The Unexpected Visitor Part 1
Sulfur tries to save his buddy.
The street was getting busier. Faint sounds of children playing were slowly being replaced by the monotonous chirping of crickets. Sulfur looked out the window. The apartment was dark, but for a couple of candles glimmering on the table behind him. It was almost time. A lone bird in the distance flying toward dusk reminded him of Icarus. How apt. The park glowed with the warm blanket of orange as it enveloped the buildings around. He was expecting someone.
He shut the blinds halfway through and retreated to the kitchen. He was greeted by the resigned meow of Jackson the cat, whose attempts at attacking the oven had been futile. He heard a gentle ting and nervously glanced over the clock almost concealed by the half-filled coffee cups on the counter. “Alright, time to shine, mister fishy”, he whispered. He opened the oven door to be greeted by the faint aroma of well-cooked salmon. “Looks like a good job!”, he said to the overly excited Jackson, who was now pawing at his knees. “If that tastes as good as it looks, you might be forgiven for the pancake mishap, Sulfur”, Jackson replied.
Last Saturday morning, in a fit of rage, Sulfur had spilled pancake batter all over the cat’s precious little bed, which after a good dry cleaning, still retained the saccharine smell. A few treat runs and passive-aggressive conversations later he had assumed Jackson had come around, but clearly, now he expected to be appeased even more.
Sulfur gently placed the oven tray on the overcrowded counter and began hastily plating. “The sun’s almost down,” he said.
“And the canvas is blank.”
“The subway’s been acting up lately, that’s probably why…”
“Or, you know, she just found this whole thing weird and stood you up.”
Sulfur knew it was entirely plausible. He didn’t say anything. If I were approached by a total stranger in a pizza shop during the early hours of Thanksgiving Eve, would I have even spoken to them? He wondered if him being incredibly forward that night made for a wrong impression. What is the wrong impression anyway? There was no right impression then. It had to be then. And it had to be her.
He lay the two plates on the table. “You get yours when we begin”, he directed Jackson to stop his loud wails of hunger. Always has to be dramatic, like I have starved him for weeks. The candles illuminated the table well, bouncing softly off the satin tablecloth and sparkling through the empty wine glasses. He took out his phone to click a few pictures of his work, adjusting the cutlery slightly to make it look aesthetically pleasing. He was checking the composition in the shot when his phone buzzed.
“I’m outside! What’s your door code?”
“424. I’ll buzz you in.”
“Thanks, see ya!”
Jackson jumped onto the carefully upholstered wingback chair by the bookshelf to get a better look. The apartment looked rather clean. Sulfur was smiling. “She’s downstairs.”
“That’s fortunate! Here’s to hoping she doesn’t have a concealed gun on her… Or a cucumber…”, the cat’s deep voice descended into a whisper with the last few words.
Sulfur briskly walked to the side of the door and pressed the buzzer for his guest. “This just might work. Please try not to mess it up. It might be your only chance.”
“I know, I know.”
He got back to the chair to lift the cat and took a seat, gently placing the cat on his lap. “Purr you little void”, he said, in an uncharacteristically soft voice that he only reserved for people he liked. “It will be over soon.”
“In five hours, to be precise, assuming you don’t misuse your trademark charm you daft-”, Jackson interrupted himself with a satisfied sigh as Sulfur started to rub one of his little triangle ears.
The room felt quiet for a long moment. Bike rings, cicadas, and the occasional car horn had overtaken the pleasant giggles of playing children. The loudest noise, though, was Jackson’s purring, until it was interrupted by the doorbell. Jackson leaped, his fluffy tail almost knocking one of the candles over from the table.
“Eeesh! Now that’s what I call accident aversion, no need to thank me”, Jackson said. Sulfur glared at him for a moment. This little furball. As he rushed to the door, he whispered, “It does not count when you were the one about to cause the accident. Now hush, no funny business until the lady’s gone.”
“That’s what Socrates said”, Jackson replied, with childlike glee in his voice.
He opened the door, almost thrilled, and was about to say “Welc-”
“Hello, Sulfur.”
It felt as if time had stopped. The sounds from the street were gone. The people in the corridor had paused in their tracks. He could see Mrs. Sekira in the distance, one hand stuck in her purse, frozen while fumbling for her apartment keys. Behind Sulfur, Jackson had stopped too, one paw outstretched, his tail forming an ominous question mark. The smile on Sulfur’s face had vanished, as had the glint in his eye.
“I must say I’m not as pleased to see you as you are, me.”
Standing in front of him was a figure almost as tall as him. He wore a sharp navy suit, purple eyes, and a stern smile. He was holding a suitcase. He could have passed for another one of those banker guys that worked a few blocks down the street if not for one incredibly odd feature: one half-open wing connected to his back, matted, and made of something definitely not feathery or soft. The strange man gently shoved Sulfur to the side, made a sound not too different from a tongue click, and unfroze Jackson.
“Did I come in a little too hot, Jackson?”
It was Icarus.
[[The Unexpected Visitor Part 2 is in progress...]]