This is Chapter 1 of Tales of a Future Cat Lady By, Starr, M.D.

ITALY HERE WE COME

You have got to be kidding me! Storming down the hallway towards the elevator, this thought repeated over and over in my mind as I punched the down button. “I cannot fucking believe this!” I said aloud as the elevator doors opened. It was our first night in Italy and I was not expecting our romantic rendezvous to start like this. We were staying in Ravenna with plans to hop from one Italian city to the next in a quick tour of some of the country’s most magical places. We both thought it would make for a fun way to spend our first vacation together. I entered the elevator and pressed the lobby button. Shaking my head in disgust during the descent, I thought about what transpired in our hotel room.

In preparation for fun days and sexy nights, I packed several pieces of lingerie. After our long day of travel, I slid into a tiny black sheer and lace teddy. I crawled into bed beside him, hoping he was just as eager to relax as I was. I pressed myself onto him and caressed my legs along his. Pushing my breasts against his body, I looked into his eyes and traced his skin gently with my fingertips. I leaned in to kiss him and as I closed my eyes and parted my lips he spoke.

“Hey!? Where is that word search puzzle book you had on the plane?”

I blinked. A breathless “huh” is the only response I could muster. He repeated his request.

“Do you really want that word search book right now?” I said slyly, as I adjusted my position giving him full view of my lace decorated body.

“Yep.” He responded. I blinked again and again as if the flut‐ tering of my eyelids would rewind time and we would be well on our way to an intimate entanglement.

Recounting the events that led to my abrupt exit from the room, I barely noticed when the elevator stopped in the lobby. The lobby bar of the Grand Hotel Mattei in Ravenna was much brighter than a hotel lobby bar needed to be. The ultramodern white sofa and chairs with black trim scattered around the area were more trendy than comfortable. I took a seat near the back of the bar, distancing myself from the crowd. There were several groups of people milling about, chatting, and laughing as they sipped libations. They looked like they were having a great time or at the very least, they were having a lot more fun than I was. I motioned for the bartender.

“Vodka soda! Grazie!”
“Do you speak Italian?” He asked, his English perfect.
“No.” I said with a smile. “All I can say is Ciao, Grazie, and

Parli Inglese.” We laughed. I drank and made small talk with the nice guy at the bar. Usually I hated small talk, but I was too furious to go back upstairs. I made idle conversation and allowed my inner thoughts to drift. I had not envisioned our vacation having such a shaky start. Even more problematic is that I did not foresee us having a complete communication meltdown. Just the other day we were praising ourselves for how well we worked together and twelve hours in Italy was putting that statement to the test.

“Un Altro.” I ordered another cocktail and recounted how we got here.

A little over forty-eight hours ago, I was anxiously and excitedly logging out of my computer to leave the office. Days at the office before taking time away were hectic and involved reviewing lab and imaging results, making patient phone calls, and ensuring patients with ongoing concerns had appropriate follow up. My workload was heavier than usual, compounded by playing catch up due to being away for two weddings in the weeks prior. Getting out of doctor mode and into vacation mode was a more than welcomed change of pace. I was desperately looking forward to this trip.

A light drizzle, a mixture of ice and rain, was starting to pick up as I ran to my car. Traffic was hectic as usual in Chicago, but the slow drive home was a blur. I was busy reviewing my pre- vacation mental checklist. I boarded my dog, Scrappy, a seven- pound Yorkie Chihuahua mix, that morning. Home visits had been set for Sox, my black tuxedo cat with white feet. Her litter box was clean, and her food and water dispensers were full. I was packed and had clothes for every occasion. I smiled, pleased with my productivity.

By the time I walked into my twenty-first floor, West Loop apart‐ ment I was confident all my pre-vacation affairs were in order. I collapsed onto the couch and allowed myself to relax. Moments later, I was hit with a wave of excitement. I loved to travel. In the last year I had been to five different countries. I had trekked rainforests and rappelled down hidden waterfalls in Costa Rica. I had celebrated my birthday in the Dominican Republic. I had reveled in Caribbean culture at the Caribbean Carnival in Toronto, Ontario, Canada. I had toured the Van Gogh museum, the Rijksmuseum, and the Heineken Factory in Amsterdam, Netherlands. I had drunk beer with people from all over the world during Oktoberfest in Munich, Germany. Exploring new venues, experiencing different cultures, and indulging in the spirited nightlife of foreign lands instilled within me an endless sense of childlike wonder. Everything about traveling from passing time at an airport bar to landing in a place where a new adventure awaits made me feel alive. Tomorrow I was off to Italy, but this trip contained an added element.

