Catching Feelings

I never thought buildings could evoke a feeling of intimidation within me, but here I was, intimidated by a building. I was starting to deeply regret spending those extra minutes after work in watching makeup tutorials rather than trying to look more presentable, more put together, more pet-sitter worthy. Though, to be fair, I didn’t think the address would lead me to such a fancy avenue.

The cab that drove me here sped down the street, eliminating any thought I had about retracting my steps back to the comfort of my small flat. It was more than the building now, but the memories that came with it. I knew what sort of people lived in luxurious apartments, and how they viewed us pet-sitters. But alas, I was promised a hefty amount of money, so I found myself hesitating in running away. Plus, my cab was no longer here.

Inhaling a deep intake of breath to quench my nervousness, I approached the entrance with my head held high in faux confidence, but it melted like a Popsicle under the sun when the man in black glared down at me as if I was a bug.

“You can’t go in without an invitation from one of the residents,” he said, voice gruff and unfriendly.

“Uh, I was invited.” He gave me a once over, one eyebrow poised doubtfully, but I ignored him. “Robin Moore, I was asked to be here. I’m a pet-sitter. Uh, I’m supposed to look out for, um, Mr.Kim’s pet.”

“Wait a moment,” he replied.

“Okay.” I watched him press the earpiece and speak in hushed tones with the person at the other line. When he finished, his gaze swung back in my direction and I smiled. He did not return the gesture.

“I need to see some ID.”

“I have my driver’s license with me.” I reached into my bag and unzipped it, rummaging for the sharp-edged, square card. My fingers closed around my keys, my lip gloss, then around the desired object. “Here you go,” I said, handing it to him.

He took the ID from me and examined it while I stood slightly shivering in the cold. His eyes lifted up and down, leaving my face only to compare it with the photo plastered at the corner. I thought he was being rather dramatic. I mean, what kind of people lived here that required all this precaution? But I kept my mouth shut because I learned on many occasions that my ideas weren’t always appreciated.

“Do you know where to go from here?” He asked.

“Sixth floor, apartment number 2,” I relied the instructions I received from Mr. Kim himself in the form of a short text message.

“Don’t wander around,” the guard said, passing me back my ID.

“I may be a pet-sitter,” I said, stuffing the ID back in the labyrinth of my bag. “But I’m professional.”

He smirked. “Of course.”

Rather than crossing my arms and glaring at him as I had originally planned, I pushed the glass door open and slipped in what seemed to be too fancy to be considered a hall. The floor was certainly made of an expensive wood that shone under the soft light emitting from the chandeliers hung overhead. What captured my eye the most, however, was the French landscape paintings adorning the dark-red walls, traveling up the carpeted set of stairs. The latter led to another set of double doors, but it was too far out of my sight to determine what existed behind those closed doors.

“Excuse me, may I help you?”

I snapped out of my daze and glanced at the reception desk where the voice came from. A woman of small stature and the brightest blue eyes I have ever seen was staring at me, awaiting my response. “No, thank you. I know my way around,” I replied. “Sixth floor shouldn’t be hard to find when there’s an elevator.”

She laughed a little, much to my relief. “All right then.”

I took the empty elevator up to the sixth floor and stepped out into a long, carpeted hallway. It was so clean I almost considered taking off my shoes, but I refrained from doing so as anyone was yet to accuse me of wearing them, not that I met anyone during my short time of being there. There were two doors, one at my right and the other to my far left, and they were both numbered. Thus, it didn’t take much of my time to find the apartment I was looking for.

So far, I had only came across two of the staff working in the building, alas I was yet to run into a resident. As I stood behind the closed door, I contemplated for a brief moment the kind of people that lived here. But since hypothesizing wasn’t bringing any results, I decided to suck it up and knock.

The door opened a second later. A woman with short brown hair and business attire stood at the other side, her eyes kind but calculating. “You must be the pet-sitter.”

I smiled nervously, fiddling with the threads sticking out of my worn out bag. “Yes. I’m Robin. You must be Mrs. Kim?” Though the text message I received was signed by a Mr rather than Mrs, after being greeted by a woman I decided to brush it off as a typo.

She stood aside and gestured for me to get in. “I’m Sandra, actually,” Sandra said, balancing the stack of folders in one arm to capture my hand in a firm handshake. “Mr. Kim’s personal assistant. Did you have any troubles finding the place?”

“I took a cab.”

She smiled, nodding once. “Good call. Please leave your shoes by the door and follow me.”

I did as told and trailed after her across the soft floor. Even my new socks felt coarse in comparison. While Sandra pointed out rooms and what their role was, I was preoccupied with admiring just how nice the apartment was as a whole. Nice didn’t even begin to cover how expensive the furniture was, but, despite giving a sense of desolation, it was cozy. My judgment could be clouded by a weakness for minimalist interior designs, but my opinion remained unchanged.

