The Universally Attractive Man (mf)
By AnonymousNin
1
The final patrons of the cafe left.
I grabbed their cups and placed them in the sink.
I flipped the door sign from open to closed and locked the door.
I washed the register counter off one more time, grabbed my jacket, and exited the cafe.
I went out the back door like Sofia showed me.
It was a warm summer New York City night so I kept my Jacket off.
I walked home through the dark straight streets back to my sister's apartment.
It was a long walk, an hour each way. I enjoyed the built in solitude of the walk as opposed to the subway.
Breathing and meditating in the city. This is the whole point of being in New York.
I never take the same route home twice. I follow the grid and walk at random, just heading in the right general direction.
I walked home silently, past bars and clubs; past closed convenience stores and closed independent delis; past overpriced clothing boutiques.
There are always people out in New York City, everyone in their tiny bubble of solitude.
I walked and kept my headphones in my pocket-- and just the thought of my life; how my relationship with my sister is strained; how Sofia, my manager at the cafe, seems to not like me; how I had "no direction or home, a complete unknown," as Bob Dylan would say.
I walked past a group of stray cats, when, out of the corner of my eye, I walked past a dark alley and saw a large, queer cat.
It was a lion, or rather not quite a lion, like a juvenile lion cub.
It was a large young, golden white cat, which quickly disappeared.
A lion in New York City! How could that be?
I turned down the alley, just to check and see if my eyes were correct.
I walked down the alley, I turned the corner-- and nothing. The next street was completely empty.
I took a couple of steps down this dark backstreet, with the back doors of the street businesses,
I walked past a dumpster when the large golden cat pounced on me.
The large feline cat knocked me down.
Instinctively, from the deepest recesses of human reaction, I covered my face with my arms.
Or, rather, my arms protected me on their own instinctive volition.
The cat bit into my arm.
I felt a searing pain go through my left arm.
I shoved my arms forward and the cat released the grip of its jaw, and prowled away.
I laid down on my back on the asphalt, breathing heavily.
Attacked by a lion! In New York City! What the fuck!
I sat up.
Pain shot through my right side.
The impact against the asphalt banged me up pretty good.
The cat was gone: disappeared into the darkness of the back city streets.
I looked down to my bitten mauled left arm.
There was blood bleeding from a bite mark.
The bite was not very deep.
The bite was a perfect outline of the dental records of the cat gently pressed into my arm.
It was not that bad-- all things considered-- I could have died.
I threw up between my legs on the asphalt.
The grossness of the wound plus the adrenaline of the attack left my nerves in shambles.
I wrapped my arm up in my jacket to hide the blood.
I walked home.
I stopped at the first convenience store I passed. A CVS.
My bloody arm still wrapped in my jacket, I stumbled through the store and purchased a small generic brand bottle of medical alcohol.
I went behind a quiet dumpster down the street and poured the entire small bottle of alcohol onto the wound.
The alcohol hurt more than the original bite itself.
The pain gave way to a numb sensation of the alcohol, and I could barely feel my arm.
I meandered the rest of the way home back to my sister Caitlyn's apartment, my bitten arm wrapped in my bloody hoodie.
I arrived back at our apartment.
Caitlyn was already asleep.
I tip-toed to my room, shut the door, and fell on my bed. I passed out at once, my work cafe clothes and shoes still on.
2
I had a nightmare-- tossing, sweating, turning.
Constrained by my shoes and uncomfortable clothes.
I sweated through my clothes.
I dreamt I was in an endless darkness.
I was being chased by a pack of large cats.
It took all the strength I had to stay in front of the pack of cats nipping at my heels.
There was no light.
I ran forward through the darkness at full speed.
Pain shot like a gun up and through my quads and hamstrings.
My calves tensed themselves into a ball of muscle.
I wanted to collapse, just give up, give up this life, and just be eaten by the pack of predators.
3
I woke up to the sun shining through my blindness window.
The sun was full up in the sky.
It was mid-day.
It took me a while to find my bearings. I had sweated through my work clothes completely.
My bed was a gross mess of blood and nightmarish sleep.
I looked down to my left arm: my bloody jacket was still wrapped around it.
I removed my jacket from around my arm. There was a sticky layer of blood between my jacket and arm.
I dry heaved. I would have vomited if I hadn't already emptied my stomach last night.
My jacket fully removed, I inspected the bite mark on my arm.
I couldn't find it.
There was no bite mark-- just blood.
Was I hallucinating? Am I going crazy?
Borderline panic attack, I stumbled into my bathroom.
I drew the faucet and entered my shower-- still completely dressed, shoes and all.
I let the water run down my dressed body. The blood spilled down the drain and washed itself away.
