Nate's silver house key was clenched between my bone-white fingers as Sam pulled into the sandy-hazed parking lot. It was an overcast and cool morning, cool for Florida anyway, but the calm atmosphere didn't squash my anxious interior. Today I had my first job. I was feeling a little silly for considering one weekend of cat-sitting an elderly feline work, but it felt like it. It was something, at least and if the little victories didn't count then I had none, and so they did. 

"Thanks again for the ride Sam," I said as we lightly jolted to a halt in between two blurred lines, white and decaying from the outside-in.

"No prob. Give me a call if you need anything, okay? I'll pick you up Sunday unless Nate gives you a ride. Whichever." She winked; I ignored it.

I lifted my quilted beach bag, filled to the brim with clothes, snacks, and toiletries. "I will. Thank you... Actually, um, can you wait to leave until I'm inside? I'm a little nervous about running into Moose."

Despite not being on the same strip of townhouses, the men's homes were still within sight of each other and it made me uneasy. My knees had the nervous jitters, running reflexively in place as if he was still behind me and I wished that I could forget the angry way that he'd said my name that night.

"Of course," said Sam with a reassuring smile.

My Gucci flip-flops slapped and crunched across the asphalt as I near-jogged, bag slung over shoulder and sunglasses on. I was incognito apart from the big red target on my scalp. My shaky hands were fiddling with the scratched bronze-toned locks when I heard footsteps trail and then stop behind me. I held my breath, terrified. 

"June! Hey!" 

Holy shit, it's just Benji... thank goodness.

"Oh! Hey there!" I feigned excitement as I turned over my left shoulder, just in time to see Sam's boat of a car drive away. 

At least it isn't Moose... 

"How are you? I'm sorry that I missed you leaving the other morning! I took way too much melatonin and passed the fuck out," Benji said with a chuckle, clutching his rattling tummy with outstretched fingers. 

I guess Moose didn't say anything either...

"Oh! Uh, yeah! I'm fine, yeah."

Concern flashed suddenly and clearly across the Korean man's face. A strand of black hair hung in front of one studying eye, and I cursed myself for stuttering, for giving myself away.

"So, um," Benji said as he tucked both hands into his tan sweatshirt pocket. "Whatcha doing?"

"Cat-sitting for... a friend."

"Cool, cool." He nodded emphatically. "If you want me and Moose are hanging out toni- "

"Oh, no! That's alright, really. It's um, a super old cat, so I need to be here and um, there's cameras so y'all can't come here. Darn, right? I don't want to get Moose's... hopes up, so do you think you could... not mention that I'm here?" My voice got higher and higher the longer that I rambled and I was having a hard time looking Benji in the eyes. He saw right through me and we both knew it, but the panic was setting in. 

He can't know that I'm here... 

"June, what's going on?" He pressed.

"Really don't want to talk about it right now," I near-whispered. Although the event had felt traumatic in the moment, I was still surprised to find myself struggling with it. I'd been trying to bury the memory, and I thought that it was working.

Guess not. 

"Fuck, alright. You've got me worried now, but I promise I won't tell him; can we talk soon, though?" Benji's eyebrows were knit together and his eyes were soft. He almost looked hurt. 

"For sure. Well um, I really better get in there..." I vaguely gestured towards the still-locked door with the key. 

"Oh! Yeah, of course. See ya soon, I hope?" 

"Yeah." 

He gave a nervous, close-mouthed smile before turning heel back towards his own front door, red and watching from a catty-corner. A black grocery bag hung from his stiff elbow, rustling in the morning air and moving with his speed-walking body. So much was left unspoken, for now at least and I took a deep breath to calm my nerves, desperate for relief from the tightness in my chest. It helped a little. 

With haste, I made my way inside, careful to close the front door quickly behind me so as not to give a certain feline the opportunity for escape. 

"Mrow."

At my feet, there Snowman was, wrapping a feather-duster tail around his snow-white body. "Hey there, bud," I greeted with a smile and squatted knees. He blinked his crystalline eyes slowly as he rubbed the flat top of his skull into me, vibrating with unheard joy. I tried not to look at the camera under the TV, but at least Nate said he wouldn't have service the whole time. I took a quick scan of the townhouse for other cameras and found one other on his desk, but none upstairs. 

