World without Cats (6 page)

“Yes,” Noah replied, “and you’re right about the spleen. That’s an invariant symptom of MEFA.” Vera looked up from the cat and saw that Noah was eyeing her. His lips were parted as if he was going to say something else, but he didn’t speak. The vet eyed him in return. Vera wondered if it would be a conflict of interest if she asked the Shakespeare-loving scientist out on a date.

After a few more questions, the group exited the cat room and thanked Noah for the tour. Vera felt that the tour had gone well and had worked toward Noah’s credibility. Even Anneke acknowledged that the research animals were well cared for. As the five of them made their way down the hallway toward the elevator, Noah rushed after them, attempting to intercept Vera. “Dr. Barnett,” he called.

“Yes?”

“Would you mind waiting a moment?” He paused until the others were out of earshot. “I … uh … wonder if …”

Vera, seeing at once what Noah was about, took the lead. “Dr. Chamberlin, would you have dinner with me some evening? I’d like to discuss with you the significance of this George fellow in
Henry VI
.”

Noah laughed heartily. “How about tonight? I know a pretty good steakhouse north of here on Lewis Road.”

“I think I know the place. The Cock and Bull, isn’t it? Yes, tonight would be fine. What time may I pick you up?”

“Oh, I’ll drive, after all …”

“Dr. Chamberlin, it was I who asked you to dinner,” Vera interjected.

Noah looked her in the eye. He acquiesced. “Okay, you drive. I live over on Agave Road, north of Las Posas, not far from the police station. Do you know where that is?”

“Yes, I think so. Okay, tonight then. Say, around seven?”

Noah wrote down his address and drew a simple map for Vera. She strolled out of the building, bemused. Who could have thought the day would turn out this way?

Vera eased into a dark booth opposite Noah. A single candle on one end of the resin-covered burl table cast ghostly shadows on his face.

Noah inhaled deeply. “There’s nothing like the aroma of charbroiled steaks!”

They ordered drinks from the almost invisible waitress. Vera raised her glass. “To George.” Noah smiled and touched his stemmed martini glass to Vera’s scotch. “I looked it up, you know,” Vera announced. “You were right. There is a George in
Henry VI
. The Duke of Clarence. He also appears in
Richard III
.”

“Ahhh, the Duke of Clarence. ‘Our hap is loss, our hope but sad despair …’ George’s opening line in
Henry VI
. The third part of the play, to be precise.”

“I can’t believe it! The Duke of Clarence is a relatively minor character, and you know an obscure line like that? That’s incredible!”

Noah grinned sheepishly. “I looked it up too.” They laughed.

“Drinking on an empty stomach is going to knock me for a loop,” Noah remarked. “I think we’d better order.” He signaled the waitress, and they ordered steaks and a carafe of California cabernet.

Conversation was suspended as they cut into the steaks. Finally, Vera stated through a mouthful, “Shakespeare was a male chauvinist.”

Noah frowned. “Ah yes. Of course.
Taming of the Shrew.
That must be one of the most sexist plays ever written.”

Vera nodded.

“But,” continued Noah, “to be fair, you’ve got to consider Shakespeare’s many strong and sympathetic female characters, Lady Macbeth, Portia, and Cordelia, for example. You can make any case for or against Shakespeare. Many Jews believe he was anti-Semitic.”

Vera said nothing, but she looked into Noah’s eyes with growing respect.

Noah returned her gaze and asked, “Tell me, how did you happen to become a veterinarian?”

“I grew up on a farm in the San Joaquin Valley. I always liked animals. In fact, until I was about eighteen, I preferred them to people. So naturally, I wanted to be a vet. However, my parents were very conservative, very traditional. They didn’t even want me to go to college. I rebelled and broke with my family. But it’s okay now. We’re kind of in touch again. I majored in biology at Cal State Sacramento, got good grades, attended vet school at Davis. That’s about it.”

“How did you happen to come to Camarillo?”

“I started by interning with Dr. Graham Wu, a vet at Auburn, in the gold rush country, and then opened my own practice in Placerville. But I couldn’t make a go of it.”

