by Y G Maupin
Anesta drew in a quick breath and held it. The cat just spoke to her. About here sister.
“Please let me in. You take very long showers and I’ve been trying to get your attention for the last hour. Just what in the hell are you doing in there,” he said, licking a paw.
Anesta turned around and dutifully like a woman under the influence of a spirit, went to the front door and opened it. The cat was waiting. He, as she assumed it was male, strode in and promptly jumped from the floor to the armrest of the couch to the top of its back. Sitting there he turned to Anesta and cleared his cat throat.
“I know this sounds rather ridiculous, and I’m more put out being used as a messenger, but Anjolie told me to tell you that will be sending you help through another spirit.”
“Cats talk?” Anesta was incredulous. She felt like Alice in Wonderland.
“Some of us do, but most of us would rather not.” he replied. “Listen close because I want to leave as soon as I impart this to you. She said it would be a man, someone that you didn't know but that she could trust to help you. She said that she was going to come back with what you asked for. And that's it. Ok, goodbye,” and with that he jumped down to the floor and flicked his tail as he waited impatiently for her to let him out.
“Wait! How will I know? You can't just tell me some other spirit is coming and leave like that. I have no idea who to expect. And why do cats speak yet we’ve never heard. And is it only cats or other animals too?” she said, feeling foolish.
The cat looked up at Anesta and meowed in exasperation. “I don't know, she didn't tell me. As for the other animals, the ones in the wild can speak, The ones that man has domesticated and held dominion over, poor creatures, have no real thoughts of their own to express. They are only with you out of blind love. Fitting for a dog, dreadfully sad for fish and birds,” he said, with a sadness in his cat voice.
“Ok, now time for me to go. I serve others and only helped Anjolie for the kindness she gave me. I have paid my debt. Come on now, open the door and let me go,” he urged, meowing plaintively.
“Wait,” Anesta countered. “One more thing.”
“No. No more things.” the cat insisted and started to pace in a figure eight in front of the door.
“When did you see my sister last?” she asked, folding her arms over her chest.
The cat paused. “I saw her this afternoon. She came to look for me and she made me promise to tell you when you get home. I’ve been out, avoiding the number of spirit zombies dragging themselves everywhere, but I’m here now. I told you what she asked me to tell you and now I need to go.” he said.
Anesta smiled. “You’re lying. I think I’ll keep you.”
“You’ll do no such thing. How dare you! I have claws, you know,” he threatened, backing into the corner near the umbrella stand. Anesta inched closer, grabbed the cat and put him in her laundry room.
“There,” she said, heading back to her room. “I’ll deal with him tomorrow.”
When T had gotten home she quickly set herself to clean the spare bedrooms and the guest bathroom. There was never an end to dusting once you move out to the country and the dust bunnies multiplied out here like their live counterparts. She had gone to the freezer and pulled out some ground beef and sausage to thaw for spaghetti that night and made sure she had enough pasta. She texted Beryl and asked her to bring some loaves of french bread and extra parmesan cheese. Looking over her kitchen, where she had avoided making any kind of elaborate meals for the last six and a half months she set to making sure she had enough bowls and clean wine glasses for dinner tonight.
She used to love entertaining when Jackson had asked her to move in. It was a beautiful feeling of warmth to have people seated around their table, eating and laughing as the night went on. She stood at the end of her table now, remembering that she would need to pull out the leaf to extend it. The last time they used it was for the wake they had after Jackson's funeral. She remembered how much his family struggled with the event. His mother had fainted at least twice and had to be revived at the cemetery each time leaning against the tombstones of others as they furiously fanned paper programs to get her air.
It was an unusually hot October with dead leaves covering the dying cemetery grass. There was no wind, the air was still and dry, also unusual for Texas that far North. T was in shock still as the coffin was lowered into the ground and the dirt was dropped onto its smooth glassy lid. His sister sobbed out loud and cried into her father's lapel. T had no family there for her. No one for her to lean on or to hold her when she wanted to cry out as well. Her last chance for creating a family was being placed in the ground before her eyes and was gone from this earth. She hadn't wanted to go home without him, but the people from the service were already there waiting for her when she walked in the front door that opened in the dining room. They all turned to look at her, most of them with eyes of pity and sadness but a few with looks of suspicion and disgust for what she was left behind. T stood there like a mannequin and burst into tears. As she stood in her kitchen area now, she shrugged off the painful memory and started rearranging chairs to continue cleaning. Once T had finished sweeping the hardwood floor of the kitchen, and put away the broom and dustpan, there was a light tap at the door. It was Sharon and Birdie. With a smile she let them in.
“ I thought you were going to spend time with your Mom?” T said, as she closed the door behind them. Birdie just shrugged and slid her backpack from her shoulder. Sharon made eye contact with T and gave a slight shake of the head to advise her to not pursue it.
“I changed my mind.,” Birdie answered with no emotion. “I have other people I would rather be around right now.”
