The Art of Eating In - Cathy Erway [30]
“Let’s do it,” I said.
We decided to turn off the lights in the living room and hallway, thinking it might encourage a calmer mood. Taking our beers along with us, we headed for the nook. It was imperative to stay silent so that the cat wouldn’t know our whereabouts. We quietly moved aside some boxes and a chair that were crowding the nook and got settled in.
We sat there for five minutes, tuning in for any sound of the cat coming near. I took a slow sip from my beer. The only sounds in the whole apartment were from little waves of beer every time a bottle was tilted to someone’s mouth. This was ridiculous, I thought. My first dinner party had turned into some strange urban safari with very dangerous wildlife prowling around. I tried hard not to laugh. Then Richard’s eyes widened. Sitting across from me, he had the clearest view of the hallway.
“He’s coming,” he mouthed. A minute or two passed. I narrowed my eyes at Richard’s, as if to ask, “Are you sure?”
Very softly, the cat stepped into view. He stopped. I was afraid he might pounce. We turned our gazes to each other, the ceiling, anywhere but at Dracula. Out of my peripheral vision, I saw the cat slowly lift a paw and take a hesitant step. Again he stopped. He turned to face the four of us for a moment, as if trying to place who we were. This is it, I thought. We were like sitting ducks in that nook. I thought of all the scratches and puncture wounds on my shins and tried to imagine how they would look on arms, neck, and face. Finally, he took another few steps and sauntered casually into Erin’s bedroom.
Everyone looked at me with bulging eyes. I could read their expressions instantly: Shut the door behind him now!
I tiptoed toward the door. I had to reach into Erin’s room to grab the knob, then swing it back toward me to close the door. A swish of air hit my face as it swung shut, trapping the cat inside.
We all erupted with a cheer.
“Oh, my God ... finally!” Sam sighed, lifting herself from the floor wearily. Ben’s face looked completely drained, as if he’d been holding his breath for the last five minutes. Maybe he had been.
I flipped the lights back on. We put on some music. I cleared the finished plates from the coffee table.
“Thanks a lot for dinner; it was really good,” Richard said.
I shrugged. It would have been better with the basil, I thought.
Whoops, and maybe dessert. For some reason, the notion of dessert had completely slipped my mind in planning the dinner. And with that, I made a mental note of hostessing rule number three: Guests might appreciate more than a piece of chocolate or a leftover cookie for dessert after a dinner party. For the time being, though, I took another beer out of the fridge.
Standing around the cat-free living room, we all shared another toast.
“To many happy not-eating-out nights. Hopefully none of them like this one,” Ben offered.
“To Erin, for taking care of Dracula,” said Richard.
“And me, for living with him,” I added.
“And you said that he never attacks Erin?” Sam said.
I nodded. I’ll never understand cats.
As the empty beer bottles piled up in the bin, metal caps crowded the tabletop, and we continued to chat, our conversations the rest of the night somehow never ventured far from Dracula.
“I’m going to have to get Amazing to come over here and show up Dracula,” said Richard.
“Stop, you’ve already said that three times,” Sam said, rolling her eyes.
When they were finally ready to start their long walk home, Ben and I accompanied Sam and Richard to the door.
“So... should we do this again?” I asked jokingly.
“Only if I bring Amazing,” said Richard.
“No, definitely, though. The dinner was awesome.” Sam smiled.
We said good night. I looked on sadly after the door was closed.
“So they had the night of the cat,” I mused.
“Yep,” Ben said. Noticing that I hadn’t been smiling, he added, “But dinner was very good.”
I frowned, knowing that it hadn’t been all that I’d hoped. Ben gave me a little hug.
Later, as I thought about all the things I could have done better, I had