“What’s your name?” he asks the cat. Why do people do that?
“I named it Shelby. You know, because of the stripe.”
Rafael’s raised eyebrows and blank look suggest he’s not familiar with the Shelby Mustang.
“It? Is it a boy or a girl?” he asks.
I shrug. Rafael clicks his tongue at the cat and flips it on its back in his hand.
“Girl,” he announces. Shelby rolls over and kneads Rafael’s chest with a deep purr. “She do that to you?”
“Huh?”
Rafael runs a warm finger down my forearm.
“Oh yeah. It—uh, she—just showed up the other night. Can’t let her go back out there yet. Too little.”
Rafael trails after me, Shelby still in his arms, as I stick the ice cream in the freezer, order pizza, and grab another beer.
“Want one?”
“No thanks.”
“Or I have whiskey if you want.”
“No, I don’t drink. Water would be good, though.”
Wow, I don’t think I know anyone who doesn’t drink.
We sit on the couch with our drinks, Shelby now permanently attached to Rafael. He runs a finger over the kitten’s back, making her wriggle closer to him.
“She likes you more than me,” I joke.
“Maybe she doesn’t want to get attached if you’re not planning to let her stay.”
I laugh. “Yeah, she’s reading my mind. I wish. Then maybe she’d stop unrolling all the toilet paper.”
But Rafael isn’t smiling. “Animals can sense peace or anxiety, dedication or disinterest. They’re incredibly attuned to people’s moods. They pick up things we’re not even aware we’re transmitting.”
“Transmitting? Man, you make it sound like a radio or something.”
“I think it kind of is like a radio. The way our feelings and thoughts are expressed without words. It’s not mind reading. If you pay attention, you get better at it. Animals do it automatically because they don’t have the option of verbal communication.” He looks strangely comfortable on my couch, talking about animal radios and shit. I’m never that relaxed on my own damn couch.
“You, for example,” he says, and I tense. “Not hard to read. You’re anxious about what I want to talk to you about but you think you owe me something because I saved your ass the other day.” His version of a smile is just small enough to move his mouth to neutral.
“I would’ve been fine,” I say automatically. “Um, so what do you want to talk to me about?”
He sits up a bit straighter, slowly, so he doesn’t dislodge Shelby.
“I work with an organization in North Philly that does programming for youth in the neighborhood. Giving them activities and a safe space so they stay off the streets. We have after-school programs, sports, art and music programs, mentorship and counseling. And on Saturdays we have drop-in hours all day, but we try to also schedule some special programs. Workshops on things the kids might be interested in, performances, demonstrations, that kind of thing.”
“That’s cool, man.” Jesus, I hope he doesn’t want me to be some kind of Big Brother volunteer. Because I kind of already fucked that up with my real little brothers.
“So, I think some of the kids would really like to learn about cars. Knowing how to do basic maintenance would help their families save a little money. And if any of them get into it, it’d give them a skill so they could potentially get a job—that’s a big part of what we do, too, trying to connect these kids up with long-term strategies for success, like jobs or internships. And I think some of them probably just think cars are cool. So, would you be interested in teaching a workshop about cars or what it’s like working as a mechanic?”
“Wait, seriously? That’s what you wanted to talk to me about? If I would teach auto mechanics to some kids?”
“Yeah.”
I’m not sure what I was expecting, but not that. Maybe some kind of blackmail for the other night, or—fuck, I don’t know. This guy’s tripping me out, though. He’s handsome, looks like he could be an MMA fighter or a gang leader or something—wait, is that racist?—and he works to keep youth off the streets. I guess that’s why he was so good with that kid at the shop last night. Telling him a hard truth in a kind way.
It sounds like a pain in the ass, honestly. I don’t know anything about kids and I’ve never taught anyone anything—unless you count teaching Brian and Daniel how to fight. But I don’t really feel like I can say no after he helped me the other night.
“Uh, yeah, I could do that?”
“Yeah?” He smiles, the first one I’ve seen from him that’s bigger than an amused quirk of the lip. “That’s great, Colin. I think you’ll be good at it.”
“Well, you don’t really know me. For all you know, I’ll fuck it up. Hell, shouldn’t you make sure I’m not a child molester or something?”