The Inside Diaries

Balcon

Catticus stared up at her, as if to say, I dare you, his eyes fixed upon hers with a certain unbridled intensity.

"What're you playing at?" she muttered, before turning away to recline her feet in her back balcony, a tropical travel magazine at her finger tips.

Then—

A rustle—

And Catticus was—

"CATTICUS!" the magazine went flying as the feline leapt past the balcony's banister to the next balcony, and the one after that. Seriously? But the cat turned to face her, tail twirling skyward, with a certain nod as if to say, follow me—

And so she did, dressing quickly, from pajamas to something more sensible for the humid weather, ending up on the neighborhood street corner just before nine in the morning. Too early, she thought, as she'd stayed up for various projects the evenings before. She followed his movements many feet above as he leapt and darted—she could barely breathe from watching—until, at last, he landed within a certain side balcony facing the distant water.

Marcella's.

She sighed; she should've known. And who knew if Marcella and Henry were still asleep? Alas, Melanija had no other choice. Making her way to the stuccoed building, she knocked sharply, once, then twice more—the door opened—

"He yours?" The woman gestured to the balcony behind her.

Melanija nodded. "Look, I'm so sorry—he's never done that before—" as the women made their way past the entryway to the rest of the condo, Catticus hopping forth, purring contentedly as he wound his way past their ankles. The writer noticed a new palm front plant at the end of the leftmost hallway, and a certain amount of sunlight, and smiled. The condo was becoming a bright, happy little home—

She paused as Marcella directed her to the balcony, noticing bright pink pieces of melon, and what appeared to be sweetened fruit syrup besides atop a small circular table. "Is that...?" She tilted her head, puzzled.

"Mocktails," Marcella hurried to clarify, an amused twinkle in her eye. "Henry's idea. Fresh fruit for nutrients, but served up in style—" she pointed to the margarita glass.

"I like it."

"Care for a try?"

"Sure—" Mere minutes later, Melanija had her own glass. Sipping, she sighed in bliss. "This is amazing!"

"I know, right? He's great around the kitchen too, you should try his souffles sometime—"

"You're a lucky woman." Melanija twirled her index finger about the glass' rim. "And he's lucky to have you."

"I know. We know," Marcella murmured. "I swear, Catticus must have a sixth sense—"

"What do you mean?"

"I wanted to invite you to our beachfront wedding, but I didn't know your address, and it was on such short notice, and Matias wasn't at his place, and—" Marcella inhaled, then exhaled. "Sorry. Rambling. Point is, you're invited."

Oh. Oh. "Wow..." the writer uttered. It was the first time in ages she'd been invited to a beach wedding, let alone any wedding. And one hosted by the protagonists...well, this was certainly one for the ages.

"I-I mean..." Marcella began backtracking, spotting Melanija's peculiar expression. "Only if you're interested? I know it's super last minute, I—well—"

"Y-Yeah! Definitely! Definitely interested," the writer clarified. "I haven't been to weddings in awhile, so it's all kind of new to me."

"Whew! Ok!" The pair laughed, continuing to sip their melon mocktails. "You had me worried for a bit there, Melanija."

"So, uh, when is it? What's the attire? And which beach?"

"Pretty soon, beach formal, and just down the way—you can see it from here—" Marcella pointed in the distance. "There, by the sandbar—"

"Got it. Looking forward to it." The writer rose, walked a few paces, placing the glass in the kitchen sink; Marcella followed suit.

Mere moments later, Catticus enveloped in her arms, she bade Marcella farewell until the day of. "Oh—and one more thing—almost forgot—"

"Yeah?" Melanija turned, Catticus' face buried within her shoulder.

"Feel free to invite a plus one." Marcella placed a hand on her bump, almost subconsciously so. "I guess it could be Catticus but he might not like the sand, or—"

"I know just the person to ask. I've got this." The writer bit her lip, smiling all the while. "And I heard your sister's taking charge of the festivities?"

"Yup. So I can rest. For the baby. Honestly, people treat me like a curio doll. I swear, it's like I'm—" she paused. "Fragile. I can't even go outside without a veritable entourage, it's maddening—"

"Have you tried telling them that?"

"Well—er—not exactly—"

"Then how would they know not to act like that?"

Marcella bore a wry expression. "True."

"I think they care about you, just...they have an interesting way of showing it. But they do care. A lot."

Marcella's tone softened. "I know. Believe me, I know. Maybe part of it is...I haven't had that growing up. And suddenly I do. All this attention. Kindness. Love pouring out everywhere. And it's amazing—but also—"

"Overwhelming?"

Marcella nodded, blinking back tears. "Sorry, I blame hormones—"

"No need to apologize. Y'know, I can say something to Matias once he's back from Morgana's. See if we can get this squared away. In the meantime, rest up...and you do you?"

"Sounds like a plan."

And then it was herself, holding a wriggling Catticus; both writer and feline made their way back to the Air B&B abode. Breakfast, then more adventures awaited.