Vera could see that Noah was an attentive listener. “Three years ago, I came across an ad from a vet here who wanted to retire and was looking for someone to take over his practice. So here I am.” Vera shrugged. “I share the practice with another fellow whom I’m training. He’s fresh out of vet school. How about you?”

“Yeah, here I am too.”

“No, professor, your history. How did you get into your field? What’s a nice guy like you doing creating Frankenstein monsters in the laboratory?”

“Well, let’s see. Born in Los Angeles of mixed WASP and Jewish parentage. Followed a pre-med curriculum at UCLA. B.A in 2012 but couldn’t get into med school—wrong race, wrong sex, wrong ethnic background. Maybe my B average had something to do with it too.” Vera’s incipient reproach dissolved into a smile.

Noah went on, “I wasn’t really turned on academically until I got to grad school. Earned a PhD in molecular biology at Berkeley in 2015. Spent two years as a post-doc at the University of Massachusetts, honing my recombinant DNA techniques. Met my wife there and got married in 2016.”

Vera was nonplussed. “Oh! I didn’t … “

“Divorced,” Noah droned on. “Final decree this February.”

Vera smiled wanly. “Any kids?”

“No, thank God. That would have made it messier.”

“Was it messy?”

“For a while. It’s okay now.”

Vera nodded. “What is she like?”

“Myra? Oh, intelligent, witty … like you, I guess. She wasn’t content to live the rest of her life as a faculty wife.”

“I don’t blame her.” Vera stared at Noah over her wine glass. “What did you mean, like me?”

“Huh?”

“You said your wife, Myra, was like me. You don’t even know me.”

“I don’t know what I … forget it.”

He changed the subject. “Have you been to the Ojai Shakespeare festival?”

“No. I’ve been meaning to go. It’s in the summer, right?”

“Yes,” Noah replied. “Late July and early August. Perhaps we can go together next summer.”

“That would be wonderful,” Vera exclaimed. “I went up to Ashland a year ago. They put on an unusual production of
Midsummer Night’s Dream.
Sort of a surrealistic staging with a laser light show.”

“Yeah, I read about that. How did you like it?”

“I didn’t, really,” Vera said. “I guess I’m too much of a traditionalist.

“There’s another local festival in the summer,” she continued, “I can’t recall … oh, it’s sponsored by Cal-Lutheran … The Kingsmen Shakespeare Festival.”

“There must be many Shakespeare lovers in the area.”

Vera raised her wineglass. “To Shakespeare.”

Noah clinked his glass to hers. “To lovers,” he said.

Vera smiled. “To lovers.”

The waitress reappeared out of the gloom. “Care for dessert?”

“No thanks,” said Vera.
Not anything on the menu, anyway.

Noah shook his head. The woman scratched on her pad and deposited the check in front of Noah. He reached for it. “Wait a minute, Noah, I’ll pay the check,” Vera protested. “I asked you to dinner, remember?”

“Please let me. I don’t mind.”

“Dr. Chamberlin,” she said feigning formality, “our incomes are probably comparable. Can you give me one good reason why, considering that it was I who initiated this evening, you should pay the check?”

“How about each of us paying our own?”

“Well, all right,” Vera responded. “Look, Noah, I’m sorry I shot off like that. I don’t want us to get off on the wrong foot. But I’m kind of sensitive about … well …”

“I understand, but I am a product of my upbringing.” This was said with such obvious sincerity that Vera, in spite of herself, was suddenly overwhelmed by a feeling of affection. She reached out and silently touched his hand.

Noah let it linger. “I guess we should leave,” he suggested at last.

As they departed the restaurant, Noah said, “Say, I just got a videochip of Branagh’s
Much Ado About Nothing.
It was made back in 1993. Would you be interested in watching it with me?”

“Now there’s an approach. What, no etchings?”

“Well, I do have some etchings. A book collection too. I just thought you might enjoy the movie.”

