 And Then The World Intruded
"How long has it been snowing anyway?" Momma asked herself as she moved across the railroad tracks and towards the end of the street where the tunnel and her babies waited. She glanced up at the sky, but it was night and she could not see anything but the snowflakes falling as they were caught in the light from the various streetlights. It had stopped snowing earlier, but now the flakes were falling again and they were big and wet ones that stuck to everything, including her fur. She looked across the street that was next to the tracks but there was no traffic to contend with. So she trotted across and went down the block of cluttered shops and small stores that were each as unprosperous as this unlucky neighborhood itself. Even a negative use of the word prosperous seemed out of place here where grand words have no meaning except as examples of opposition. Momma wanted to leave here and just move down the greenway, which was created by the elevated roadway that ran through this blighted neighborhood and left it, going on forever. She knew that somewhere there must be someplace better than here, where life seemingly had no meaning or value. She had seen the worst of the worst here. Yesterday she had come across a dead human lying in the roadway, discarded like so much refuse. Even rats and mice had deserted the area, seeking refuge from the legions of feral cats roaming and hunting. Momma remembered one time when she had caught a big rat. A human crawled out from under a pile of moldy cardboard and came after her to get the rat as if he considered it a delicacy. She tried to dodge the thief but, in her haste to run away, did not manage a good grip and dropped the kill after a couple of feet. The human snatched the thing up and tore at the flesh, relishing the prize. Momma had darted away, glancing back at the spectacle. Feral cats. Feral humans. And not enough rodents to go around. Momma shadowed past the closed shops, under the elevated road, and on to the corner where that street met a wider road. The train ran beneath the busier street in tunnels that reached parts of the city that were only legend to her. Across the avenue was an entrance to the tracks below and she crossed carefully, not seeing her next obstacle until too late. One of the odd human machines had passed this way, no doubt, and left the barrier in its wake. A wall of snow that reached in both directions as far as she could see blocked her usual path. She would have to climb. Momma gathered her hind legs for a leap, intending to alight on the top of the wall. But, when she landed upon it, she sank down as if it was made of the foam that sometimes floated on the surface of the puddles in the summer. She clawed her way out and down the other side. Not wet from her brief inundation and almost home, her spirits stayed high. She scampered across the open space that separated the subway tracks from this road and slipped into the shadows at the base of the walls. The stacked blocks curved inward and became a tunnel above her, shutting out the snow and erasing the wind. A narrow walkway hugged the other side and Momma followed this convenient path until the first junction. The small side tunnel cut off from the main one at near to a right angle. She entered this auxiliary tunnel and paused within to taste the air and sniff the cinder-strewn ground. There was no scent of a stranger, only her's and the babies'. A thick black pipe sprouted from the concrete floor and disappeared into the curve of the tunnel ceiling without a discernable purpose. Momma had discovered the pipe while searching for a safe shelter. Whatever else the humans had intended the pipe to do, it was hot and kept her hungry family warm while they sojourned here. Momma called out softly and padded nearer. The kittens were wrapped around the base of the pipe, sleeping. Only Mouschi heard and opened her eyes while punctuating the movement with a big yawn. The baby stretched and wriggled as her mother greeted her with a tongue bath. "Oh, you're such good babies for waiting here and not getting into any trouble while I've been gone," Momma said loudly enough to arouse the other two. "How hungry you must be! Move aside a minute and let me get comfortable so you can all nurse together." "Momma, is the white stuff still falling outside?" the little male, Tigon, asked from his usual position between his sisters. "Yes, more and more. I don't know when it will end," Momma said. "But it's warm in here... except for the big loud things," Serany said. "But they can't hurt us in here, baby-faces, so you don't have to worry," Momma said. The three kittens nursed awhile in silence, their forepaws kneading Momma's belly. She purred a lullaby and let them nurse until they were all content. She nudged the half-asleep babies toward the pipe and curled around them, holding the warmth in the circle of her body. "Tell us about our father," little Tigon said, raising his