In the Year of the Cat (Queen or Freddie Mercury Fanfic)

63. See You in a Few, Part Two

As much as I wanted to collapse into tears there on the sidewalk, I didn't. My throat constricted, yes. My eyes watered, yes. My newly stitched up heart again began to come apart at the seams, yes. But I didn't cry.  When I could see the Rolls no more, I turned with a stiff upper lip and went back into the flat.

Oscar alone had stayed behind when I let the other cats outside to mill about the back garden.  His green, feline eyes followed me as I walked further inside.  On impulse I bent down and scooped him up into my arms.  He lightly scratched at my shirt, his claws snagging on the fabric. 

"Put those away, sweetie," I whispered.  "If I'm leaving, he's not going to be able to return any clothes that are ripped up."

Even now, I was so afraid to consistently commit myself to one or the other.  Everything was an "if."  If I leave him, if I stay, if I can take that one irreversible leap of faith, or if I instead prove a coward.  All these "ifs"- and time was running out.

First things first, however.  No matter what I chose to do, I couldn't leave a mess.  Getting busy helped to clear my mind anyhow.  So I set Oscar down and trotted upstairs to strip our unmade bed. 

I drew the curtains back, flooding the room with light.  As if it wasn't apparent enough in the dark, the morning sun clearly revealed how much havoc two days' worth of sex could wreak upon unsuspecting sheets.  In spite of myself, I had to stifle a little smile as I pulled the utterly destroyed satin covers off the mattress, carted them into the laundry room, and threw them into the washer, starting the cycle immediately.  A few clean clothes were in the basket; I folded them.  Then I washed the dishes, letting them drain and air dry beside the sink.  I looked around for any other household chore I could do, but Ms. Cottage was a thorough woman, and she would be coming in tomorrow anyway.

I looked at the clock.  9:45.

I felt like I was on Death Row, sitting in my cell, twiddling my thumbs while I waited for my name to be called.  The silence about me was wearing on my nerves.  Perhaps a little Magic Mirror music would settle me.

But when I searched for my Android, it was nowhere to be found.  Last time I saw it, it was sitting on the shelf by the intercom, playing John Hiatt.  I didn't remember doing anything with it after that.  I did find my charger, which was plugged into the kitchen wall, but no phone.  I plucked it from the outlet, then kept looking. 

Rummaging through one of the drawers, I came across Freddie's little planner, the same in which he had written this morning.  There seemed to be something between the pages- something black.  I opened it, but to my disappointment found it was only a black ballpoint.

Rats! I muttered inwardly.  Where could it have gone?  Did one of the cats drag it off somewhere?

Just before I closed the planner again, the name "Phyllis" caught my eye.  Frowning, I squinted at Freddie's wild cursive- and went pale:

Phyllis 8:00 at the R

I swallowed and closed my eyes. So that's what he was doing tonight. He was meeting Phyllis, code name for David, at the Ritz Carlton, at eight o'clock.  Funny, how he didn't give me any details; all he said was that he'd be home late. 

Don't think it.  Don't think it.  It's not going to help, don't think it.

But I thought it.  It was such an obvious conclusion, I couldn't help myself:

It's already happening. The love is running out. Dr. C was right.

Suddenly I felt like I was choking; I put a hand to my throat, unable to breathe.  I had already slipped in his eyes.  One day.  Just one whole day, he let me borrow all his love, and here he went again right back to old habits- and old lovers.  Oh, God. 

"I have love enough for all of you." The words burned in my ears.  Minsy's words, true; the cherub could have been lying.  I didn't want to believe Freddie said that to him- but still, wasn't that such a Freddie thing to say?