I would be traveling as a “we”.

It had been a while since I was in a relationship. I relished in the frivolous and superficial encounters I had and found most of my serious relationships suffocating. With my best friends settling down, I arbitrarily decided this was the year I would make a conscious effort to seek companionship. So far, my relationship with Kevin was different from the ones in my past, and I was excited. There was no guessing and no games. Instead, Kevin gave repeated assurances that he was “in it for the long haul”. Such intense affirmations at early stages in relationships usually turned me off and turned my bullshit shield on. However, he insisted I had the set of characteristics that he never thought he would find in one woman. Having always been told I was different, I bought in. Even more interestingly was that this time I felt the same.

We met by happenstance. Kevin was interviewing for a management position in air traffic control at Chicago’s O’Hare International Airport and I was returning from a wedding in my home state of Tennessee. Our connection was instant. He was well educated, a professional and military veteran, tall, had a handsome face, and a great physique. He lived in North Carolina but was determined we keep in contact. We did.

We spent hours on the phone talking, listening, and learning about one another. We connected over upward mobility in our chosen careers. I had recently accepted the position of Medical Director and Chair of the Department of Obstetrics and Gyne‐ cology and he was looking to advance in his career. Where many men had shied away when they discovered I was a doctor, Kevin’s enthusiasm was palpable when I announced that I would be leading the department.

We bonded over hobbies, movies, the adrenaline rush of skydiving, and the serenity of scuba diving. His most attractive quality was that he wanted to try new things and craved excite‐ ment just as much as I did. Kevin told lame dad jokes and was corny, but I did not mind. I liked that he was comfortable being himself.

Our most interesting commonality was that neither of us had children. During one of our marathon conversations, he tenta‐ tively asked if I wanted children of my own. When my answer was no, there was an audible sigh of relief. He told me that he did not want children either. I laughed aloud and then we laughed together. We swapped horror stories about reactions we had received in the dating world once the subject of children came up. After one upping each other over and over, we laughed uncon‐ trollably, and our bond was solidified.

It very soon became clear that we wanted the same things from life: adventure and an intimate partner with whom we could create and share those adventures. We marveled at the idea of incessant world travel and exploring uncharted locales together. We fantasized about finding hidden gems in those places and leaving our mark behind to be discovered. Given the obvious and much discussed mutual interest, we made plans to see each other again. Several months and many visits later, we decided to make Italy our first adventure.

Kevin was flying into Chicago and the following morning we would travel together to Italy. We would fly into Venice, drive to Ravenna, and then spend eight days on a road trip through the country. I snapped out of my daydream and checked my phone for the time. His flight would be arriving soon. I got off the couch and headed towards the airport.

After making several circles around the O’Hare arrivals termi‐ nal, I spotted Kevin walking towards the passenger pick up. A smile quickly spread across my lips as I pulled in closer. I popped the trunk and hopped out of the car. Kevin greeted me with a huge smile and an embrace. We lingered a while before heading off. The drive back to the West Loop was filled with banter about his flight and work. There was handholding and gentle affection. I was shocked by how happy I was to have him here. I enjoyed being alone and was quite content with the lifestyle I had culti‐ vated for myself. I lived by the Horacio Jones quote:

“Your presence has to feel better than my solitude.”

Kevin’s presence felt good, and as we prepared for bed that night, he gave me a small gift, a congratulations on my promotion. I smiled and kissed him deeply and we allowed passion to overtake us.

After he had fallen asleep, I lay awake, my mind buzzing. The double weekend wedding whirlwind I was just a part of had been exhausting. Flying from Chicago to Nashville on two back-to- back weekends to be a bridesmaid in two different best friends’ weddings, one with a two-part ceremony was no easy feat. Although the tight travel scheduled with days of work in between had been taxing, I loved getting to be a part of my friends’ cele‐ brations of love. My friends are my chosen family and each of those women are my sisters. Remembering the joy of those moments was overwhelming and had a dizzying effect as they washed over me. It was uncharacteristic for me to become consumed by a romantic fantasy, yet as I lay in bed next to Kevin, I found myself wondering, could this be my forever?