head and looking at his mother. "Again? I've told you all about him. What else can I say... except that he was the bravest cat I've ever known," she said. "I wish we could see him and meet him," Serany said with a wistful edge to her voice. "Yes, he would have loved you so," Momma said. "But he is gone. He must be or he would be here with us. That is the nature of this city. It is a dangerous place with all sorts of terrible things that could befall someone during a careless moment." "But what did he look like? He must have been real tall and big, to be so brave," Tigon asked. "Yes, he was tall and he looked just like you, little Tigon. You have the same reddish-orange color and the same lines of color that mark your face. Even now when I look at you I see his smiling face looking back at me, and I know for certain he lives on in you. And you. And you," Momma said, including each of them. "Gosh," Tigon said with his eyes so bright that they seemed to shine with an inner light. In the distance, a familiar rumble began, building to a roar quickly. Each prepared for the event that, though it occurred regularly, never got easier to bear. The speeding train flew into the tunnel and bulleted by their little alcove. The interior lights, fearsomely bright in the tunnel's darkness, flickered and froze their every movement into a separate tableau. The concrete floor quaked and the gravel clattered, filling the little alcove with a terrible noise, as if the machine would jump in at them had it not been shackled to the iron rails. As suddenly as it came, the express was gone and the burrow was plunged back into darkness and quiet. Not a perfect silence, for somewhere in the not-so distant gloom a muffled sound came, carried clearly by the tube of cement and brick. All the cats listened, for a moment, then Momma told the kittens to wait there and she nudged them back against the pipe with her nose. She got up and slipped towards the larger tunnel, listening and testing the air. At the place where her alley met the mainline, Momma stopped. She eased an eye past the corner, a quick glance and then a longer one. Seated on a low metal box next to the tracks was a human female. Young, Momma thought, though she was not a good judge of a human's age. The woman held a bundle to her bosom, rocking back and forth as she wept. Setting the bundle in her lap, the human blew into her hands and rubbed them together. After a minute or so, the bundle wriggled and cooed. A baby? Momma watched the young woman and her child for a couple of minutes, as they snuggled and rocked. Another good mother fallen to circumstance and brought to this lowly estate, like herself. So Momma decided to help her, one mother to another. She called out, but the human didn't hear her. She approached the woman and tried to talk to her but, when the woman saw her, she drew back from Momma as if some foul beast had materialized. Momma spoke out again and smiled. The human relaxed and resumed rocking, hefting the baby to her shoulder. "Shoo, little one. I have nothing to share." Momma heard the words but could not understand, so she said to the half-frozen woman, "Please come. I have a spot of warmth, and it's big enough for us all." Still her message failed. So Momma enticed the woman by running a few steps away towards the small alleyway and then coming back but only succeeded in attracting her attention, which was a start. Next Momma went up to her and grabbed the hem of her coat and tugged on it, and then let go. She moved off toward the alleyway. The woman stood and Momma repeated the invitation, over and over, until she became curious and followed the cat back to the dimly lit niche. The lady saw the three kittens nestled up to the warm pipe and got the idea quickly. With a tentative pat the human tested the pipe and evaluated its heat. With a wet sigh, she knelt beside the pipe and held her frozen hands against it. The human huddled nearer, taking up most of the room next to the pipe. Momma told the kittens to squeeze in where they could and tried to curl close enough to share the warmth, but was cold all the same. The lady gave an occasional sob, small hiccups of sorrow, which gradually subsided as her discomfort waned. As she started to warm up, she stopped crying and peered at her surroundings in the dim light. The soot, the cinders, the grimy pavement, and then she saw Momma lying far beyond the circle of warmth. She adjusted her knees to give the kittens more room, and tucked the baby inside her coat on the side closest to the pipe. She clucked her tongue, making little comforting noises that reassured Momma that no harm was meant while the woman lifted her inside as well. She kept her coat open just enough so that Momma could keep her head out, then they all settled down to spend the cold hours of night in relative safety and warmth. Somehow they slept. Momma was warm as toast inside the lady's coat but she was also cramped. Her tail was bent