Cat Lady, page 20
‘I have a cat, girls,’ Marie said a week later when she delivered us some meals. ‘And you can come visit her whenever you like.’
So, after school, we started to stop by Marie’s house. Her big, fluffy cat called George distracted us from reality for however long we could stay. No one ever talked about what happened to Wotsit.
Mum never came home.
23
I stay with Pigeon as the sun beams through the window and eventually disappears. I lie there, not moving, not letting her go until the sky turns dark. I resist sleep but eventually it takes me.
I wake in the morning, for a second fooled by her soft fur but then reminded by her hard body and my heavy heart. She lies lifeless on the bed and once again this week I remember my mother. I didn’t understand death then like I understand death now, but I was taken to hospital to see her. The only dead bodies I’ve ever seen: my mother’s and my cat’s. I wasn’t with my dad when he died, I didn’t want to be. He was the reason I longed for love but pushed it away if it came too close. It got worse and worse and worse, the feeling of inadequacy. The inability to love, to find peace in anything, no matter how much I latched on. And then that night when I couldn’t live with the feelings I had been infested with for so long, I jumped. I jumped to what I saw as freedom. I was serious, I wanted it all to end. But it didn’t and that made me so angry. I’d decided what I wanted and again humans stopped me living the life I deserved. I was going to jump again. A circle of attempts. I’d be dragged to safety, then I’d do it again and again until no one got in my way. I wanted to float down a river and into the sea. I wanted to be as lost in death as I felt when I was alive. But I only jumped that one time, because I found Pigeon. From the second I picked her up I knew. I knew that I had to do whatever I could to keep her alive. I knew that if I did that, I could also live. No such thing as just a cat. The love I longed for had finally arrived. She opened my heart enough to find work, a family. Nothing would ever be a romantic fairytale for me, but at least I was living, at least I was trying. Love opens gateways inside of people, enabling them to take on bigger things. That’s what Pigeon was to me: the beginning of the rest of my life.
But now she is dead and that is over. There is nothing I can do. And tomorrow, she will still be dead and there will still be nothing for me to do. I’ll just have to exist.
My phone buzzes. A text. I reach for my tote bag, not breaking contact with Pigeon. I have multiple messages from Tristan.
Come down, I can take the cat away for you.
You can’t keep her up there.
Come down, Belinda feels awful. She’s really beating herself up about it.
Oliver is worried. He wants to know if his notes helped find her.
What are your plans? You can’t keep her up there.
Not one single, ‘Are you OK?’
I get off the bed and put on an outfit made entirely of fleece. I smooth cream on my cheeks because they hurt from all the tears. In the reflection of the bathroom mirror I see Pigeon on the bed. Lifeless. Grief hits me like a bullet and knocks me to the floor again. Some breathing and I get up. I remove the desk from in front of the door. I pick up my darling Pigeon and I go downstairs. In the kitchen, Belinda looks like she’s been crying more than me.
‘I’m sorry,’ she bawls while Tristan comforts her. ‘I shouldn’t have left the door open.’
‘She’s devastated,’ Tristan tells me as he strokes her. ‘Come on, Mia. Tell her it’s OK.’
‘It’s not OK. My cat is dead and it’s her fault.’
‘Mia, please,’ he begs, but I see no reason why I must bring comfort to a person who has brought me so much pain. I push past them both and go out into the garden. I can feel them watching me through the glass kitchen doors. I lay Pigeon on the grass. Oliver is behind me, the dog sniffs Pigeon.
‘I won’t let him hurt her,’ Oliver says.
‘Thank you, Oliver,’ I say. I believe him.
I find the shovel from inside the shed. Belinda looks terrified, like I’m going to kill her with it. The thought might have crossed my mind. I head over to a little spot under a myrtle tree. On hot summer days I’d often sit under the tree with Pigeon on a lead. She’d lie in the sun like she was on the most luxurious holiday of her life. I was often criticised about not letting her out, but look what happened the one time she did it without me. A mother knows best.
‘What are you doing?’ Oliver asks me, as I roll up my sleeves.