Vera regarded Noah.
I think he’s serious,
she thought.
Maybe he’s gay.
“Is that the one with Keanu Reeves as Don John?”

“Yep, that’s the one.”

“Okay. Sounds appealing. Let’s watch Shakespeare.”

“How nice,” said Vera as they arrived at Noah’s house. “Quite a pretty area you live in.”

“Yes, it is. Great neighbors too.” When he opened the door, Vera was startled by a movement just inside. “What? … Oh, you have a cat. I guess it didn’t occur to me that a guy who uses cats in his research would have one as a pet. What a beautiful chocolate-point. What’s her name?” Vera picked the animal up and stroked her.

“Bastette,” said Noah. “I’ll go whip up some popcorn.”

“Ah, the Egyptian cat goddess.” She let go of Bastette, who positioned herself on the back of the couch.

“That’s right,” Noah called from the kitchen. “Can I get you a drink or something?”

“Scotch, if you have it.”

Vera surveyed the living room while Noah popped into the kitchen for ice. All was natural wood, red brick, and deep-pile carpet. An immense bookcase covered one entire wall. A large color photograph of a woman Vera assumed to be Myra was conspicuously displayed on one of the shelves. Klee, Picasso, and Braque prints adorned other walls. Several technical books and periodicals were scattered on and around the large blue-green sofa. Vera smiled when she spied a copy of
Shakespeare: The History Plays
on the walnut coffee table, opened to
Henry VI.

Noah returned with the drinks. “Here you are. I’ll load the chip.” He took the one-inch square digital video chip out of its minibox and slipped it into the DVC slot.

As the movie began, Noah sat down on the sofa, leaving a large space between himself and Vera.
Hmm. What’s with this guy?
she wondered.

After a half hour or so Noah remarked, “You know, we only met this morning, and yet I feel as if I’ve known you for a longer time.”

“Yes, I know what you mean,” answered Vera. She had been wondering what kind of advance he was going to use.

When the movie ended, they spent a half hour discussing it. “Wow. It’s really late,” Noah said. “You could stay here tonight if you like. You can sleep in the bedroom, and I’ll sleep on the couch.”

Vera was astonished, and then she was hurt. Did he find her so unattractive that he wasn’t even going to make a pass? She said nothing, but put down her glass and slid over to Noah’s side. She gazed wordlessly into his brown eyes. He returned the gaze. Vera put her hands around the back of his head and firmly pulled him to her. They kissed, and then they kissed again. She ran her fingers through his thick, black hair.

After they were both free of clothing, Noah exclaimed, “My God, you’re beautiful!”

“You’re not so bad yourself.” Vera hadn’t expected such an athletic body on a scientist.
So much for stereotypes,
she thought. “Do you work out?”

“Huh? Oh, mainly, I run.”

“It shows.”
God, he knows what he’s doing
. Vera alternately sighed and moaned. She tried to return his lovemaking but was nearly incapacitated with ecstasy.

Vera gasped, “Do you have a condom?” She didn’t want Noah to know that she had a few in her bag.

“Uh, yeah, in the nightstand.” Hand in hand, they relocated to the bedroom.

In Salt Lake City, Leland Meredith, an autistic youth of sixteen, had made little progress since his diagnosis eleven years earlier. On the advice of his psychiatrist, Leland’s parents acquired a pet cat. The doctor told them that animal companions often helped autistic patients to function, especially young ones. The all-black cat—Leland named it Darth Vader—was the boy’s constant companion. His mental outlook improved dramatically. At times, his behavior was such that only an expert could suspect he was autistic. Sometimes, for as long as an hour, the boy would watch Darth’s abdomen move slowly, in and out, as he slept. Mr. and Mrs. Meredith attended the First Baptist Church every Sunday and gave thanks to God for sending them the “miracle cat.”

5
 

Three months after Noah and Vera’s memorable first date, Vera drove them to the campus in her Porsche. The ad hoc committee was ready to present its report. The protestors were out in force. Noah was greeted by a rhythmic chant: “Fe Fi Fo Fum, feline killers here we come!”