Kevin was a man with whom I shared similar beliefs. Someone who praised my strength, encouraged my ambitions, and cele‐ brated my accomplishments. A man with whom I shared an unde‐ niable chemistry and unspoken communication through touch and affection. I wanted to know more. I wanted to know every‐ thing. I was not a stranger to fiery yet fruitless exchanges with men, and most times it was I who cut the strings. I wanted things to be different with Kevin and hoped we were genuinely compati‐ ble. I knew in a few short hours we would find out. Travel has a way of doing that. I quelled my thoughts and allowed myself to fall asleep.

The alarm jolted me awake and I reached for my phone quickly to silence it. I rolled over and whispered good morning and was greeted with a kiss. Our journey to Italy was starting in a few hours. The layover in Paris was just under forty minutes and navigating international airports can be tricky. We played around in bed for a bit until I insisted we get ready with a gentle reminder of Chicago traffic.

I was giddy the entire cab ride to the airport. His energy matched mine as we watched American Idol videos on my phone. We talked about planned activities and the sites we were most excited to see as LaPorsha Renee’s voice crooned in the back‐ ground. After arriving at the airport, we slowly made our way through the O’Hare security lines and navigated to our departure gate. Soon, it was wheels up. We giggled and gave each other a little peck as the plane started its ascent.

By the time we arrived in Italy, there was a palpable shift in Kevin’s demeanor. His face, usually warm and inviting, was expressionless. I attributed the expression on his face, or lack thereof, to being tired. We had completed a long day of travel and still had the drive to Ravenna ahead. I pushed the observation to the back of my mind. Maybe, I was tired as well.

We hopped in the rental after throwing our bags in the trunk and got ready for the two-hour drive to Ravenna which was to be our base for most of the trip. It was a cute city to explore and a relatively short drive to Florence, Rome, and Venice. I closed the passenger side door and buckled my seatbelt. I looked over at him beaming. Ready to play DJ for our drive, I was about to take his song request when the question he asked next stopped the words from leaving my mouth.

“Have you always been so sassy?” The blankness on his face made the question colder than I assumed he intended.

My smile faded. I paused and swallowed hard. I had confirmed two things: one, something was indeed wrong and two, the look on his face was not secondary to fatigue. My mind raced as I wondered where his question had come from. Although this was not my first encounter with the word sassy, it usually came after I had made some quick-witted quip born out of defensiveness. In the professional setting its sister terms bold or audacious were used to describe me as a young administrator.

However, after making biting commentary or being a strong leader, I am prepared to be described as sassy. This time, the term caught me by surprise.

“Sassy?” I tilted my head like a cat confused by its owner’s commands hoping to convey my complete and total lack of understanding. “What have I done to make you say that?” I asked calmly.

“It’s just the way you say things.” His response was curt, as if his statement on my demeanor was definitive and punctuated the end of the conversation. As someone who believed two adults in a relationship can and should communicate effectively, I disre‐ garded the absoluteness of his words and sought answers.

“Can you be more specific? What did I say and when?” Truly seeking to understand and reconcile, I remained calm. I waited on his response with wide eyes and a partially open mouth. I no longer had to hope my confusion was evident. Flabbergasted was written all over my face.

“I don’t have any specific examples.” He snapped. The tension in my body started to rise and RP paced back and forth within.

“Well, next time you notice something, let me know in the moment.” I managed a smile and attempted to sound more chipper than I felt. Although I was unsure about how we found ourselves debating my disposition, I was ready to smooth over this little road bump and get on with the trip. As I took a deep breath and relaxed my shoulders, Kevin again spoke.

“It’s just the way you say things. It’s how you talk to people. Your tone.”

I considered his brief elaboration. I had interacted with a few waitresses and a rental car agent. A proponent of common cour‐ tesy, I was sure to use the phrases excuse me, please, and thank you any time I conducted any interactions with customer service individuals.

“But you can’t give me any examples?” I asked with a hint of sarcasm in my words. Annoyed by the exchange, RP’s voice over‐ took my own and added, “Have you considered it’s how you have chosen to interpret things?”

He briskly turned to look at me, as if asking if he misperceived my actions was the most offensive question he had ever been asked. I shrugged and again calmly asked that he notify me in the moment if he noticed it again. He nodded. I connected my phone to the speakers and bopped happily to the soundtrack. Kevin remained silent for the rest of the drive, and although he did not speak another word, his question echoed in my mind.

“Have you always been so sassy?”