The Astonishing Thing

I bat his chest with my paw. I try to push the comforter down with my head. These are tactics that used to work with Mother, and I hope they’ll now work with Jimmy.

Many days have passed since Mother left, and still no one thinks to get up and feed me breakfast. My stomach growls in desperation until someone finally opens a can and dumps wet food into my bowl.

Jimmy’s hand is tucked under his head, and I nuzzle my wet nose against his bare upper arm. He has a funny scar that looks like a big crooked X on the soft underside of his arm. Usually the scar is hidden by the sleeve of his shirt, but he sleeps with no shirt on, so now it is exposed. I push my face right into the X.

Jimmy stirs. He grins at me, then scratches my head. My brother doesn’t get the connection between my persistence and food though. He rolls over and goes back to sleep, even though sunlight peeks through the blinds.

I give up. Forget breakfast. I guess it’s time to roll right into my midmorning nap.

I fall asleep on the dark red flannel sheet, right by Jimmy’s hand. I have a wonderful dream in which I am between Mother and Man on the bed. My back is pressed up hard against Mother’s stomach, and in my dream I know it is the time before Finn came, back when I was still the baby of the family.

Mother has her head on her pillow, and she’s telling Man a great story. Although my back is to her, I can hear the wonderful, excited sound of her voice. And from my vantage point I can see Man’s face. He is propped up on one elbow, staring at her, hanging on her every word. He is so amused by her. I can see it in the way he tips his head, a small smile curling his mouth. I am sure she’s told this story before, but she keeps going, and Man doesn’t interrupt.

I imagine what he is seeing: the dark curls falling around her face, spread out over her pillow. Her big eyes, full of excitement. The curve of her lips and her open mouth and her funny expressions when she is reenacting a scene. Mother is so dramatic. She smiles a lot and laughs easily, and my brother is the same way.

Man is different from them. He is still with his body, always watching. Listening. My sister is more like her dad; she studies people.

My dream is spoiled when Jimmy rolls over and sits up. But I don’t mind. Maybe now I’ll get food!

I follow him downstairs and meow repeatedly. C’mon, Jimmy. Feed me. He looks at me, puzzled, his hair—black like Mother’s hair—sticking up all over the place. Thankfully I see him head to the cabinet and pull out a can of food.

Now all he has to do is pop open the can! I think he can handle that. Maybe.

Mahmee has been coming to take care of the baby every day. But she doesn’t always make supper, so Jimmy has become an expert in opening cans and making sandwiches. Mahmee seems very tired by the time Jimmy and Mary get home in the afternoon, and sometimes she just leaves. I think taking care of Finn is hard for her.

Watching Mahmee walk down our steep wooden stairs, one step at a time with Finn in her arms, makes me verr-rry nervous. I can tell she is frightened too, the way she stays right up against the railing. The stairs are slippery.

I never sit on a stair when Mahmee is coming down.

Earlier this week, Jimmy made himself supper when Man had to work late and Mahmee had already left for the day. He put a can in the machine they use to heat up food. It created great sparks and a popping noise and foul-smelling smoke. An alarm sounded. The high-pitched whine was unbearable, and I ran to hide under a chair in the living room.

Mary came running downstairs and helped Jimmy air out the kitchen by opening a window, thank goodness. She shrieked at him, and he cowered from her. She ended up making five bags of popcorn in a row to get rid of the rancid smell.

“What the hell?” she growled at him. “Seriously, you forgot you can’t put metal in the microwave? What is wrong with you?”

“Sorry. Really.” Jimmy frowned as he stood in the corner, wringing his hands. “I just . . . I don’t know where my mind is lately. I can’t think straight. I can’t get anything right.”

I’m glad Jimmy did not start a fire while Man was out and burn our kitchen down. That would have been a disaster for all of us, but especially embarrassing for Man, who is an expert on fires.

