you came home late

you forgot to buy the cat food again, but you were too tired to make a trip to buy it after a hard day at work. i didn't mind picking it up. i had been from home and was happy to have an excuse to leave the house. we weren't very happy together anymore, and so leaving you alone to pass out on the bed, without having time to make an obligatory pass at me, was a nice escape.

we were in the middle of an indian summer, and the air was still warm and heavy though it was almost midnight. the only supermarket open was a brisk twenty minute walk away, but the heat invited a slow stroll. i took the route under the ginkgo trees. their pungent leaves hadn't fallen yet; they were along a busy boulevard, and in the summer i had pointed out to you how their green fan-shaped leaves had collected a thin film of city grime. "that is what we are breathing!"

when ginkgo leaves fall, they drop at a rapid rate. a friend once told me that they all fall in a period of 24 hours. i believed her for a long time, but later learned that they usually fall within 15 days. she also told me that they smelled awful, and that in Philadelphia there was one ginkgo lined street that she avoided every fall due to the smell. i wanted to see the leaves falling. even though i knew it was a tall tale, i longed to see a shower of yellow leaves dropping at once. when i got to the trees, all the leaves were still attached. i plucked one leaf and scraped the grime from the leaf making one clean path down the stem. the dirt stuck under my fingernail. i dropped the leaf and watched it leisurely twirl to the ground. i grabbed a handful of leaves and stuffed them in my pocket.

i returned home with the cat food. the cat was asleep on your chest facing you. when you breathed in she rose at a slant as if she was about to fall into your open mouth. as you exhaled she resumed a horizontal pattern. i put food in the cat bowl and she opened her eyes lazily. but stayed on your chest. she was your cat from before. when i had first moved in she was jealous of me, and wouldn't come anywhere near me. over the three years we developed a pattern. when you weren't around, i would suffice. if you were there, she wished i would leave.

i climbed up on the bed and stood looking down on you. you didn't wake up. i pulled the leaves from my pockets, raised them high over your head and opened my hands so they pirouetted down onto you. one landed on your chin, under your open mouth. you still didn't wake up. so i lay down on my side of the bed and pretended to sleep.