and stiff, seeming as if it would break with the slightest movement or touch. The lady's chest rose and fell with each breath as calming as a purr. Momma would have put up with much more discomfort for the sheer pleasure of this embrace. Momma must have slept, waking with a start. Relying completely on that innate sense that most animals possess and not on any external clues, she knew that it was almost dawn. Creeping carefully as not to disturb the woman and child, Momma wriggled her way out of the warm nest and checked her kittens. They were just waking up and greeted her happily. She lay down and, while they nursed, sang a birthing song about climbing tall trees and a kitten's adventure. The song was interrupted when their guest yawned loudly and groaned as she stretched out her cramped arms. "Momma, there's a giant," Mouschi said, finally noticing the woman sharing the shelter of the warm pipe. The kittens watched the human as she attended to her own baby. "It's all right, baby-cakes," Momma assured the babies. "Like us, she's cold, hungry and in need of a bit of warmth to sustain her. We don't own this special pipe and when nature sends you a good thing you have to share it with any others in need." "But a giant! What's she doing here when all of the giants have their own places that are warm and dry and full of all kinds of food?" Serany asked. Momma said, "Not all the giants are that well off and many know suffering as well as any animal." "But you said that the giants built this... the tunnel, the trains, and all of City," Tigon said, trying to nurse without taking his eyes off of the human. "Yes, that's right, they did, but that doesn't mean that all of the giants live in cream," Momma said. "I don't know why it is, but, apparently, amid all of the wealth and prosperity that these people have, there are still others who have nothing and who suffer for it." "But why Momma?" Serany asked. "I don't know. It's just the way it is," Momma said. "Then humans are bad?" Tigon asked with much puzzlement. "I don't believe that all humans are bad any more than I believe that all animals are good," Momma said. "I know bad animals and know of one human who is kind and loving." "Who, Momma? Who?" Mouschi asked. "The downstairs man, dear one. He loves me and I'm certain he would love you guys too, if he had a chance," Momma told them. "I go to him, and am always welcome. He feeds me and I'm sure he wants me to stay, but it is a long journey. One that must wait until all of you are big enough to make it, because I could not leave any of you behind." "Geez," little Tigon said. A wail issued from within the human's coat. The woman lifted out the baby and uncovered its head. She looked into the little round face and smiled. She bounced the swaddled child on her knee until the fussy whimper changed to a soft coo, before nestling the babe against her chest. Opening her coat and clothes to expose her breast, the human mother nursed her child while the kittens finished their breakfast. One by one, Momma drew each of her children within the embrace of her forepaws to wash away the night with her tongue. Both mothers basked for a short while in the glow of their contented children, until Momma noticed the human lady smiling at her. With such an invitation, the cat padded closer where the human could more easily reach her. Gently, the woman picked up Momma and stroked her silky pelt, smiling when the low rumbled purr began. "I don't know how you knew it, dear heart, but I couldn't have made it without your sweet help." The caresses continued in harmony with the woman's words and Momma arched her back and listened. "I've lost everything, you see." Momma liked lying in the lady's lap and stayed for a spell, even after the woman stopped speaking but, eventually, sensing the passing morning, decided that it was time to go - for all of them. Momma had made up her mind during the long bitter night to lead the young woman to the downstairs man. Considering his kindness to her, she couldn't imagine him acting otherwise to this stray human and her infant child. She leapt from the woman's lap and scouted the tunnel and the stairs beyond before returning to the pipe. She tugged on the hem of the human's coat and, having been the recipient of the cat's benevolent direction once, the woman understood the request at once. She wrapped her child while Momma gathered hers. Tigon protested, but only because he was first to be conveyed by the scruff. Momma placed him at the woman's feet and then fetched one of the girls. "You want me to carry your kittens, too? Sure, that is the least I can do. Here, and here, and here. Toasty?" She tucked the all the babies together within the swaddling blanket. "They'll keep my little Millie warmer, too." Three tiny triangular faces appeared above the folds. The human child smiled and cooed as the soft fur tickled her chin and neck. Tigon complained about being squeezed but Momma, with a stern look, told