‘When people die you sometimes bury them in the ground. So that is what I will do with Pigeon, I just need to dig a very deep hole.’
I push the shovel into the ground and push it down with my foot, it’s much harder than I thought it would be. As I lift it, a few scraps of earth come away. I push it down again, press it back, and lift a little more dirt. I do it again and again and again until I can’t do it any more. The hole can’t be more than three inches deep.
‘You have to help her, we need this to end,’ I hear Belinda say. And then Tristan is next to me, he puts his hand out for the shovel and I give it to him. He stabs it into the ground, pushes it with his foot, presses it back and lifts a little more earth than I could manage. He does it again and again and again. Sweat pours from him, he shakes out his hands because they must be hurting. He stops.
‘I can’t do it,’ he says, ‘it’s too hard.’
‘We have to do it,’ I tell him.
Belinda steps in, she takes the shovel. She stabs it into the ground, pushes it with her foot, presses it back. She gets less than both me and Tristan. She does it again and again until she sobs with defeat. ‘It’s impossible. The earth is too dry.’
I get on all fours and kneel over the pathetic hole. I use my hands to dig and dig. Oliver joins me, so does the puppy. We are scratching at the ground, trying to get as deep as we can. My fingers start to get sore; I think I see blood. Tristan is telling me to stop, just give up. But I can’t. I’ve had Pigeon for twenty-four hours now, it’s just a matter of time before she starts to turn, and I can’t have that happen. I don’t want to take her to the vet and never see her again. I want her here, in my garden, so I can visit her every day.
An alarm goes off on my phone. With a muddy hand I take it from my pocket.
Bereavement Group starts in 30 minutes.
I didn’t realise it was Tuesday.
‘Where are you going?’ Tristan calls after me.
I don’t answer as I leave with Pigeon in my arms.
24
It’s 7.10 when I arrive at the Methodist Church. The door is closed, the session has begun. I look down at Pigeon’s body slumped over my forearms. My fingernails thick with dirt. My hands filthy. My shoes, knees, elbows, all soiled.
Rather than risk dropping Pigeon by using the doorknob, I just kick the door open. When I see them all sitting in the circle, everyone but Greg, I fall to the ground and scream through tears. Immediately they surround me. Muffled voices fill my ears.
‘You’re OK, Mia.’ ‘We’ve got you now.’ ‘Someone make her a coffee, she likes the instant stuff.’
I’m led over to my chair; I am sat down. I can’t work out what people are saying. I want to explain myself. I didn’t plan this.
‘I’m so sorry. My cat wasn’t dead. I came because I needed people. I never thought I’d find you. I listened to you all talk about your losses and I couldn’t imagine how it would feel and now I feel it and it’s the worst pain I’ve known. But you were right, Martha. It’s not because she was just a cat: my mum, my dad, my past, my future, it’s all wrapped up in the love I gave to Pigeon and now she’s gone and I’m left with it all but none of the good stuff. Which is what she was. She was the only good stuff, now it’s all awful.’
Ada is at my side with her hand on my back, Lee is at the other with his arm around me. I turn my face into his armpit and keep it there, in his warmth. He doesn’t seem to mind.
‘We tried to dig a hole but the ground was too hard. I don’t want Tristan digging a hole for Pigeon. I don’t want him near us.’
‘It’s OK. It’s OK,’ Lee says. ‘I’ll dig the hole. Just let me know when and where. I can do that for you no problem, and we will lay Pigeon to rest. OK?’
‘OK.’
My breathing slows. I’m feeling calmer just being here with them.
‘I think I need you all,’ I say, sounding stupid. ‘I just needed to be with you tonight. When I realised it was Tuesday I was so relieved. I don’t have many people in my life that I can talk to.’
‘That’s why we are here,’ Tiana says. They have all pulled their chairs closer. The circle is getting tighter and tighter. I am so glad I came. Where is Greg?
My phone rings. Lee asks me if he can get it for me from my tote bag but I say, ‘No, it will be my husband.’ It rings again, and then again. We all sit in silence while it rings out.
