She spotted the car coming from a far. By now, she could easily recognize their car from a fair distance, and the little cat lurked under a nearby bush while they got off the car. She looked on as the mother made her way towards the front door, carrying grocery bags, and she could smell some of the goodies inside. On her mother’s tail, was little Sarah. A wide-eyed 4 year-old with locks of curly brown hair, dragging around a doll of almost the same size as herself. The little cat jumped from under the bush and followed Sarah’s steps closely, just keeping a safe distance to stay out of the mother’s sight.
As they reached the door, the mother held it in place for Sarah to enter, and when she saw the little cat trying to squeeze herself through she and Sarah shouted in one voice: Kitten! The only difference was that Sarah’s voice resonated with joy, while the mother’s rang with anger. It wasn’t the first time the little cat tried to make it into the house, and more than once did she smear the floor with her muddy footprints. Sarah begged her mother to let the kitten in but the mother wouldn’t budge. She went inside to put the groceries away and told Sarah to stop crying because there was no way that cat was coming in.
Soon it was dark and the first signs of a storm were starting to unfold outside. It started to rain, and Sarah couldn’t sleep, unable to stop thinking about the poor little kitten. Then, she heard a sound coming from outside. It was the little cat. She ran to the front door, and the sound grew louder and clearer. She tried to open the door but she couldn’t reach the lock. Finally, she sat on the floor with her back pressed against the giant door, listening to the little cat meowing from the other side.
“Don’t worry little kitten. I’m here.”
Then she listened a moment for a meow and a purr, and as her eyes gave up on her and she drifted away in a world in dreams, she smiled and replied to what she was sure she heard
“I love you too…”
A thousands thoughts rushed through his mind as he entered the hospital. What should he say? How will he react? What should he say to her? Should he lie and say she looks amazing? Maybe he shouldn’t, after all she’s always known when he was lying. Yes, a thousand thoughts rushed through his mind, but they all went to pieces as he entered the room and saw her sitting up in her bed, as pale as a December afternoon.
“You look miserable.” He said.
“Thanks. You’re as sweet as ever” She replied with sarcastic rolling eyes.
“Well, you better get used to that because when you get better, which I’m hoping won’t take very long, I’m marrying you.”
“Are you saying that because I’m dying? Because I will hold you up to that, so you better not bite more than you can chew.”
“I’m assuming that the sickness has crushed your spirits so, you know, you’ll need a shoulder to cry on and I’m willing to make that sacrifice. It will make me look good, scores points with the ladies, you know”
“Is that so?” She smiled mischievously “Hasn’t it occurred to you that maybe I will not want to marry you?”
“Well, it did. Actually you can do better. A whole lot better. But honestly I thought you’d be vulnerable enough to dismiss that fact.”
“Well, I’m not dismissing anything, just so you know.”
“But, why wouldn’t you marry me? I’m a nice guy. We’ve known each other for years and our families have known each other for years, I make great coffee, what else do you want?”
“I don’t know. I’m still on the fence.”
“You know what? Maybe you need a push. Why wait till you get better? Let’s get married today!”
“I have cancer, silly! I’m not in the mood to get married”
“I hate cancer! And I hate you!”
“I hate you too…”
She was slicing an orange as he entered the kitchen to get a glass of water.
“Oh, here you are! Why are you so late? By the way I thought the whole thing over and I’m still convinced I didn’t do anything wrong”
He didn’t reply.
“Oh, okay, silent treatment! Yeah because that really works! I mean, what’s a better way to solve problems than not to speak about them. What the heck, go big, don’t talk at all. Yeah, great idea!”
He still didn’t say a word. He just went to the living room, sat on the sofa and switched his laptop on. She did the exact same thing.
“You know what? This works for me. I could talk all night without you interrupting me. And I know you can hear me. You love to hear me speak! Admit it!”
Still not so much as a nod.
“Wait! What about writing? If I posted something on your wall on Facebook wouldn’t you reply? That’s interesting, I can try that. Or, no! If I write and you don’t reply that might look bad and embarrassing and then my mom could catch wind of it and she’ll want to know what’s wrong.”
Still no reply. She didn’t say anything for a few moments; he thought she’d given until she started again.
“You know what? This is ridiculous. This hurts you know! I’m a person with feelings. You don’t want to talk, FINE! Don’t talk… but I’m going to sleep and for your information, if I die in my sleep you’ll never forgive yourself for letting me go to bed mad and angry and bitter and… hurt! Good night, or not!”
She turned her back on him and marched off to bed like a clumsy soldier. He still didn’t say anything, he just smiled to himself when he was sure she couldn’t see him, and he wondered how after all these years, she still didn’t pick up on the fact that he loves, just loves, seeing her angry.