them to behave and be still. The human lifted the bundle into her arms and, as Momma trotted back up the tunnel, tagged along. With a small laugh, she said, "Yesterday, if someone had told me that I would be following a cat... Well, I would have thought they were crazy." At the junction, she paused - as Momma did - cautiously listening for an oncoming train or other possible dangers. "I don't know why I trust you so," the human said to Momma. "But I can't help believing that you have my best interest in mind, and that I could do a lot worst." The first thing Momma noticed when they exited the tunnel was that the snow had stopped and then that, despite the tattered remnants of clouds, the sun had found holes to peek through. Momma scampered up the stairs and turned toward where the sun had risen earlier, enjoying the hint of warmth in the glow. Glancing up at the human, wondering about her children's reaction to the larger world, Momma noticed the lady smiling, too. The little band trooped along, down streets whose shops and buildings had seen far better days, then into smaller alleys where those days had never been. The ramshackle tenements with their uneven pavements, broken glass and dilapidated stoops had contracted bad luck from earlier inhabitants and, like a virus of hopelessness, passed it on to the new. Momma went past the elevated front steps of three of these dreary buildings to the top of a flight of stairs that descended eight or ten feet until they bottomed out in front of a doorway. Light waffled into the dark well from a curtained window halfway down. The cat leapt to the sill and scratched the glass with a noise only slightly less annoying than fingernails on blackboard. Momma waited for the downstairs man, who sat in his big chair near a blazing fireplace. He leaned forward, his craggy face splitting with delight as he located his visitor on her precarious perch. "Just a minute, sweetness," he said, placing the occupant of his lap on the soft cushion. "Mike, we have company. Keep my chair warm." He shuffled across to the window and finagled the reluctant mechanism, until the sash slid free. The old man scrunched his fingers in Momma's thick fur and said, "Come in, my fickle girl." Instead of hopping in, as she usually did, Momma looked up at the human lady who had stopped on the second step. The old man followed her gaze and leaned out to look. When he saw her, his mouth opened while he started to say something but the words never made their way out. Instead the young woman came the rest of the way down the stairs and said to the man, "She brought me here. She saved my life last night by sharing her warmth with me. Look, I'm sorry... I'll go..." She started to turn away and ascend the steps, but the man called after her and disappeared suddenly. She paused. Had he fallen? A moment later he opened the door and stepped onto the little rag rug outside. His slippers were shabby but neatly mended and he smiled at her, much as he had at the cat. She whirled away, meaning to run away from the judgment she expected to see in his sharp eyes. "Would you like some coffee? It's strong and hot, the operative word being hot," he said. "I have strudel. The best around. Please, humor a lonely old man." She was still standing on the steps with her back to him, but she listened to him as he came up behind her. "My name is Bickman, eh Sol, and it's so cold out there for a little one." In that one quick look he had noticed Millie's tasseled hood. "Please, you're both welcome here." The young woman turned around to look at the man and a half-smile flickered on her face, but then it was gone all too soon. "Yes," she said. "It is so cold. I have her kittens as well." "Oh, the kittens," the man said. "I've tried to get her to stay here with me but, with the kittens out there, she could never do it. Please, bring them in, too. This is no weather for little babies of any kind. Or their mommas either." The man turned and held out an arm towards the open doorway, and the young women finally preceded him into the basement apartment. When she was in, he shut the door and then went to the open window and, after Momma came in, he closed that too. The young woman hovered near the door until Sol waved her to join him. She went over to the kitchen table and wrestled her burden out of her coat. First out were the kittens, who scrambled free as soon as the woman laid the bundle on the table. The old man fussed over the kittens and told Momma, after she jumped up beside them, how lovely they were. The three kittens did not know what to make of the humans or of being cradled so far above the ground in the uncertain nest of his hands, but Momma was there and she reassured them. Sol touched noses with each and chirped little endearments in their ears before kissing them. From another room, he scrounged a low-sided box and folded a pair of frayed towels into the bottom. He and the young woman caressed the kittens, and the