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Cyrus never enjoyed the month of April. Usually, the other months would stick with one weather — cold, hot, or warm. But where he lived in April, the weather would go from a bitter morning to a sizzling, crimson evening. Cyrus hated unpredictable things. Why couldn't April make up its mind?
He wasn't intrigued enough to investigate, but he wondered if Fleur didn't like April either. Cyrus used to hear Fleur heartily play Clair de Lune on the piano late at night. It grew overly repetitive and tiresome, but it was a sign that everything was normal. Cyrus used to hear the familiar noises on television when Anthony was off work. Occasionally, he would bounce on Anthony's lap and doze off, only to be woken up by Fleur's belly laughs.
Where was Anthony, anyway?
"No, not the kitchen," Fleur scolded as Cyrus attempted to sneak through her legs. "Go away, Cy."
He let out a meow. He didn't like secrets.
"I said go away!" Another whine escaped him, but he scampered off.
Fleur never raised her voice in March. Cyrus couldn't wait for April to be over.
He leaped on a swivel chair and curled up. He was snuggling on top of a red Led Zeppelin t-shirt. It smelled like Anthony after eating french toast for breakfast. He purred to himself at the memory.
The doorbell suddenly rang, followed by two brief knocks. Cyrus' head immediately rose, curious. Fleur hurried out of the kitchen with her phone in her hand. She didn't seem like she knew who was outside at this hour. Smoothening her hair and clothes, she rushed to the front door.
The person on the other side was blocked by Fleur's head. Cyrus was eager to know who it was, but he first listened to the voices.
"Hi, who are you?" This was Fleur's voice.
"Hello," the other voice greeted. "I apologize for coming here so early, but I'll only be a minute. My name is Avery Gorman, and I live across the street. I was a former student of your husband, Mr. McWayne."
Silence.
"I'm really sorry for your loss. He was an amazing professor and we all miss him very, very much."
Cyrus couldn't take the suspense any longer. He jumped on the floor and slinked towards Fleur, making her flinch. She nodded slowly at Avery with a crinkled smile, grasping the door handle. "Thank you. I truly appreciate it. So much."
Avery continued before Fleur was able to shut the door. "And, Mrs. McWayne, I actually came by to give you this." She held out a bag covered in lilac polka dots. "Mr. McWayne told us your favorite color is purple. I hope you like it."
Fleur cautiously took the box and thanked her. "What's inside?" she questioned, examining it.
She smiled shyly. "Mainly food, including something for your cat."
Cyrus perked up.
Fleur closed the door. Cyrus nuzzled against the back of Fleur's leg, pleading for the bag with the unfamiliar scent. But she ignored him, heading over to the couch. Cyrus noticed she never sat on the right side of the couch anymore. That was Anthony's spot. He decided to do the same and sat right in the middle, with Fleur on the left side of him.
"Cyrus, please get off the couch."
There was no chance he would do such a thing. He remained patiently for Fleur to reach into the bag.
He heard her sigh. "I know what you want. You want what's inside," Fleur muttered. "I'll give you your food, and you'll get off the couch. Understand?"
Of course, he couldn't understand, but he assumed she would reward him when she dug her hand inside the bag. He meowed and flicked his tail, satisfied. Though it was difficult to resist the urge to sniff the bag. She opened a can of salmon, standing up to place it in his bowl. Cyrus instantly followed behind her, meowing persistently. The smell was much too heavenly for him to wait. Why couldn't Fleur just let him devour the entire can?
"There. Are you happy? Will you leave me alone now?" Cyrus nudged her. "You're too affectionate for my liking. I thought cats would leave me alone. That's the only reason why I agreed with..." She trailed off when she was about to say her husband's name.
Cyrus paid no attention to her words. He stuck his face inside the bowl, nibbling the salmon before taking larger bites. When he sensed his owner moving away from him to the stairs, he stopped to watch. Where was she going? Was she going to bring more salmon? That was likely it. He went back to his meal.
A few minutes later, he finished. But where was Fleur? Generally, he wouldn't have noticed. But she had brought him a meal, and she could be hiding a lot more where she was. Better yet, she could be hiding Anthony. With a surge of hope, he scurried upstairs, seeking her scent.
Most of the doors were closed, including Anthony's. Cyrus uttered a sound of skepticism. Anthony never shut his door on him. He felt slightly rattled by his fading smell.
One of the doors creaked open slowly.
"Cyrus?" she whispered.
He crept on the carpet towards her, recognizing his owner's voice. When he made his way inside the room, Fleur shut the door. It was the first time he'd ever been in this room. Often, he'd be pushed away somewhere else when he was even lying down beside it. So of course, his natural impulse was to sniff the room. The walls, the closet, the bed. It wasn't too unfamiliar to him. And it was cozier. He wanted to spend the entire month of April in this room, preferably the closet.
"Alright, get out of there now. We need to talk."
He didn't listen at first, until Fleur waving a treat in her hand caught his eye. "I figured out the truth," she said as Cyrus nibbled her palm. "You only follow me around because you're waiting for Anthony."
Did she just say Anthony? His tail swayed.
"Well he's not going to come back," she said softly. "Let's face it. You don't like me. There's no reason for you to like me. It's pointless. It can't be like this forever."
Tears trickled down her eyes. Cyrus saw it before. He saw it in Anthony's eyes after hearing Fleur play the piano. He'd see it in Fleur's eyes after reading a heartbreaking novel. But why was Fleur crying now? He couldn't understand.
"Do you like me?"
He purred as she stroked his ears. She smiled weakly. "I remember that you always used to sit on Anthony's lap when his favorite show was on. Then it became your favorite too. Sometimes I wanted to bond with you, but I never liked cats. And I guess cats never really liked me either."
Cyrus' eyes fluttered as Fleur's voice gradually muffled. He had no clue what she was saying, but he didn't want her to stop petting. The last time he received that much affection was, well, when Anthony was around. But he wasn't. He rested his head on Fleur's lap and closed his hazel eyes. The room was silent, mellow. His favorite kind of noise.
The last thing Cyrus felt before he fell asleep was a quick kiss behind his ears.
206Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡDHr9U69HGF
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