Sharon shrugged her shoulders.”I’m just going to stay for a minute. I promised Randy that I would come back and make dinner with him. Poor guy.” Quickly she amended it. “Poor town! This is just crazy what everyone’s going through. I bet the church is going to be crowded on Sunday.” She laughed to lighten up the mood. Birdie sighed and shifted in her chair at the table. The small talk was getting to her but she didn't feel like getting up just yet. T just smiled sadly and put the kettle on.
“I keep thinking about the what if?” T started, and then went to the cupboards to pull out mugs. Sharon gave her a quizzical look while Birdie sat forlornly looking out the window.
“What if what?” Sharon said, taking the mugs from her hand and gently setting them on the counter.
“What if Jackson really does try to come back? How am I supposed to know? What if he doesn't make it across the veil quickly enough or doesn't have the guts to make someone give up their life? He's not that kind of guy,” she added, shaking her head as the kettle started to whistle. Taking it off the burner and setting it down she thought some more. “What if..what if I’m not worth it to him to come see me and he just comes back to start over with someone else?”
Sharon raised her eyebrows and made a who knows face.
“I don't know. I'm overthinking it again. When the accident happened and he died I spent so much time crying and wishing I had the chance to bring him back, to be able to talk to him one last time, And here we are, with a possibility for us to be together, and I can't imagine him wanting to come back to me,” she started to weep, and covered her face with a tea towel.
Sharon hugged her tightly. “Aww, sweetheart. You can't think like that. Jackson loved you and if he comes back, which I know he would if he knew he could, he will love you again. You can't think like that. You can't go around believing you're not worthy of love because then that's all you'll have.” Sharon pulled away to look T in the eyes.
The young woman looked paler than normal and had bags under her eyes. The events were getting to her as well with the added bonus of the high possibility that she had brought them on. Sharon gave her another quick hug and patted her shoulders. “No matter what happens. Whether he’s out there or on his way here, you're not alone! You have all of us, “ She nodded to indicate Birdie. “ An
d we are all you need to get by for now. We need us all to be ready for the big event tomorrow. We can't have our spirits damaged with things that may never happen or aren't likely to be true. So, lets get some tea and cookies going and think about where you’re going to put everyone tonight. By the way, what's on the menu?”
Sarah sat on the porch swing, lazily letting one bare foot dangle off the end as she read her book intently. She was glad that Alice agreed that they should stay at home for the evening and not burden T or Godfrey with an unnecessary move too early in the event. “Let’s just stay home tonight and rest up for tomorrow afternoon. We have plenty of room here rather than raining down on poor T,” Alice intoned, in a most unlike her maternal tone, Sarah gave her the oddest look and agreed.
“You know you're right. Let's let the younger ones gather first and stay up all night. For all we know, tonight may be our last night on earth together.” Now it was Alice’s turn to return the look of shock.
“If you say so, dear. I’m going to scramble up something to nibble on. Perhaps camembert or maybe get some smoked salmon and crackers out. I'm dying for a gin and tonic and the weather is just warm enough for me to believe that winter is over.”
Alice scurried into the kitchen and set out a tray and began to rummage in the refrigerator shelves. Sarah padded out and now on her swing enjoying her book, she looked over to the garden that joined the fence toward the Hendersons. So sad, she thought. Their deaths were not given a second thought by the community after the high school shooting, Olive would have been chagrined.
Their children would be coming home any day now to resolve the property and other family obligations and suddenly Sarah was overcome with sadness at the thought of her son and daughter, Evie and Grant. They were three and five, respectively when she was given her free pass out with the worst price to pay. They would be twenty eight and thirty now after all these years. Grown and with families of their own, she had hoped. She was not allowed to make contact and in reality she feared even looking them up on social media. Knowing that they were out there thriving and enjoying their young lives without a thought to their mother and where she had gone to that cold December day after lunch. She kneeled down and kissed their little cheeks hugging them so hard until they protested and she had to let go. She watched them walk out with their nanny and she sobbed with only the family attorneys present. But she didn't care if they did see her cry and wail, she was losing the only things that mattered to her but she had no other choice. She walked out of that brownstone in South Carolina and never looked back. Stayed one last night at the Hyatt and the next morning was on a flight back to New York City to start a new life. A different life.
Sarah never gave too much thought to her final years or how she would die, even though she was certain that it would be at Alice’s side, this much they both knew. Alice had joked once they had found out that there was no way to avoid it, that they could start living each day as if it was their last since they already knew the date. July 2, 2020. At first, Sarah laughed so hard at the news. Laughed until her throat was hoarse and she was gasping for air but then it gave way to moaning and crying and then quiet tears. It wasn’t enough time. It was too soon for her, she wasn't ready to go and she thought she wanted to change her mind but Alice squeezed her hand, looking into her grey eyes she nodded, and they both just knew that it was inevitable. They would be the sacrifice as was determined in the book hundreds of years ago.
Godfrey stepped out onto the porch. Holding a cut crystal rock glass with an amber liquid he sat at the wicker chair opposite Sarah, He closed his eyes and sipped the liquid, slowly, draining the glass and placing it empty at the table to his side.