baby giggled at the animated carrying-on. Finally, the downstairs man put Momma's babies into the box and found a safe quieter corner behind his chair near the fireplace. Momma hopped over the short side of the box to join the befuddled kittens, who were not used to being handled by giants. She bathed them, which soothed their worries and restored their natural curiosity. Soon, all three peered above the rim at the antics of the humans. Sol, now certain of Momma's comfort, turned to the young woman and said, "Are you hungry? I have some left over chicken and rice. Coffee or coke?" "Please, don't go to any trouble," the young woman said, digging out a couple of disposable diapers from her pocket. "What I really need most is the chance to clean her up. Can I use your bathroom? Do you mind?" "Not a bit. In there to the left. You, too, if you'd like. Door's got a lock. Lots of hot water and, you know, I have some old clothes - my wife's - that might fit," Sol told the woman. "Oh, that would be heavenly if you're sure you don't mind. I'm being such a bother," the young woman said. "Oh, and my name is Emma... Emma Teasedale, from Albany... and this is Millie." "Pleased to meet you Emma. Just call me Sol - my whole name is Solomon, but people seem to expect you to be fabulously wealthy if your name is Solomon - so Sol it is," the old man said. "Wait," he added, stopping her at the bathroom door. He went into the bedroom and returned with a big suitcase, which he passed to her. "You should be able to find something in there. Dot won't be needing them anymore." "Oh, I'm sorry. Is she dead?" Emma asked. "Yes, four years ago, and after thirty-eight years of marriage," Sol said. "But she didn't suffer, not like some of the people I've known... just one day she was here and gone the next. A blessing, I suppose." He was silent a moment and then said, "Anyway, you go ahead and I'll rustle up something to eat, in the meantime." Emma was in the bathroom for about forty-five minutes. She emerged looking resplendent in a pair of leisure pants and a warm cotton blouse that had belonged to Sol's wife. Sol turned from his pans in the kitchen corner and smiled, as he looked Emma and Millie up and down. "I'm glad Dot's clothes have finally found a purpose again," he said to her. "Oh, and this is just getting good and hot, so come and eat, my dears. Should I heat up some milk for Miss Millie?" "Oh, I'm breast feeding her," Emma said. "There's a market about eight blocks from here," Sol said. "Maybe later we can go and you could pickup a few things that you might need." "You've already done enough for me," the young woman said. "Anyway, I really want to thank you, just to be clean again and I know Millie feels the same way. I guess you don't miss things like a shower or a bathroom until you don't have one." "Well, you're welcome to stay here as long as you want," Sol said. "I owe you big time for bringing Momma's kittens to me. I was so afraid she would lose them, out in the wild world, since she seems to be alone. Not to be nosy, don't you have a husband or some family around here somewhere?" "Momma cat and I have that in common, too. I'm married, happily I thought, until the police hauled him off to jail for breaking and entering. I told him we didn't need much - just being together was enough - but he loved money better than me, I guess." "Awe, that's a shame," Sol said, shaking his head. "Yes, and the landlord, when he found out about my husband, threw me out and wouldn't even let me pack a diaper bag. He kept all our stuff," Emma said. They sat at the kitchen table and Sol dished up the piping-hot chicken and rice and some barley soup that he had prepared. The young woman ate with relish and she even gave some of the soup to Millie, who she kept on her lap while she ate. "That's not right," Sol said as the meal progressed. "I don't think he can keep your belongings, unless you owe him back rent or something." "I don't know, maybe we did. Joe always took care of all the money matters, I just did the shopping and stuff," Emma said. Momma got out of the box that Sol had moved from the table over to nearer the fireplace. The kittens had gotten warm and bored, and then had gone to sleep. She and Mike, the old tomcat that lived alone with Sol, came face to face. Mike bristled up his nose and said, "Oh, great... females and babies everywhere, I'll probably never get a moment's peace again." "I'm sorry, Mike," Momma said to him. "I'll try and keep the kittens quiet, away from you, and out of your fur. I don't think you realize how lucky you are to have such a big place. Surely, we can have a little corner of it without putting you too much out of joint." "Ah, duwish..." the tomcat said. He walked over to look into the half-sized box at the sleeping kittens, and paused for a moment, looking wistful. When he noticed Momma watching him, he put on a grumpy face and wandered off, grumbling to himself. The humans finished their meal