‘Are you sure you don’t want to answer it?’ Tiana says. ‘If it is your husband, we are all here to support you through the conversation.’
It keeps ringing. If I don’t answer now, he will keep calling. I nod. Lee finds the phone in my bag. It’s stopped ringing, but there is a message on the screen saying, ‘Five missed calls from SIMON’.
And a text that says: Come to the hospital. It’s Liz …
I walk straight up to the welcome desk.
‘You have a Liz Voyce here?’ I ask shakily. ‘She is my sister.’
The receptionist looks immediately at my hands, which are thick with dirt, and the object that I am carrying. I realise Pigeon’s tail has come free and is hanging out. ‘I’m sorry, you can’t bring live animals in here,’ she says.
‘It’s not alive,’ I say.
The woman looks horrified. ‘You can’t bring ANY animals in here.’
‘Please, my sister is here. She’s really hurt.’
‘Leave the cat outside, and you can come in and I will locate your sister for you.’
I walk back out of the hospital, it’s a chaotic scene. Ambulances, people walking, people in wheelchairs. It’s grim. Illness and fear. I see a bush in the middle of a little grassy area. I take Pigeon over and hide her underneath it. I cover her with leaves and take the blanket with me, so no one mistakes her for rubbish. ‘I’ll be back for you soon,’ I tell her.
Back in the hospital I am given directions to find Liz. I get to the room she is in and as I go to open the door a nurse tells me I must wash my hands. She looks at me as if I need special care, and rather than make me feel bad for that she guides me to a sink. She takes my hands, one by one, and lathers them up with soap. She massages them with warm water until the dirt comes off and the brown water runs clear. She says nothing to me, but the gentle touch of her caring hands makes me cry.
‘My cat died, and my sister fell down the stairs and is unconscious,’ I tell her.
‘Life can be really unfair,’ she says, drying my hands with a blue paper towel. ‘But with the right people around you, you can get through anything. Stay close to the people you love. OK, you’re ready to go in.’
The kindness of strangers can get you to the next place you are supposed to be.
When I walk into the room, I see Liz lying on the bed, eyes closed, tubes up her nose and in her arms. Her skin is pale, there is blood in her hair. Simon is next to her holding her hand. When he sees me, he gets up and gives me a hug. He’s never hugged me before, it’s a strange feeling to have known someone so long and to have never felt their body. I stand motionless with my arms dangling by my sides. He squeezes me extremely tightly and sobs into the nape of my neck. I feel his tears on my skin.
‘It’s OK, it’s OK,’ I tell him, having no idea if it is.
‘He set a trap at the top of the stairs. He said it was to stop people going into his room.’
‘Who?’
‘The foster kid. You met him.’
‘Liz said he was trouble. What has the doctor said?’ I ask.
‘They’re worried she has a vertebral fracture, they’ll be taking her for a scan soon. Right now, I just want her to wake up.’
I walk over to the bedside holding my breath. ‘I’m here, Liz. It’s Mia.’ I sit down and press my head to her hand. ‘Pigeon died so you can’t die too. I need you.’
The machine she is plugged into is beeping. I know from TV that’s a good sign but it’s not good that she is plugged into a machine.
‘She’ll be OK, Simon. She will.’
‘How do you know?’
‘Because she has us.’
I sit with Liz for an hour. She is such a unique woman, but here in a hospital everyone is just the same. Human beings in white gowns in the hands of doctors who don’t care who we are or who we love, they just want to make us better.
I must get back to Pigeon. Simon says he will call me after the scan to let me know how it goes. I tell him I can come back with clothes for him or sit with her while he goes home for a shower. I don’t think he’d leave her, but it might be good for him to take a walk. It’s strange to feel like family with him, but we are. It took this for us to realise that.
It’s dark now, there are fewer people around. I scoop Pigeon up, wrap her in the blanket and carry her home. She’s feeling different now, not like Pigeon at all. It’s been over twenty-four hours at least since she died. I don’t have any more time.
When I get home the house feels quiet. The clock says it’s 2 a.m. Oliver and Tristan are in bed. I had no idea it was so late. I walked for a long time. Just me and Pigeon walking the streets. Me trying to get as much time with her as I could, postponing whatever has to happen now. I go straight to the kitchen.