So up the carpeted, dimly lit stairs I went. 

It smelled like detergent and chewing gum and there was a visible stiffness to my body as I reentered his bedroom, shuffling my bare feet on the tan carpet.  I felt horrifically out of place but I couldn't help but thumb through his impressive, crated record collection. A familiar discography lay at the top and I hummed: Fleetwood Mac's Rumours, but when I opened the sleeve it was empty. I wandered over to his cherry wood three-drawer dresser, where a record player and speakers were arranged like a shrine. I turned it on. Bass and snare shots rung through the cramped room and my heart swelled with recognition: Dreams. I missed my sock monkey, but I danced anyways. I swayed and swung; sang and sung like no one was watching, throwing arms and passion around for my entertainment and my entertainment only. 

My phone started to ring. 

"Hello?" I hummed with my eyes closed, swaying. 

"Hey, June," an amused voice said back over a wind tunnel and I smacked forehead with my palm.  

Nate! 

"Hey, what's up?" I chirped as I scurried back over to the record player to turn it down. I hadn't adjusted the volume, but it was so loud that it lightly shook the tall walls of the room. 

Nate must be deaf, too. 

"Just um, forgot to take the camera out of the bedroom so I was calling to let you know there's one by the window. Not to kill your dance party on my behalf, or anything," he said and it was strange hearing a playful edge to his deep voice, especially directed towards me. My heart raced, but I tried to go along with it.

"You're just jealous of my sick ass moves and you know it." The words were confident, but my tone was not and I cleared my dry and cracking throat, crossing my free arm against my chest. "But um, thanks for letting me know. I'll cover it up to spare your eyes. You already have a deaf cat; can't have you going blind." 

Laughter. I made Nate laugh. 

I made Nate laugh? 

"Really? Was I that bad?" My cheeks burned from smiling and Snowman ran up the stairs with a chirp and the grip of nails on carpet. Our 'friendship' felt like it was off to a decent start, to my surprise. 

"No, not really."

His words sucked the life out of the conversation. 

Silence. 

Nate cleared his throat. "Well, uh. I'll briefly have service in the morning around nine but I should be losing it soon. Written instructions are on my desk and you can help yourself to anything you find in the kitchen... Thanks for watching him, June. I um, appreciate it."

I wanted to cry, but I couldn't figure out why. "No problem. Thanks for trusting me with the dude; he's pretty cool."

He huffed a warm, but unamused laugh at my words. "Alright well... talk to you later then?" 

"Yeah." 

With upstairs surveillance finally ceased, I was able to settle in for the rest of the day. The air inside was cool and dry, but the hot summer rain outside brought me peace. Pajama pants and kitty cuddles, squeeze-up treats and cherry popsicles. It was nice to have some privacy, despite the two cameras downstairs that I was still trying to forget about. I'd never lived alone before.  I wondered what it was like to be so independent and living in his space, I leaned into the uncontrollable pull towards wanting to know him. A small unfinished bookshelf downstairs had my full attention; I wanted to know what he read. 

The cracked paperback books were aged and loved by fingers and eyes, a telltale sign of page turners. There I found the classics: Bram Stoker, Charles Dickens and the complete collection of Edgar Allen Poe. It looked more like Sam's collection than I would have thought, and I landed on The Outsiders, because I'd never heard of it, and because Patrick Swayze was on the folded cover. 

Who doesn't love Dirty Dancing? 

Nobody puts Baby in a corner!

Unfortunately for my tear ducts, the similarities between the two stories began and ended at Patrick Swayze. Morning turned to afternoon turned to me sobbing into Snowman's silky fur, coming to terms with my own mortality and the ways that I was blessed, even now. I was healthy, I had two fantastic Best Friends, and I was smart enough to make it if I could figure out how to believe in myself. So I decided to. 

"Nothing Gold Can Stay," was as beautiful as it was a warning. Life and youth were fleeting and if I didn't enjoy them while I could, I'd never have the opportunity. 

Dawn is only once a day and summer only once a year...

I committed silently to making this June a golden one. 

Snowman took a massive shit, so I scurried off to scoop his litterbox, pinching my scrunched nose between thumb and forefinger.