Love Is for Losers by Wibke Brueggemann (motivational books for men .TXT) 📕

can have a reason to live, I would have told you you were totally crazy.

Emma was holding the kitten (one of the nondesigner ones, obviously, and possibly the one that had bonded with Bill that one time), and I was holding its accessories.

Before we got out of the car, Pat checked her face in the mirror and put some more apricot-colored lipstick on. I didn’t know at the time that it was her war paint, and so I may have rolled my eyes.

When we got to the front door, Kate rang the doorbell.

Then she rang it again.

And again.

And again.

Kate (knocking like a crazy person): Fer goodness’ sake, open yer bloody door, ye stubborn old man.

Emma (eyes wide, looking at me):…

Me (whispering): So Scottish.

Kate: Excuse me, are you making fun of me? Because I’m not in the mood. Bill. I’m gonna kick yer door in.

Emma, Pat, and I:…

Kate: Of course I’m not going to kick a door in, don’t be ridiculous.

Pat (knocking): Bill, we’re all here. It’s rude to ignore people who are calling to check on you.

Emma: Maybe he’s out.

Pat: He’s not out. He’s ignoring us. Melanie would be so disappointed. Well, there’s nothing for it …

And then she started rummaging around her handbag, got out her wallet, opened the change compartment, pulled out a tiny screwdriver, and shoved it into the lock.

Emma: How do you know how to—

Pat: You think because I’m old I’m incapable?

Emma: No, it’s just … Never mind.

Pat was rattling the door like mad, poking at the lock, and suddenly there was a click, and the door opened. At the exact same moment, Bill appeared just behind it.

Bill: You would break into my house?

Pat: I did break into your house.

Bill: I will call the police.

Pat: You will do no such thing.

Half-designer kitten: Meowwwwwwwwweeeeeee.

Emma (holding it up and into Bill’s face):…

Kate: And before you say no, let me tell you that I have neither the time nor the patience, let alone the money, to look after any more cats, and this one I can’t get rid of, because it’s not a pure breed, and it’s a cranky little shit, and since you’ve decided to never leave your house again, I’m giving it to you.

Bill: I can’t have animals.

Kate: Don’t be ridiculous, this is your house, you can do whatever ye like.

Kitten: Meeeeowwwwweeeee.

Emma: Please, Bill, look, she’s so sweet.

Me: And if you don’t like her, you can always drown her. But don’t tell Emma.

Pat: Are you going to invite us in, Bill? Or shall we leave the kitten on your doorstep?

Me: Like baby Jesus.

Emma: I think that was Moses.

Pat: It was neither.

Bill: You mean Mowgli. From The Jungle Book. He was an orphaned human and raised by a different species.

Kate: Great. There you go, then. This is Mowgli, but she’s a girl. Mowgli, this is Bill. We’ve brought cat litter and food. Phoebe, put all that down right here. Any questions, just give me a call. Let’s go, team.

Emma put the tiny kitten into Bill’s ginormous hand, I put down the litter and the food, and then we all turned around and walked towards the car.

Before I got in, I looked back at Bill holding the kitten, and I could hear it meowing. It was like the opening of The Lion King: epic.

Kate dropped off Pat first, and then she was like: “Emma, do you want to come in for a cup of tea? See Richard?” And Emma was like: “Sure. If that’s okay.”

But I was thinking: Remember the list, remember the list, remember the list. Emma at the house means total disregard of four points out of five.

Unfortunately it was out of my hands, and so I thought: Well, the only thing I can do is stay on guard.

Richard galloped towards Emma when he saw her/heard her voice, and she picked him up and kissed his squashed-up little face.

I went into the kitchen to make tea.

Kate (whispering): You know you’re going to have to work for me all next year, too, to pay off Richard if you want to give him to Emma.

Me: I won’t have time. I’ll have school.

Kate: You had school this year.

Me: Do you think I can ask Mum to give me Russian lessons for my birthday?

Kate: Are you changing the subject?

Me: No. I was just thinking about when I’m back at home.

Kate: Don’t go back home, Phoebe. I’ll miss you. Why don’t you just live with me?

Me: Mum probably wouldn’t even notice.

Kate: Phoebe.

Me: What? It’s the truth.

Kate (hugging me, squeezing me, kissing my face): It isn’t, but just so you know, I love it when you’re here, and I always hate it when you go back home, because I looooooove you, you wonderful, wonderful human. (then, whispering again) When are you going to tell Emma you fancy her?

Me (extracting myself from her iron clasp): Shut up. Never.

Kate: Phoebe, I know you’re a bit awkward, but you’re not a coward.

Me (whispering): Oh my God, thanks for the compliment. She wouldn’t fancy me back anyway.

Kate (eyebrows up):…

Me (whispering): What?

Kate (whispering): She clearly fancies you.

Me (heart beating totally out of control): Fuck off.

Kate (whispering): I’ve known her longer than you.

Me (whispering): And that’s why you can read her mind?

Kate (whispering): Fer goodness’ sake, Phoebe, stop being such a fuckwit.

Me (whispering): Besides, even if she did fancy me, which she doesn’t, I don’t do all that. Because I can’t.

So I walked back into the living room, head throbbing, with our cups of tea, and when I looked at Emma, she looked at me with her beautiful eyes, all smiling and happy and perfect, and all I could think was: All things aside; I couldn’t be with you, because I couldn’t be without you after that.

Emma: Are you okay?

Me: Yes, fine.

Kate made me walk Emma home at nine as usual, and when we were outside her house, Emma hugged me, but I was all physically awkward again, like “Argh!” but with my limbs.

Emma: Have I done anything to upset you?

Me: No, why?

Emma: Because you’ve gone all quiet.

Me: I’m always quiet.

Emma: