Her Cat Died

Cadbury died in the middle of January, five and a half weeks after he was diagnosed by Dr. Harskirey. Between her parents’ concern and Dr. Snope’s questioning, Veronica might as well have been placed under a microscope for observation. For a girl who liked to be invisible under ordinary circumstances, being scrutinized like this, under extraordinary circumstances, was torture.

Mary tried to be casual about her furtive attention paying, but even she was getting on Veronica’s nerves. Everyone wanted Veronica to be okay because they loved her and couldn’t bear to see her suffer. It was a vicious cycle. She was not okay, they wanted her to be, she felt worse for making them worry, and so it went.

Hopefully Randolf would distract her. She climbed the marble staircase Tuesday morning as Sarah-Lisa Carver, Athena Mindendorfer, Darcy Brown, Auden Georges, and everyone’s new best friend, Melody Jenkins, looked over the railing. Veronica felt like a laboratory animal.

“Look. There’s Veronica,” she heard Melody say.

“Why are we staring at her?” Darcy asked.

“Her cat died,” Auden Georges said.

“She didn’t have a cat,” Athena said.

Ms. Padgett came out of the classroom and ushered the girls inside. When Veronica reached the top of the stairs, Ms. Padgett hugged her. It was all Veronica could imagine wanting. But Ms. Padgett’s embrace made grief burn behind her eyelids. Veronica felt naked and out of control.

She entered the classroom, keeping her head down. When she sat, Ms. Padgett led the room in Morning Verse.

I look upon the universe so tall,

The sun warms my heart and the moon guides my soul.

The stars above sparkle and the earth below informs my feet.

The beast and the pebble, the rain and the dawn,

Side by side.

Harmony to all things, great and small.

The sound of Morning Verse was like the voice of an old friend.

But the rest of the day wouldn’t be so easy. Without a script, Veronica didn’t know if she’d be able to speak or what she would say.

When Ms. Padgett was going over homework, Veronica raised her hand to ask permission to go to the bathroom.

She hid in the very last stall and cried. She took time out of math, poetry, and French to cry in there too. She even cried during the times she was in the bathroom because she had to go to the bathroom. She cried silently and she cried noisily. Sometimes she cried and instead of feeling sad, she felt wonder about the human body, her body in particular. How could it produce so many tears? She cried because her body knew no other way. Surely I have no more tears left, she thought over and over. But she did.

*   *   *

At dinner she pushed her food around. “Eat something,” her mother said. Mrs. Morgan spooned rice on her daughter’s plate.

“Please try,” her father said.

“It will make you feel better,” her mother said. “I mean, of course it isn’t going to literally make you feel better…”

“What your mother means, dear, is that you have to eat because grieving takes a lot of energy and you have to keep up your strength.”

“I think that is what you meant, Marvin,” her mother snapped. “I am perfectly capable of speaking for myself and enjoy doing so, in fact. Must you constantly interpret for me?”

“Marion, I’m sorry, I simply was trying—”

“Marvin, you are aware that I function each and every day without you there, by my side, interpreting and helping and explaining?”

Her parents bickered until they seemed to remember Veronica was there. Then they spoke at once, apologizing over each other.

“You poor, poor girl,” her father said.

“Tomorrow will be a month since he’s been gone,” her mother said. “That is a milestone. We care so much about all you’re feeling.”

“We care so much, darling.”

Veronica was glad they cared. If only they could make her feel better.