and Sol gathered up the dishes while Emma played with Millie. The baby cooed happily until she wound down and started to nod off, her mother not more than a blink behind. When Sol was finished, he came over to the young woman and said, "If you're tired and want to lie down for awhile, you can use the bedroom, I'll change the sheets and that the bed is really comfortable." "Well, I haven't slept much in the last two days, but I can't take your bed." Emma said to the old man. "Why not? I'm not going to need it, and I think you should rest. Both you ladies are just about asleep sitting up," Sol said. "Well, if you're sure you don't mind." Sol could tell there was something else, but waited for his young visitor to frame her request in her own time. "Something else you need?" he prompted. "Do you have a telephone? I could call my brother in Albany." She shrugged. "I'd rather call my friend, Martha, but she can't drive. My brother is a jerk, but he'll come if I ask. When we get back to Albany, I'll call Martha. She'll help me figure out what I should do next." "Sounds like a good plan. The phone is right over here. Call anybody you like. Here! I'll write down the address so you can tell him where to come," Sol said. "You're being so kind, mister," Emma said while she reached out and touched the old man on his arm, tenderly. He blushed and smiled at the young woman before digging a pad and pen from a drawer in the kitchenette. Emma sighed as she approached the phone, and Sol saw reluctance in her eyes. That she paused more than once while dialing told him that she hadn't called her brother with any frequency, and he wondered about the wisdom of asking his help. She talked to several other people before she reached her brother. Though trying not to eavesdrop, Sol overheard enough to know that most of what Emma said was apologetic. He could see the effort it took for her to remain calm and saw tears in her eyes. From time to time she looked down at the sleeping baby's face and that seemed to help. Eventually she said, "Thank you," and read off the address before saying goodbye and replacing the receiver in the cradle. "Well, he's coming. He's angry and will be angrier before he gets here but he said he'll come and he will - if only to yell at me some more," she said. Sol asked her about her friend Martha. "She sounds like someone that you trust a great deal, " he said. "Yes she is," Emma answered. "She's the most sensible person that I know. She has every reason to be bitter and hold a grudge, but she doesn't. She's the kindest person I've ever known." "I know what you mean. Dot was the same way," Sol said. "She always knew the right thing to do, like she never even considered the other possibilities." "Yes, Martha is like that. She only knows one way, the right way and I value her advise over everything else," she said. "If only I can get to talk to her, I will know what to do then." Sol hoped this Martha was as remarkable as Emma remembered. "You should go take a nap." "But Larry will be here..." "Even if your brother left as soon as he hung up it'll still be four or five hours. If Little Miss Millie fusses, I'll tend her." Something told him that Emma would need all the rest she could get to deal with her brother. "Maybe, you're right. I can hardly stay awake, now that we're warm and comfortable. Are you sure you don't mind?" Emma asked. "Not at all," Sol said. "I'm up for the day, so you can sleep until he gets here and that will be fine. Lemme swap off those sheets quick for you." Together they remade the bed and Emma noticed how cozy the bedroom was though the door had been closed. "It's so warm in here," Emma said. "Is the fireplace the only source of heat you have?" "Oh no, my dear," Sol answered. "There's electric heat and the upper floors are heated by boilers that are right on the other side of that wall, which keeps it plenty warm in here. I just use the fireplace when I can get wood, because - well - Dot and I loved to sit in front of a roaring blaze. It's sort of like the camping that we used to do a lot of in times gone by." "Oh, I've never camped much," Emma said. "I never was a Girl Scout or anything, but I think I would like it, if it's half as good as the way you describe it. I'll keep Millie in here with me... she'll probably sleep for a long while, now that she's warm and safe." Sol left the bedroom, pausing in the doorway to smile at the two of them before going out and closing the door behind him. He checked on the kittens, turning the box around to even out the heat. Momma, drowsy from the warmth, was roused by the careful adjustment. When Sol lowered his frame into the armchair, she stretched, jumped out of the box and into his lap, purring as his fingers kneaded her fur. The realization came to him that, with all the other commotion, he had not fed her this morning. So he got up out of the chair to go to the kitchen and got a couple of cans of cat food out of the pantry. He divided