I removed my clothes and let them sit on the floor of the shower as I just stood there, and let the heat wash me away.
I didn't bother with soap or shampoo or anything.
I just stood there and felt the warmth.
Eventually the hot water ran out and I turned off the faucet before things got cold.
I dried myself off and went back out to my room.
I picked up my phone. It was already 1 in the afternoon.
Under the clock, I had the notifications for five missed calls: all from Sofia-- my manager at the cafe-- asking me "where the fuck I was," and to "not come back," and I was "fired."
I quickly dressed and left my apartment.
I left my bloody jacket on my bedroom floor and my wet clothes on the floor of my shower.
I hailed a cab.
Traffic wasn't bad. I arrived at the cafe in less than fifteen minutes.
4
I arrived at the cafe and Mrs. Velasquez was behind the cafe counter.
Sofia Velasquez: a hot-tempered Columbian woman who both owns and manages the cafe. Sofia is married to a columbian well off financier that works in a fancy office space somewhere in the city. She is a very pretty Latina woman. One looks at her and immediately can see what a dime-piece she was when she was younger. Sofia was an older South American swimwear model of a woman. With a work ethic. No wonder some rich financier married her.
"There you are!" Mrs. Velasquez shouted as I entered the cafe.
"Look Mrs. Velasquez, I'm so sorry--"
"What the fuck happened to you Jacob," the look on Sofia's face shifted from anger to pity.
"I'm so so sorry, please, I need this job."
"Are you okay?"
I was taken aback: "Well, I'm, no, I haven't been feeling well."
Mrs. Velasquez's anger gave way to understanding. This is the first time I've seen anything other than my boss's hot-tempered Columbian side.
"Sorry, I just rushed over here, do I not look well?"
"It's not that, exactly, it's just that you look different."
"Oh, sorry, I mean--"
"No, no, in, like, a good way."
Mrs. Velasquez's eyes met mine. There was a weird moment between us, as I looked into her glossy, brown, feline eyes.
"Forget what I said on the phone, take the day off and come back on Thursday."
"Oh, really Mrs. Vel--"
"I insist," she said with a smile, "I'm sorry if I was mean to you, I want you to stay. In fact, stay and I'll give you a raise, how about twenty an hour?"
Shocked, "Yeah, that sounds good, I said, I guess I'll see you on Thursday Mrs. Velasquez."
"Please, Jacob, call me Sofia."
I gulped. "Sounds good Sofia."
I quickly left the cafe before my luck ran out.
5
No longer in a rush, I walked home.
What had happened? Not only was I not fired, but I somehow got a raise? Things like this never happened to me.
On my walk home I walked past a cute girl with glasses in a sundress. She looked at me and we made a moment of eye contact. She smiled as we looked at one another. I continued walking and went past her.
I turned around and looked back. She was still looking at me.
What was happening? A girl on the streets checking me out. No work? A raise? Bitten by a lion? No bite marks? Am I going crazy? I'm losing my mind.
6
I arrived back at my sister's apartment and went straight to bed.
I awoke to the sounds of the front door opening and closing. My sister Caitlyn was home from work.
I sat up.
I went out to the kitchen.
Hey Caitlyn."
"Hey Jacob," she said, "what do you want for dinner?"
Caitlyn turned to look at me. Our eyes met and we had this weird moment of eye contact.
Again, there was weird glossiness to her eyes as they looked into mine.
"You alright?" I asked.
"Oh, yeah, it's nothing. Are you alright, you seem different?"
"I am just super tired, I haven't been able to sleep." I lied.
"Huh, interesting," Caitlyn mused, "well, do you have any ideas on what you want for dinner?"
"I don't know anything really, what are you in the mood for?"
"How about chinese food, it's your favorite right?"
"Yeah," I said, that sounds perfect."
I was semi taken aback. Caitlyn never takes in my considerations for dinner. We usually just eat what she likes.
"Orange chicken is your favorite, right Jacob?"
"Yeah."
I was also taken aback that Caitlyn knew what my favorite food was.
Caitlyn called the place down the street.
The food arrived in less than thirty minutes.
Caitlyn brought it over to me on the couch. We never eat on the couch.
"Do you want to watch something while we eat?" Caitlyn asked.
"What's wrong with you, are you alright? We never order chinese food. We never eat on the couch?" I asked.
"Oh, it's alright, don't be silly," Caitlyn blushed.
"She grabbed the remote, what do you want to watch?"
Testing my luck, "how about South Park?" My sister hates cartoons, if she says yes, I know something is up.
"Sure, why not," she said with a smile.
"What the fuck Caitlyn, are you sure you are alright?"