“I would have never believed it, you know. But here we are at the precipice of...” here he struggled to find the right words. Waving his hands around he shook his head and nothing came to mind. “Something. Something that we have no idea how to begin, how to know we are on the right path.” He leaned back into the chair, resolving himself to give up his strict composure and give in to slight melancholy despair. Sarah smiled and closed her book, “No,I’m sorry. I’ve disturbed your reading.”
“It's ok. I have these poems memorised. I just read them because I know even if I skim them I know what the words say and what they make me feel,” she answered, bringing up her other foot on the swing.
Godfrey sighed and rested his head on his hand. “Are we promising too much?” he asked.
Shrugging.” Perhaps, But who will call us out for it?”
Alice shuffled out with a tray of drinks and quickly returned inside coming back with another tray full of crackers, cheese and fruit.
Godfrey watched her go back in and sighed. “Tyler and Yvette will meet us at T’s house tomorrow afternoon.” Here he grew quiet and traced the curve of the crystal glass. He also looked sad.
“Godfrey? Is everything alright?” Sarah asked.
The older man smiled with a weariness of one that had seen it all, and was still being asked to suspend reality just one more time. He sighed.
“Of course. There’s a lot of emotions that we’ve all been struggling with. I myself am only going off what you are all saying, not that I don't believe, but it's so much to take in. I'm ready for the challenge and hoping at the same time that we do have a solution to perhaps find a way to not have to fix anything at all.” He nodded at her surprised look. “Yes. I know it's unfair to say, but what have we done to ourselves? What has T done to herself, specifically? Do we let the unnatural take its course, society and all of civilization be damned? Maybe it's the start of a new era?” he finished, and stood up reaching over for his glass.”We have no idea why this is happening, There may be very little we could do about it.” Godfrey walked back inside as Alice returned with her own glass and one for Sarah.
“What was that all about?” she asked, setting the wine glass at the table next to Sarah.
“Nothing,” Sarah said, putting her book down and closing her eyes. She leaned back and stretched out. Looking around the garden she breathed in the cool air and felt like it was time to wake up and get to work. Everything else had been a cat toying with a mouse up until then.
Twenty Nine
“Hey, honey. You just rest right there and I’ll bring the soup to you,” Sharon called out to Randall, who had crashed on the recliner in their tv room. When she had gotten home from T’s place, she surveyed the area and decided that she would leave everything else to clean later and she would focus on her husband. Randall had been working double shifts and was only coming home to sleep. She had asked him if he was hungry and he moaned, “No pizza, please,” and started removing his uniform with his eyes closed, walking like a zombie into their bathroom to shower. Sharon would make him some soup with crackers, not that he was sick but a light meal would be best for him if he ended up sleeping fitfully like he had for the last three rounds of rest.
It was the same thing each time, come home after working understaffed and overwrought with the community and random deaths, undressing like a zombie, shower and collapse on the couch. Today had been no different and he appeared twenty minutes later, while she had been in the kitchen and he sat himself in the recliner where he rested now, towel wrapped around his midsection, only slightly dripping. “Sharon,” he called out.
She appeared at his side quickly, “Baby, what's wrong?”
He took a moment to answer, similar to a drunk man telling a story. “I don't want you to go to the grocery store for a while,” he said.
Sharon was perplexed and amused. He often talked in his sleep and this seemed like one of those moments. Whole conversations could be had with no recollection on his part. “Ok,” she smiled. “Any reason why?”
“Yeah.People are getting nuts and there's more open carry happening right now, I don't want you to be out and get caught in the crossfire of some idiot that is imagining his third grade teacher is back from the dead,” he mumbled.
Sharon stood up straight. More and more people wer
e seeing the dead and the dead had no problem making their presence known. “Ok, honey. I won't go unless you go with me.”
Hesitantly, she leaned forward and whispered. “Randall, have you seen any ghosts or things like that?”
His breathing was steady and deep. He was asleep. Sharon returned to the kitchen and went to a drawer in her cubby office, a little alcove set in where she sat and paid bills. Opening a drawer on the bottom left, she took out an item wrapped in red silk. It was a dolly, a likeness of Randall that she had made several years ago when they had started dating. He was a little smaller than her forearm and was made of cotton and felt. Over the years, she had lovingly amended his look. Adding his uniform on occasion, dusting him with a light coating of cinnamon when they had vacationed and wrapping him in eucalyptus leaves when he had a particularly bad chest cold. She had always treated him with care and she made sure that he was safely tucked away where no one else could find him.
Gently she placed him in her lap and she pulled out some red yarn from her pocket that she had brought in from her craft table. Whispering her words, she plaited a braid and fashioned a red belt around the dolly in a criss cross motion, the X crossing over the main part of the body. When she was done, she lovingly kissed the effigy of Randall and placed him back in the drawer under knitting magazines. Sharon sat back for a moment and started to cry and then she made herself stop. Drying her tears, she cleared off her desk and took out her journal. She wouldn't dwell on what may never happen. Instead, she would log her day and make plans for the rest of the week.