the cans between two bowls - one that was Mike's and a mismatched one from an old set. He wanted to reassure both adult cats that neither was unwelcome. Both the cats ate with relish and although neither of them came close to finishing it all, he left the dishes sit on the floor for awhile afterwards in case either wanted more later. After they ate, Mike showed Momma what the kitty litter was for and a couple of other do's and don'ts about apartment living. Then the old tomcat asked her, "Where did you have the babies before this? It's so cold out there. I don't know how you could have survived." "Well, I knew a couple of places that were sheltered enough so that we could survive," Momma said. "But the best one, or at least the warmest, was in the roof of this building, but it had one drawback," she said, smiling, "there were a million pigeons up there and they make a terrible racket." "Pigeons... eh, yes," Mike said half to himself. "Come to think of it, I haven't been out of this apartment in over two years, not since the last time Sol took me to the vet." "Really?" Momma asked. "I hope that Sol won't mind if I go out, now and then. Of course, this weather is hard to contend with, but in better times, there are places that I like to go and just visit, one being the tall building that is not far from here. Sometimes at night I climb all the way up on top of it, just to sit and look at the view from up there. It so peaceful and you can see forever." "Hum, maybe you could show me sometime... although I don't know if I'll be any good at climbing anymore, seems like I just stopped doing such things and I don't know why," Mike said to her. "You never took a mate, then?" Momma asked the older cat. "I mean, of course, it's none of my business." "Yes, well in fact, I was mated once - a lovely thing, her name was Pingimaya and I loved her with all the exuberance that youth can provide," Mike said. "But she died, while carrying my babies - one of the beasts got her, and that was that." "But you could have taken another mate - and another," Momma said. "We have so little time here, some of us only a few months, so we must cram a lifetime's worth of life and loving into whatever time we get." "And your mate, what of him?" Mike asked. "He's still here! I know he's not dead! There's something else that keeps him away, away from his babies who he would love so completely," she said. "Yes, some of it is about our own choices, whether good or ill, but some of it just gets thrust upon us, as if we must overcome the challenge to be deemed worthy of life," Mike said. "I prefer to make my own choices, and deal with the challenges as they come," Momma said. "Your mate? What was his name?" Mike asked. "Sebala, but everyone just called him Red, because of his golden coat, all streaked with crimson. Tigon resembles him," Momma said. "My real name is Coupari but, since even the best humans can't understand our words, Sol called me Mike and, I guess, it could be worse," Mike said. Momma knew the old tom loved the downstairs man and his grumpy exterior was a facade - and a poorly maintained one at that. "How did you meet Sol?" Momma asked. "I was in the pound and only a day away from entering that room, from which you're never seen again. One day Sol and his wife showed up. I was in a bottom cage and he leaned down to look in at me, then he broke into a big smile and, the next thing I know, we were on our way home," Mike explained. "Horrible - I mean that you were in the pound! Sol saved you - that is so like him," Momma said. "Yes, Sol is, beyond a doubt, the best thing that has ever happened to me," Mike said, not pretending his usual indifference. "Me too," Momma said. "I was out wandering around trying to feed myself, and eating out of trash cans, when I came to this sidewalk and there walking along it was Sol. He coaxed me to follow him home. It was his smile that convinced me. When we got here, I jumped upon the window ledge and he fed me. I ate and ate. It was the best meal of my life, up to then anyway." "Yes, I remember - and I'm sorry I felt so insecure about your coming here. I know there are so few special things and people like Sol around and that we have to share them with others in need. But I'm just a grumpy old so and so, who was set in his ways," Mike said. "Can you forgive an old fool?" "Oh my, we've disrupted your world, haven't we? It is I who should apologize," Momma said. Sol was sitting in his big chair and had fallen asleep while perusing his daily newspaper that he liked to read from cover to cover. And the time just seemed to slip past them all as if the now was impatient to meet the next. Momma got back in the box and nursed the kittens, but they were not really hungry and they all soon fell back to sleep up against her stomach and punctuated the passing moments with contented sighs. Both Mike and Momma clearly heard the footsteps that came clomping down the outside stairs and ended outside the