Mary had a bad week. I kept catching her with those big, silver scissors again. She’d sit on her bed and place the sharp blades right up against her sleek blond hair, as if she intended to cut it. She’d also take one of the blades and hold it right up to her knee, as if she wanted to stab herself. Each time I watched her, alarmed. My little heart beat hard in my chest. When I saw her playing with those scissors, I jumped up to the bed and plopped myself in Mary’s lap. I knew it would force her to put the scissors down, because she wouldn’t want to accidentally snip off a piece of my delicate ear or my unpredictable tail. Sure enough, she gave me a kiss and relaxed her hold on the scissors.

Not a Cat frowned at me, grumpy and jealous. He didn’t like me up on Mary’s bed. But I had to do it.

Now it’s finally the end of the week, and today is the holiday the humans call Halloween, when they dress up in fantastical costumes. I know my brother and sister are excited. They have worked on their outfits all week in great anticipation, and they have been very talkative all day.

Mary dresses poor Jasper up in ridiculous hats and capes every year. You’ll never see me in a costume. Mary once tried to put one on me, but I kept wiggling backward to prevent it. She got the message. It was uncomfortable for me. Jasper will tolerate anything to please his mother, but Mary is not my mother.

Plus, I was too fat to fit into that costume.

I watch from the landing at the top of the stairs, curious. Jimmy is in his room, talking to someone on his small phone. When he comes out, his clothes are torn and his face is streaked with what looks like, but doesn’t smell like, blood.

Jimmy smells, in general. His underwear and socks on the floor interest Jasper and me a great deal. We love the smell of the humans, and we enjoy sitting on piles of dirty laundry. Jimmy is a big human, and he gives off a strong scent, a chemical that lets me know he is looking for a mate. I don’t know if the humans can sense it.

The problem is, he adds on a terrible, pungent scent from a bottle that makes my eyes water.

When he steps out of the bathroom after taking a shower, Mary moans, “Jesus, Jimmy, too much,” while holding her hands over her delicate face. He just ruffles his wet hair with a towel and snaps it at her. If she runs, he chases her.

She is right. Jesus Jimmy puts on too much of that stuff. It’s disgusting.

I am surprised when a girl comes to the door for Jimmy. I have never seen her before. Just as there are different breeds of cats, there are different breeds of humans, and she does not look quite like anyone in our family. Her skin is a little darker and her eyes rounder.

No matter. What interests me most is that she is a female, which means she will probably point to me, and crouch down, and make baby noises at me. All of which she does,just as I expect. Sometimes I run from a stranger out of caution. But this girl is patient, waiting for me to come to her in my own time.

I see why Jimmy likes her. She has good instincts. And she’s very pretty, despite the fact that she is dressed in torn clothing to match Jimmy, fake blood all over her.

She asks Jimmy a question. Jimmy picks me up, and I let him, my fat draping over his big hands. He carries me to the kitchen, and the girl follows. He hunts in the refrigerator and pulls out a little piece of ham. He hands it to the girl, who holds it out toward me.

Really? More food? I thought the can Jimmy gave me this morning would be all I’d get.

I grab it from her fingers with my teeth, being careful not to accidentally bite the girl. I like her. By the time they start to gather their things, I am happy and purring and sorry they have to leave. Man comes up from the basement and gives the girl a handshake. I guess he approves.

But when Mary comes downstairs, dressed all in red, Man is waiting for her and blocking the door. He points at her bare legs and shakes his head no. It is cold out, after all, which I think must be his concern. Mary pouts and stamps her foot but finally tromps back upstairs. She comes back down wearing bright red tights that match her very short red skirt. Man’s arms are folded and his face is creased, but he doesn’t say anything this time.

When Mary’s friends arrive they don’t come in the house, but I can hear them talking excitedly on the front steps, and they squeal when they see her. She hugs them all. Man watches her walk down the path to the street and then closes the door. He moves into the living room and I follow him, jumping up on the back of a chair. He waits and watches from behind a curtain, where she cannot see him.

When they get to the corner of our yard, Mary and her friends stop. Although her friends form a loose circle around her, I can still see Mary as she reaches up under her skirt and wiggles out of the tights. The girls are all laughing as she flings the tights up over her head with a flourish and then sticks them deep in the middle of a hedge. They walk away, giggling hysterically.

