed in jeans and a University of Toronto sweatshirt. She looked younger than when I saw her the day before. She also looked prettier. Her nurse's uniform had hung on her like a curtain. With her jeans on, I could tell her body had more of a definition to it than I would've thought. Also, her eyes didn't seem all that nervous anymore.
'Hi, Charlotte. I was hoping to find you at home.'
'Would you like to sit down?'
Off to the side of the entranceway was a small living room. There wasn't much furniture in it-a small antique-looking chair and a matching loveseat, a coffee table, and a stereo bench with a TV. A neatly arranged stack of magazines lay on the coffee table, and there were books and small knick-knacks on a few built-in shelves. While there wasn't much to the room, it had a nice feel. Charlotte took the antique chair and I sat on the loveseat. On the coffee table was a photograph of three very odd-looking cats, all with pushed-in faces and dour expressions.
Are these yours?' I asked.
'Yes. That's Lady Margarite in the middle. Next to her on the right is Princess Anne, and on the left is Simone.'
For the life of me, I wouldn't have been able to tell one from the other. All three of them looked like carbon copies of each other.
'Three ladies, huh?' I said. I looked around to see whether I could spot any of them.
'They're skittish with strangers,' Charlotte said. 'Could I get you something to drink?'
'No thanks.' I showed her an apologetic smile. 'I've been thinking a lot about you since yesterday. I was hoping I could talk you into taking a ride with me to Burlington and joining me for a late brunch. I know I'm putting you on the spot by showing up like this.'
From the way she hesitated I knew she had already eaten lunch. But she nodded. 'I'd like that, Joe. Let me change clothes and I'll be right with you.'
She disappeared into her bedroom. As I waited I flipped through the magazines on her coffee table and found a couple on cats, one on antiques, another on knitting, and a final one on travel. I thumbed through the travel magazine until I came across an article about Italy. I wasn't entirely kidding Scott Ferguson about wanting to see the world. I was forty years old and had so far seen almost none of it. It struck me that I had never even been in an airplane. As I looked at pictures of the Colosseum in Rome and the canals of Venice, I started daydreaming. With some effort I shook myself out of it and put the magazine down.
I got up and took a look at what she had, on her shelves. There were a number of porcelain figurines; mostly either ballerinas or cats, with a couple of birds mixed in. As far as her books went, there were half a dozen on Victorian England, a handful of what looked like medieval romance novels, and a couple on the Diana and Prince Charles wedding. There were a few other miscellaneous books that you'd probably classify as literary. Out of boredom I had actually read most of them while in jail.
I noticed one of my eyes had started itching like crazy, and as I rubbed it, I saw one of her cats peeking at me from around the corner. I guess it was trying to decide whether I was worth the trouble. Its expression looked even more dour in person. It must've made up its mind that I wasn't, because it darted back around the corner and out of sight.
By this time both my eyes were tearing and my nose had started running. Then I started sneezing. It came out almost like machine-gun fire. Charlotte came running into the room. She had changed into a sweater and a skirt and had pulled her hair out of its ponytail, but with the sneezing and the way my eyes were swelling up I couldn't pay much attention to her. I could tell, though, that she had a worried look on her face.
Between sneezes I told her that I thought I was allergic to her cats.
'I'm so sorry.'
"There's nothing for you to be sorry about.' I stopped to fire off a couple more sneezes. 'I was the one who dropped by out of the blue.' I had to stop again. When I could continue, I told her I was going to buy some allergy medication and that I'd meet her out front in fifteen minutes.
'If we go to the hospital, I can pick you up a sample of a prescription allergy medication that will be more effective than what you can buy over the counter.'
'Okay, sure.'
I was anxious to get out of there. She still needed a few minutes so I told her I'd meet her in the lobby. I just couldn't catch a break. I actually found myself feeling comfortable in her apartment, but it couldn't be that simple – I couldn't be given a few minutes of peace. Something had to screw it up, so of course I had to find myself allergic to her cats. And of course she couldn't just have one. She had to have three of them spreading dander throughout her apartment.
I found a rest room in the lobby and splashed cold water on my face and in my eyes, but it didn't help much. My eyes still felt itchy as hell and my nose was running like a faucet. I went through a dozen paper towels before my nose started to dry out. I forced myself to look in the mirror and couldn't help laughing at what I saw. I looked pathetic. My eyes were almost swollen shut. As it was, I could only keep them open to narrow slits. My nose looked raw from blowing it out with all those paper towels. Here I needed to win Charlotte over in a quick whirlwind romance, and I looked like this? As I said before, I couldn't catch a break.
I found Charlotte waiting for me in the lobby. The concern in her face seemed to have deepened and there was some nervousness back in her eyes.
'I didn't know where you were,' she said. I was trying to wash out my eyes.' I forced a laugh. 'I'll tell you, that hit me pretty hard. I never knew I was allergic to cats before.'
She seemed deep in thought as we walked to my car. When we got there she asked whether she should drive. 'Do you know how to handle a stick shift?' She shook her head.
'Don't worry,' I said. 'I'll be okay driving.'
I put the top down and we headed off towards Bradley Memorial. With the way my eyes had swollen up, it was a struggle keeping them open against the sunlight. They just kept trying to force themselves shut. The fresh air, though, felt good against my face. Somehow, even though I could barely keep my eyes open, I got us to the hospital in one piece. Charlotte got out of the car and told me she'd be right back.
While I waited for her, I spotted Junior leaving the hospital with his two pint-sized miniature versions of himself. He saw me sitting in my car, and as he did, an ugly grin spread across his face. He changed direction and started walking towards me, ignoring his two boys as they punched at each other's arms.
'Well, look who's here,' he said. 'Whatsa matta, Joe, you been crying or something? Big bad world getting you down?'