“And lastly, this is the kitchen,” she said, bringing the short tour into an end. The place was significantly larger than my own, so I was positive Sandra didn’t introduce me to all the rooms. “Mr. Kim rarely uses it, but the fridge should be stacked up to cater to all your needs. You were informed about staying the night?”

“Yes, I was.”

“Good, good.” She sighed inaudibly in what could only be translated to relief. Feeling my eyes on her, she lifted her head and smiled sheepishly. “I must be boring you with my double-checking. I apologize. Since I wasn’t the one to contact you, I feel rather. . . anxious.”

I waved her off with a smile of my own. I hoped I looked reassuring enough to put her at ease. “It’s OK. You’re just doing your job, I understand. I want to meet the pet though, just to make sure it meets the conditions.”

“Yes, of course. Mr.Kim must be kissing her goodbye as we speak.”

We lingered in the kitchen for a few additional minutes. Sandra was typing fervently on her phone while I looked around, trying to imagine the sort of person who occupied all this space. From the few hints I gathered during the tour around the apartment, I concluded that Mr. Kim was three things: Clean, single, and practical. And if my intuition served me right, he had no interest in art or anything of the like, except for perhaps classical music. This deduction was backed up by the stack of vinyl and vintage stereo set up in the living room.

“Assistant Sallow,” A deep voice interrupted my thoughts. A man in a dark blue suit entered the kitchen, his chocolate brown eyes landing on me. I was awe-struck, to put it lightly. “Who are you?”

I opened my mouth and closed it again, the sight of him robbing me of speech. It wasn’t that I was foreign to beautiful men. Being a pet-sitter and a devoted Instagrammer, though had its curses, blessed me with twenty-four-seven food for eyes. But no amount of Korean dramas or Korean bands was enough preparation for how hot this man candy was. With his fair, glowing skin and dark, yet soft hair, I felt like I was in the presence of Adonis. Note that I was donned in my ripped skinny jeans and faded, worn out flannel shirt. Cue the blush of embarrassment.

“Robin Moore,” Sandra replied for me. I decided it was best to leave the talk to her since she was less prone to stuttering than I was. “She’s the pet-sitter you contacted last night.”

“I thought you were a man,” Mr.Kim replied, a perfectly-plucked, sharp eyebrow raised in confusion.

“Mr. Kim,” Sandra started.

“It’s ok.” I cut her off. “The name could be a bit misleading.” Though he was the first person to be misled. That, or he was the first out of many to express it.

“I see,” he said, but he had already lost interest in the subject. “I trust Assistant Sallow showed you the place?”

“She has.”

“Have you explained Giselle’s chart to her?”

“I did,” Sandra replied, pocketing her phone. “We must leave soon. Otherwise, we risk missing the flight.”

“We certainly don’t want that.” Mr.Kim crossed his arms, the suit tightening around his biceps. I tried not to stare too much. Keyword: tried. “If you face any troubles, don’t hesitate to call me on my personal number. I doubt you’ll need to, however. Giselle is an easy cat to deal with.”

“I think I can handle her,” I started, my lips quirking up in confidence. Pets were my field of expertise. Perhaps not by choice, but I was still proud of how smoothly I can handle most of them. But then his words dawned on me, and I felt my nose starting to itch. “I’m sorry, did you say cat?”

“I certainly didn’t say dog,” replied Mr.Kim.

“No, no, no. This must be a mistake,” I said, laughing uneasily. My throat had already started prickling, itching, and I resisted the urge to scratch my neck. “My contact is filed under Other. There are cat carers, then there are dog carers, then there are Others, which is me.”

“I requested cat carers,” Mr. Kim explained with an air of calmness I didn’t possess half of. “But was declined because of short in workers. As I didn’t have a lot of time to search for another pet-sitting organization, I requested Other.”

“I can’t pet-sit your cat,” I replied urgently, my voice raising in both panic and frustration. My eyes felt itchy, and those I didn’t resist the urge to rub until tears started to stream down my cheeks. God, why was I affected so much when the damn cat wasn’t even in the same room I was in? No doubt it was one of those cats that shed too many furs. “I’m allergic.”

“Giselle is unlike any other cat. You’ll like her, I’m sure.”

“That’s not the problem here! I can’t just love her and Accio, gone my allergy.”

“Actually,” begun Mr. Kim, staring at me as if I was some mad women. There was pity in his eyes, but I doubted it was over my allergy. “Accio is a summoning spell.”

“I think it was a mistake contacting Robin when she is clearly filed under Other,” Sandra said with sympathy. Good thing she interfered. I was a word away from turning into a real mad woman. “Her allergy can’t be altered by her feelings for cats.”

“I’ll pay you double,” Mr. Kim said, ignoring Sandra’s words of wisdom. Though, to be fair, I was starting to ignore them myself after those beautiful words left his pink lips.

I stopped rubbing my eyes. “That’s tempting. Very, very tempting, but I can’t accept it. I’m not near the damn cat and my throat is already clogged up. I think I’ll die if we’re in the same room.”