Man frowns, but I know he won’t go out there and yell at her in front of her friends. His arms are still crossed tightly.

Without Mother here, he is at a loss as to what to do.

I know that special days are a busy time for Man. He is often called to work, I assume to help people with their fires. Before Jimmy leaves, Man pulls him aside and points to his watch. I understand. Jimmy must get home on time, because chances are very good that at some point tonight Man’s little phone will ring, or the horn outside will sound, and he will have to go out.

But unlike every other year, Man is now alone with a baby. He can’t go anywhere until Jimmy gets back. I suspect he could tell Jimmy not to go out, but I think he doesn’t want to ruin Jimmy’s holiday, considering Mother isn’t here and that’s enough of a disappointment by itself.

Man spends the evening watching TV and getting up to hand out candy to the many children who ring the doorbell. I watch from the middle of the stairs, not too close. One woman with a toddler in hand asks brightly, “Where’s Carrie tonight?” Man just answers that she went out. He gives that child extra candy and closes the door. When he turns back around, I can’t read his expression.

Every time Man goes back to the living room, he anxiously glances at the clock. But he worries for nothing. I can see the relief on his face when his son walks in on time, Jimmy’s smile in contrast with his pale, painted face, which still scares me a little bit.

It turns out Man never gets a call to go work with a fire. But he tosses and turns all night.

And Mary is good. She does not stay out too late and get into trouble. I realize why the next day.

* * *

The family wakes up early, and they each take their time getting dressed, looking at one shirt and then the next. Mary changes her pants. Jimmy combs his hair. They are not getting into fancy clothes exactly, but just seem to be taking care with themselves. Even the baby is put into a new outfit. Man struggles with the baby clothes. He is mean to Mary and snaps at Jimmy as he tries to pack the baby’s things into a bag.

Mary clicks Jasper’s red leash on his harness. And then, they are gone.

In the late afternoon, when the sun is sinking low, Mahmee arrives. I perk up. She is carrying many bags, which I think means “Sunday supper,” the one meal she sometimes makes for us.

I’m not disappointed when I see what she pulls out of the bags!

I sit on a kitchen chair to watch her prepare the food. Mahmee plucks big, plump, juicy white scallops from a tray one at a time and places them in a pan. She grabs a red box of crackers from the cupboard, puts some crackers in a plastic bag, and then smashes them up with the base of a heavy glass. She sprinkles the cracker crumbs over the scallops and then melts butter in a pan to pour on top of that.

Deliciousness.

“I see you,” she teases me. “I see you.” Mahmee points a blue spatula at me with a devilish look in her eye. She dabs a finger in the butter—quickly, as I suppose it’s hot—and then approaches me. She puts her hand right near my nose, and I happily lick the butter off her finger.

“Wicked good, huh?”

Wicked good, indeed. I am loving Mahmee right now.

I hear the front door opening, and I run to greet my family. They look tired, and stay quiet, but seem relieved when they inhale the warm scent of the food cooking. Even the baby is calm, up on Jimmy’s shoulder.

We’ve always had fish a few times a week. I know we live near the place where the fish come from, because on some days I can smell brine in the air that wafts through the screen door. But we haven’t had fish lately, because Man doesn’t cook.

Standing in the front hall, Man closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. He’s been eating ham sandwiches all week.

When he opens his eyes, he and I are alone in the hall. My siblings have already gone into the kitchen.

I don’t know what to think. I wonder if he has seen Mother. I search his face, but I just can’t tell. I wish he could tell me. I think he wants to.

Have you seen her? Have you seen my mother? Is she okay? Please I wish I wish I wish I could just ask you this one question.

And then he looks right at me again, like he did a week ago. It catches me off guard, but I stare back and tip my head. He scratches behind his ear and his eyes water up.

“I’m sorry, Boo,” he says to me. He’s said that to me before. I don’t know what he means.

I walk back into the darkness under the stairs. I’ll get my scallops later. I’m really not in the mood to forgive Man, considering I have no idea what I’m forgiving him for.