doorway. Someone banged on the door, not merely knocking but pounding as if they believed everyone within was deaf. Sol was startled awake. He sat up straight in his chair to call "Coming," as he struggled to his feet but the incessant banging continued. Sol opened the door carefully, with concern that the visitor would fall forward once the barrier was removed. A true giant stood outside. Momma hunkered down, sensing waves of fury from the imposing figure. He looked at Sol for a moment and then said, "Is this where my idiot sister is holed up?" "Well, if you mean Emma, then this is the place," Sol said as he moved out of the way while the Giant strode into the apartment and looked around. He was wearing blue jeans that stuck out from under the sheep-skinned coat that hung almost to his knees. He was also wearing a blue hat that said Pink Floyd across the front of it and Sol assumed that this must be some type of tractor or another. The man stopped in the middle of the room and yelled, "Emma, get your sorry ass out here. I don't have all day." Sounds came from the bedroom, then the door opened, and Emma, sleepy-eyed and bleary, stuck her head out and said to the large man, "Larry, keep your pants on. I've got to get Millie ready, and that's going to take a minute." "A baby? You stupid bitch. You marry a low-life and had his brat? As far as I'm concerned that doesn't entitle you to any special favors. Now get into gear," the man yelled. "He was a darned sight nicer than you've ever been," Emma said. This pissed the man off further. He stomped across the room and grabbed Emma by her long blonde hair, twisting it until he forced her to look at him. "You stupid slut. You coulda married Robert, who's a better man than your jailbird could ever be but, no, you couldn't love him..." "You bastard. Let me go..." Emma managed to say, yanking free. He reached for her again but Sol came across the room and approached the man, saying, "Now see here..." but he never got to finish. The large man flung out an arm, without even looking, hitting Sol in the chest and shoving him away like he weighed nothing. Sol stumbled backwards, bounced off the armchair and landed heavily on the floor. Millie cried out from the shadowed bedroom and Emma dashed to comfort her. Sol! Momma flew from the box and sunk her unsheathed claws deep into the bad giant's leg. She bit at his hand as he hopped, yowling, around trying to shake her loose. She fell, landed gracefully and prepared to strike again, but couldn't dodge the desperate kick. She was thrown toward the fireplace where Sol gathered her in. The big man took a step toward them, fists clenched. Mike, slowed by age and comfortable living, darted out from under the table and into the stranger's path, hissing and spitting. His snarl, long silent, ripped into the room as an old tomcat's warning to a potential foe. The man kicked a heavy boot toward Mike, caught him solidly. The brave male skidded and lay still against the wall. "Stop, Larry. Please stop." Emma came out of the bedroom, cuddling Millie and carrying their few belongings. "You've hurt him." She took a few steps toward Sol but her brother grabbed her elbow and jerked her to a halt. The coats, hats, and blankets tumbled from her arms. The baby wailed as Emma nearly dropped her, too. Mike shook himself and crawled to Sol and Momma. "You stupid bitch..." the large man spit out at Emma. "I came all the way down here to get your stupid ass, so you had better act a little grateful. Now we're leaving - whether you're ready or not." Larry began to pull Emma across the room towards the door. "Larry, at least let me get my things. My coat. Larry please," Emma said through the tears that streamed down her face. "My shoes, Larry... But the big man would not listen or stop, and he dragged Emma across the room. Opening the door barely slowed him, and then he hauled her through it. Sol and the two cats watched as they struggled up the stairs, past the window and then they were out of the stairway and the commotion trickled off as they moved out of earshot. Sol heaved himself up and closed the door. He sank into his chair and clucked to the cats, checking them for injury when they jumped into his lap. The kittens huddled in the box, whimpering in fear, and Momma jumped in to comfort them. Sol stroked her back, quickly at first, and then slower as his agitation evaporated. "What the heck just happened here?" Sol queried into the air around them. "How do good people like Emma end up under the control of people like her brother?" The two cats did not know why or how, so instead Momma reared up and kissed the hand that scratched her ears. The old man broke into that infectious grin of his and things seemed better. Though they often thought about the pair, that was the last time they would ever hear from Emma. Whatever happened to her and Millie remained a mystery. Copyright © 2003
William Berry
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