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By Root 313 0

of taking out my box of Honey Nut Cheerios since the sight of it might give Attila a carbohydrate craving and cause him to eat several bowls of the stuff, then feel obliged to purge, take laxatives, and run ten extra miles to prevent the Cheerios from adding ounces to his riding weight. All of this would make me feel horribly guilty, and I have enough guilt in my life as it is. I feel guilty sleeping with Attila when Ed’s still in my blood. I feel guilty because my father’s dead and I’m alive. I feel guilty over Ratso, a cat I had back when I used to drink too much. I left the cat with a roommate when I got carted off to rehab and the roommate abandoned him while I was two hundred miles away and detoxing. It was the only time I had truly homicidal feelings for another human. Then it all just turned to guilt. And I don’t need any more guilt. Right now or ever. I decide against the Cheerios and opt for making poached eggs. I know Attila will eat one.

I get the egg carton out of the fridge and, even though I fed the cats not ten minutes ago, Stinky thinks he’s starving. He meows, then actually rises up on his hind legs and tries to swat my hand. This is quite a feat considering that he weighs close to twenty pounds and has an enormous belly. He looks like an acrobatic Buddha. I try to distract him from his alleged hunger by giving him a catnip mouse but he’s not interested. He goes to lie under the kitchen chair and shoots me withering glances.

I boil water, then gently drop eggs into it. One of the eggs flops and the yolk breaks. I can’t say that I have strong culinary skills. I grew up in a house full of animals, and my sister, Chloe, and I ran wild with the dog pack while our parents worked. As a result, Chloe and I are great at taking care of animals, but not so good at things like cooking or cleaning.

“You’re cooking?”

I turn around and find Attila, freshly showered with a towel wrapped around his waist. His arms and torso are so stunningly fit that I nearly lose control of the last egg I’m attempting to drop into the water.

“I’m poaching some eggs,” I say, turning back around and taking care not to let the egg break.

“You got a poacher?” he asks, coming to stand at my side.

“What’s that?”

“You know, a gizmo you put the eggs in so they poach elegantly.”

“No, I guess I don’t,” I say, contemplating the notion of poaching eggs elegantly.

Attila smiles and apparently finds it appealing that I don’t have a poacher. He reaches for me and I drape my arms around his waist, savoring his narrowness. Ed is thin but nearly a foot taller than Attila. He doesn’t feel narrow. In fact, I don’t remember what he feels like and this probably isn’t the moment to try remembering.

“The eggs will burn,” I say, pulling back from Attila.

“I don’t think poached eggs can burn, but okay,” he says, relinquishing his grip on me.

I get plates from the cupboard and start scooping eggs out, managing to break another one in the process. Yolk oozes onto the cheerful floral motif of the plate which, I believe, was a hand-me-down from my best friend, Jane, who is perpetually upset by my lack of kitchen accoutrements. Jane is hardly the queen of kitchen-wares, but she firmly believes in a certain amount of household civility that I just don’t possess. Whenever there’s a gift-giving occasion, Jane gives me kitchen items as opposed to the frivolous baubles I’m partial to.

“You’re a veritable household goddess.” Attila points at the oozing yolk then kisses my neck. “I’m going to get dressed,” he adds.

I turn to watch him walk away. He has no ass to speak of, but that’s fine.

I put the plates on the kitchen table, set cutlery and paper towel napkins out. Stinky is still scowling at me from under the chair so I get down on all fours and scratch him under the chin. After about ten seconds he gives a reluctant purr. I’m not sure what’s distressing him more: not being fed again or Attila. Stinky doesn’t approve of my boyfriends. Though he vaguely tolerated Ed, he has no use for Attila and refuses to come into the bedroom to sleep when Attila is around.