Mr. Kim glanced down at his wristwatch impatiently. “It is far too late now to contact another pet-sitter, wait for them to arrive, and explain everything from scratch. It’s just a night, Mrs. Moore. And as I explained, Giselle is not a difficult cat. She’ll ignore you for the bigger part of the night, and doubt she’d enter a room you’re in.”

I let his words turn and turn in my head, but what I was really thinking about was his willingness to pay double. Yes, it went against my work ethics. Pretty sure it went against my contract as well, but what my boss didn’t know wouldn’t kill him. And by how desperate Mr. Kim sounded, though he was doing a good job in hiding it, I doubted he would press charges against me for exploiting his situation.

“All right,” I said at last. “I’ll pet-sit your cat for double the amount. You swear she won’t approach me?”

“You have my word,” he replied.

Mr. Kim and Sandra’s departure after that was efficient and orderly. Sandra had to check with me twice if it was really okay to leave me with Giselle when I was allergic, but I was quick to assure her that it wouldn’t be terrible if I kept my distance. She didn’t believe me because of my spasmodic reaction earlier, but couldn’t argue when I was already bought.

I closed the front door and walked back to the living room, imagining what I could achieve with all the money - which wasn’t much, considering I was three knees deep in debt. But it didn’t matter if I couldn’t buy nice clothes or afford eating anything but rice and tuna for the next three months when I could get rid of the burden resting on my shoulders.

Although it should not come as a surprise, I was fairly disappointed to find out that, by Sandra’s definition, a stacked fridge only contained a copious amount of healthy food. I’ve never seen so much green in my life, and my mother was a health freak throughout my upbringing. Dragging my feet back to the living room, I collapsed on the comfortable couch and dialed the familiar number, replying my takeout order out of memory.

It wasn’t long before the phone rang again.

“Hello?”

“A delivery for Mr. Kim?”

I recognized the voice instantly. “Yup, that’s for me. Let him in.”

“No can do. I only take orders from one person.”

I sighed and performed a half roll, falling on the floor with a loud thud. That was how much lazy I was. Pain over physical labor. “I’m coming down to get it,” I said and ended the call angrily.

Personally, I didn’t care that I was in my pajamas when a pizza the size of the moon was waiting for me mere steps away. But the man in black didn’t refrain from expressing his displeasure towards my grey, stained tracksuit with a raise of his eyebrow. I knew I came to that building to work, but with all this eyebrow-raising as if I was an idiot, I felt rather attacked.

“Want some?” I asked, balancing the square box in one hand and giving the delivery guy the money with the other.

“My line of work doesn’t allow me to eat on duty,” he replied, still as gruff and as unfriendly as ever.

I shrugged. “Suit yourself.” It may have sounded childish coming from a twenty-three years old woman, but my offer seemed to rile him up, which gave me a wave of pleasure. When the elevator came for me, I didn’t waste any time in stuffing my face with double-cheesed goodness.

I took the short period of the journey up to the sixth floor to reflect on my actions. By actions, I didn’t mean the childlike behavior towards Man In Black, who I was yet to catch his name. I doubted I needed to, seeing this will be my last time coming here since Mr. Kim’s pe(s)t was a cat.

So yes, maybe I had a strong dislike for the furry animals. Many men were entertained by this fact. Because, how would I start my cat-lady life if I hated cats in the first place? It seemed even in our age the concept of dog-lady was still too wild to fully grasp.

The elevator dinged open. At the other side stood my worst nightmare: My father.

Just kidding about the father bit. But really, my worst nightmare was standing where it shouldn’t be. I assumed that ball of white fur was Giselle who, by some miracle or other, managed to waltz out of the apartment. I closed the pizza box and stepped out of the metal box.

“Go back inside,” I said, naively expecting her to follow my hissed orders.

She stared at me for a moment longer then proceeded in licking herself. Spiders started to race across my eyes and up my throat, and I knew it wasn’t going to be long until I was a sneezing mess of tears and running nose.

I tried to lure her back into the apartment with crumbs of pizza, shooed her off, pretended I was going to kick her. . . but nothing worked. That damned cat sat unmoving on the carpeted floor, her tail going back and forth, back and forth. She wasn’t even looking at me, but I still felt judged.

In hindsight, the idea of calling a cleaner and nicely asking them to throw the cat in its apartment should have occurred to me. It also should have occurred to me to decline the job, no matter how tempting the offer sounded, especially coming from someone as handsome as Mr. Kim. But at that moment, all I thought about was Mr. Kim filing a lawsuit on my poor ass. The result of that speculation was not an affair between us - rivaling, clashing forces in a fancy court. I should probably start writing a script for this drama. It would sell, I’m sure.

What I did next was something I never expected I would do, something I hadn’t done in years. Not until I found out about my allergy at least. I picked up the demonic creature in my free arm and walked back with it to the apartment.

The result of that wasn’t pretty either. Mr. Kim’s reaction was a living prove.