In the end, being committed meant nothing to her even if her lack of reaction broke the hearts of her friends.
Annie blinked a couple of times when the cat peeped out from behind the tree. A beautiful, white cat with keen green eyes stared right at her. Not that Annie was interested. The cat had stiffened, as if waiting to be attacked. That held Annie’s attention briefly. Then she looked away until the cat felt brave and slipped into plain view, revealing a heavy swollen belly.
Annie saw from the corner of her eye, wondered if the cat was a stray and watched as it sniffed around. It fled when the nurse returned.
“Everything okay, Mrs. O’Reilly?”
Annie realised she was sitting forward, staring, and leaned back into the wheelchair without a sound. The nurse sighed and took Annie back to her room.
The next day, Annie saw the cat again. This time it mewed at her, begging, crying, a persistent noise. Annie shivered at the sound but said nothing. Did nothing.
Two days later, Annie carried the food she refused to eat in a napkin. When the nurse left her, she stood up slowly, unwrapped the meat, and laid it by the tree. The cat watched with wary eyes until Annie sat in the wheelchair again. The meat was devoured in under a minute. The cat approached Annie, circled her, let her tail touch Annie’s leg and wandered away. Annie pretended not to notice.
After a couple of days of meat, the cat leapt into Annie’s lap for the first time. Annie gasped, then touched the cat’s head. It pushed its ears against her fingertips, purred when Annie moved her hand in an awkward petting motion. She shooed the cat away when the nurse returned. The cat looked back at her and Annie felt like it understood.
Every day, Annie waited for the cat and felt how heavy its belly was when it curled up in her lap. Sometimes she spoke to the cat, tiny hushed words that said the things she couldn’t feel. Whenever the nurse returned, Annie was alone but somehow, she wasn’t the same.
Annie fretted the day the cat didn’t show up. She tore at her clothes in agitation and pointed to the tree when the nurse asked her what was wrong.
“Talk to me, Mrs. O’Reilly. Tell me what’s wrong,” the nurse said, her strong arms locking Annie into a tight embrace.
“Cat. The cat. She’s gone,” Annie said, gasping out sounds, trying to force the nurse to understand.
She didn’t. “Cats come and go, Mrs. O’Reilly. It won’t hurt you.”
Annie shook her head and ran, stumbling along, tripping over stones and grass in her urgency. She ran past the tree but the nurse caught her easily and held her still.
“I have to find her,” Annie insisted and the nurse hesitated, seeing that Annie looked more alive than she had in an entire year.
“Okay, okay. Me and you. We’ll look for a cat.” The nurse didn’t believe there was a cat but if it meant Annie would get some exercise then it was worth it. They searched the grounds of the hospital but there was no cat, not anywhere.
Annie wasn’t sure how long it took, but it seemed like an eternity before she saw the cat again. The swollen belly was gone and in its place was one tiny white kitten with a black patch over its eye. The kitten followed the cat around but the mother wouldn’t let Annie touch her baby. The cat’s pregnant belly had been so large that Annie couldn’t believe there was only one kitten.
“Poor girl,” Annie cooed when the cat jumped in her lap, leaving the kitten mewling on the ground. “Did you lose them?”
“Is that the cat we were looking for, Mrs. O’Reilly?” The nurse’s voice made Annie jump but she nodded.
“She came back,” Annie said, feeling an odd sense of wonder. “I’m sorry, nurse, what’s your name?”
The nurse flinched. It was the first time Annie had cared enough to ask. “I’m Wendy.”
“You can call me Annie. We should think of a name for the cat.”
“Maybe tomorrow we’ll bring some food,” Wendy said, watching as a smile crossed Annie’s face.
Every day, Annie and Wendy brought food for the mother cat. She ate her fill then lay and fed her kitten as the sun warmed her fur.
The kitten grew and finally managed to jump onto Annie’s lap, gazing up at her with interest. The mother cat hissed at her young and batted the kitten to the ground, ignoring its whining protest. The next day, the kitten tried to eat the food Annie lay by the tree but this time, the mother’s response was a vicious swipe. The kitten ran behind Annie to hide. When the mother cat left, the kitten wanted to follow but its mother hissed and swiped until it moved away. It was time for the kitten to go it alone.
Annie lifted the kitten and held it against her chest, her chin resting in its fur. One tiny tear slid down her cheek.
“Can I take it with me?” she asked Wendy.
“That isn’t allowed.”
“Until we find it a home then? It could die.” Annie was surprised to find herself caring. Just a little.
Wendy’s voice fell to a whisper. “Maybe if we’re sneaky.”
For weeks, everyone pretended not to notice Annie’s kitten. It slept in her bed, joined her on walks, and most importantly, soaked up the tears that finally made their way out of Annie’s eyes at night. It was there, a silent comfort, when Annie woke up from her nightmares covered in sweat. It was there, even though the mother cat never returned.
Annie’s heart swelled with love and the stone wall she constructed around herself slowly chipped away. She dealt with the trauma, faced up to the future and unleashed the dam of sorrow and love that had been packed up inside for her for far too long.
“Maybe I’ll take her home with me. When it’s time,” she told Wendy who nodded and thought maybe some of her other patients could use a white kitten with a black patch over its eye. It wasn’t long before it really was time for Annie and the kitten to go home.
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Thank you for reading this short story collection. If you wish to know more about the author then check out her blog for more information – Doing It Write Now
Sixty Seconds Page 5