Midnight Theater, 25 February 2008

Do you like cats?

I have a story for you.

Listen closely.

The Cat

The night was cold. He pulled his blanket close, making sure that it covered his neck. He gazed at a blank sheet of paper in front of him, eyes unblinking. His hand hovered above the paper. Finally, with a sigh, he took a pen, and started writing.

I like hospitals.

He stopped for a moment. He looked at his balcony, expecting to see…. Something. Anything.

The smell of hospitals always seemed to bring pleasant thoughts to me. The smell of chemicals. Of sweat. Of blood.

Of life.

He put down his pen, and reached for his cigarettes. He lit it up. He watched as the smoke swirled to the ceiling.

There really was nothing wrong with me. I faked a cold, using tools commonly used by kids to fool their parents. Some ice, and a fucked up thermometer, and you’re set. I didn’t like school. I hated it. I detest it. I still do. The school was to me like a graveyard. Full of dead kids, and adults trying to revive them but they’re dead themselves. I like hospitals. It is full of life. I am dead inside.

He laughed at the humor, and choked on cigarette smoke. He put his hand over his mouth, and coughed, hard. Blood was dripping down his palm. He winced, and wiped his hand on his shirt.

The doctor was a bastard. It was evident in his eyes that as soon as my Mom walked into the examination room, he wanted to fuck her till kingdom come. And he showed no sign of concealing it, too. He gave her a certain kind of look that can only mean one thing.

He couldn’t remember his mother, except for her flowing blonde hair, and her eyes. The rest was vague, as if someone went into his head and erased her. Someone probably did.

And she, in turn, gave him a look that can only mean one thing. Why, I didn’t know. Probably because she was lonely, since my Dad left with another woman. Or probably she was just horny. The doctor was good-looking, I’ll give him that. He looked like Elvis in his hey-day, without the ridiculous hair. And the shitty walk. His smile was annoying, and he smelled of a cheap perfume. And cheap sex.

He looked at me and he asked, “so, what’s wrong with you, sonny?”

Of which I answered, “My throat hurts, I had a headache this morning, and I think I’m catching a cold.” Classic answer, and a bad one at that. But by the time he found out that I’m all well, the school would be over anyway.

Something flashed in his eyes. Opportunity, I later realized. Afterward he did some tests on me, all the while eyeing and flashing his fucking-annoying smile to my Mom, who sat on the chair by the wall, cross-legged. I didn’t remember what she wore.

Something stirred in the air. He tossed the cigarette butt to the trash can, and lit a new one.

After a while, he finally nodded to himself. “There seems to be nothing seriously wrong with you, kiddo. But just as a precaution, I would like to take a urine sample from you.” was what he said. He walked over to the cabinet besides his desk, his eyes darting to my Mom, and her legs. And whatever else she flaunted. He almost stumbled when she gave him a wink.

It was getting colder. He drummed his fingered on the table, trying to remember. He didn’t remember anything about his father either. He exhaled the smoke.

He handed me a small plastic cup-thing with a yellow lid. He led me -more like ushered me- to the door. He pointed to the hallway, not really pointing at anything at all.

“Go to the toilet, and pee in the cup. If you want to have some candy or anything, just ask a nurse., kiddo. Take your time,” he said. I looked at the direction he pointed out, and then looked back. My Mom was already standing up, her purse on the chair. She looked at me and said, “go ahead, honey. Mommy will be waiting for you here.”

There was really nothing peculiar about the cat. It was white, as white as milk. It’s eyes were yellow. It seemed to glow, even in broad daylight. It was sitting on the doctor’s desk. It looked at me.

And it smiled.

His pen stopped its movement. His hand was shaking. It was not getting any colder, but he shivered. His hair stood on his back.

Its face was not moving. But somehow it was smiling. It was the most horrible sight I’ve ever seen. I said to the doctor,

“That cat is scary.”

He looked at me, puzzled. He looked back. Then he shrugged.

“What cat, sonny?”

And he slammed the door in my face. I heard the lock turned. I stood there for a moment, hesitating. And then I looked for the toilet.

The nurse was nice to him, and he remembered her scent and her face well. She was pretty, and she gave him candies and showed him to the garden. Her name was Bella, she said.

It was about half an hour later that I walked back to the examination room. I hesitated again, in front of the door. I knocked three times. There was no answer.

I waited for another minute before I opened the door.

The room was empty. My Mom’s skirt and shirt and bra and panties was sprawled on the floor, along with a white lab-coat with a name tag.

He never got the chance to check the name tag.

“Mom?” I said. Her purse was still on the chair. I looked at the desk.

He remembered the desk. When he came in with his mother, it was full of paper. There was no other object but papers.

But the papers were scattered on the floor, and there was nothing else on the desk.

Save for the cat. The wind howled outside.

The cat was there, its white fur white as milk, its eyes yellow, glowing. It licked its lips. And smiled at me.

I ran out of the room. I searched for Bella.

I never heard of my Mom thereafter.

He put out his cigarette on the desk. He turned. There, sitting comfortably on the floor of the balcony, the cat purred. It was white as milk. Its eyes were glowing. He thought he saw no pupils. Cold sweat dripped from his forehead. The cat licked its lips.

The cat was smiling. He closed his eyes.