‘I can’t keep you like this any more, Pigeon. And I need a little longer to work out what to do.’ I hug her and kiss her on her head. It’s wet, from more of my tears. I don’t know how my body keeps making them, I can’t have a drop of water left. I open the freezer drawer and take out multiple half-empty boxes of fish fingers, chicken nuggets, pizzas and vegetables. I create enough room and I place Pigeon inside. I shape her so she’s curled up nicely, just as she would be asleep.
‘I’m sorry. I’ll get you out as soon as I have worked out what to do. I’ll be right here.’
I close the drawer and go up to my room to get a pillow and our blanket. I bring them to the kitchen and put them down next to the freezer. I lie down, wrapping myself up in the fleece, my head on the pillow. I fall asleep on the kitchen floor.
I’m woken by the threat of daylight through the window. Buster is licking my face. There is a terrible smell.
‘Off, get off,’ I say as I brush him away. The smell is putrid. Did I leave the freezer open? Is it Pigeon? I get to my feet and check but it’s closed. I open it slowly, Pigeon is there. She looks so beautiful. Perfectly preserved, I could keep her there forever, who says I can’t? I lean down, no smell. I look around and see the boxes of food that I took out. A mix of defrosted fish fingers and chicken nuggets is blending in the air with the smell of a huge splattering of puppy poo all over the kitchen floor, luckily nowhere near me. It makes me laugh. To think how many times Belinda shamed me for Pigeon having the occasional mishap and now look at this, their own beloved puppy’s shit all over the floor.
‘Thank you, Buster,’ I say, leaning down to him.
I see my phone light up on the counter. It’s 6 a.m. A text from Simon.
Some good news, she won’t need surgery, she’s awake and asking for you. When can you come?
I leave immediately.
When I walk into the hospital room Liz is sitting up. ‘Wow,’ I say, taken aback. ‘This is an improvement.’
‘She’s very lucky,’ Simon says. ‘Should make a full recovery.’
Liz looks weak but she’s smiling. ‘I’m OK,’ she says gently. ‘Just sore.’
‘Simon, why don’t you pop home, have a shower and get changed. I can stay with her until you get back,’ I say, wanting Liz all to myself.
‘I will. And I’ll check in on Mum and the kids, I’m sure she’s doing fine but I need to hug them all. You know?’
‘It’s like he fell down the stairs and came back up with a new personality,’ I say, when he’s gone. Liz tries not to laugh because it obviously hurts.
‘He loves me.’
‘He does. You scared me.’
‘I’m sorry.’
I hug her the best I can without hurting her.
‘That kid. What a shit,’ I say. ‘What the hell did he think would happen? There’s no way he didn’t mean to do some damage.’
‘We’re all just a product of what’s happened to us. I was going to give him everything I had.’
‘Well, you almost gave him your life.’
‘I’ve still got my family, we’re all OK.’ She smiles. As long as there are people who need her, she’ll get through anything.
‘How are you?’ she asks, breathily.
I wonder if telling her my horrific news is the right thing to do, she’s got enough of her own to deal with. But I know my sister, and there is no such thing as an emotional burden for her.
‘Pigeon died.’
‘No, Mia.’
‘Belinda left the door open. She got out and was hit by a car. I’m angry that I can’t just be sad, I have so much rage to process too. It shouldn’t be like this.’
‘Anger doesn’t matter in the end.’
‘In the end?’
‘When I woke up, I didn’t know where I was. Simon was in the bathroom and I just saw that I was here and honestly, I thought I was going to die. Do you know all I could think about?’
‘Who would make Simon endless cups of tea?’
‘Don’t!’ She’s sore, laughing hurts. ‘I thought about everyone I loved. I didn’t think about Dad, or the people who have hurt me, or the foster kids who have been abusive, or even the one who made me fall down the stairs. I thought about Simon and the kids, and I thought about you. It was all that mattered. That I had you guys. We can’t act like we don’t need each other any more Mia.’
