“Limpy” could not help but notice the sign, and could not help but find out who was disturbed, and why.
So, she knocked the door, after she had already opened it, and tried to tiptoe in, but couldn’t, therefore, she did not bother, and limped loudly in.
“Oh my dear goodness “Xerxus”; so, dark and so stinky in here”( Smiling at the fact that those exact two descriptions of a place were frequently associated with red pleasure, but that was irrelevant then)
“Sorry, let me close the door” She stayed inside of course.
“Don’t you dare tell me you are still sobbing over “Divina?”
“Who? Div., oh, no, not her, although I could”
“You forgot her already? Ooh, men, men; can’t live with them, can’t live without them. I by the way am forgetting some stuff nowadays. What is it Alzheimer? Or is it globalisation? I do not seem to remember. So, what is it this time? Tell me, go on.”
“Is the sign at the door still hanging on, auntie dear?”
“It is. It was tilted a little; I straightened it up for you. It is so quiet and like a grave yard in here. I guess it qualifies to being deadly quiet” (Again, she internally smiled at her congenital intelligence)
“It could be, just could be, related to the remote possibility that I wanted to be left alone.”
“Left alone! Why?”
“No forget it; that is a very unlikely possibility, auntie.”
“Then why? Let me open the shutters.”
“Limpy” tried opening the shutters but couldn’t reach. There was a can nearby, so she kicked it in closer and stood on it; she felt her feet getting wet, but was ultimately successful in her mission.
“Here you go, although I prefer shady areas, but I want to see you. You look alright”
“I feel shitty”
“In my dictionary, that is synonymous with lonely, left out, lost values, with no direction, and introverted.
My dear, we always need some interesting external stimulus to make us look outside our body; if there is no such stimulus, we end up introverting, looking inside and there is only one thing there, shit. Therefore, it is normal, we feel shitty.”
With wide open eyes, “Xerxus” commented: “You do not seize to surprise me, you see sharply through crap, and cut it short and direct”
“Thank you love, I don’t seize surprising myself either.”
“Ask me a question, any question, which you do not have an answer to. Go on.”
“Its alright, I have couple of hours. I’ll do my nails while you talk, on this red cushion you lie on, if you don’t mind?”
She then directly started sharpening away without a pause, constant quick strokes, up and down and sideways. “Go on dear, I hear you.”
“Go ahead auntie, dear, no, I don’t mind.”
“Talk, I said I have a couple of hours, not the whole day. Oops, sorry, go ahead love, take your time, TALK.”
“I have this sense that I cannot separate from, that I am always running, escaping.”
“Limpy” giggling: “That is normal my dear; we are cats. That is only “Felane”, as in “Humane”, No?
“No, it’s different.”
“I am listening my dear” licking away at her fur, focusing at her belly now, the lower parts as a matter of fact, not noticing the newly acquired male urine stink on her hind claws, the ones which had stepped on a can minutes earlier trying to gain height. For her, the aroma of any new phallic secretion on her body was always welcomed, actually expected.
“Sometime back, my mother came over and took me out; actually it was my first time out, really out, of this building.
She took me on a trip, shopping. Just before we go into a huge store located below the street-level, we got separated.
I went in the opposite direction, found myself on an escalator moving back up towards the street. I couldn’t go down and couldn’t find the other escalator which should have been going in a downward direction. So, I was alone. In an area completely strange to me. I kept asking until I found my way back home.
Thinking back; I could have hopped down the up-going escalator, or, I could have looked harder for the down going one. But I didn’t. I thought then that it was just lack of experience and being overwhelmed, I had no choice. Now I think otherwise; I think I chose.
The next day, she picked me up again, and apologised for not coming after me, to the street level, that is. She said that, after she had finished shopping, she came over to the building to check on me, but found that I had already slept. She had come in late.
She took me the next day on a city tour; in a coach bus. She was quiet the whole time, and was looking through the window with a content smile.
The bus was full of old single female cats. Only one couple was there, everyone else besides that couple, my mother and I, were strangers to each other. They pretended that they were happy and “together”, but they were not.
That couple was a male cat with his little niece. The little niece was giggling and not caring about everyone else’s “togetherness”. Her uncle was carrying her violin.
We stopped at the opera house, had a twelve minute tour there, and came back to the bus.
The couple did not return; they stayed by the opera house entrance, and played the violin. She was still giggling, he had a content smile. The rest of us left “together”
When the visit to the last stop in the tour ended, everyone went back to the bus. To their numbered seats. I didn’t.
I ran. I ran further and further, hopping from one street to the other, avoiding the place where the bus would be; that space was called Piazza. I saw nice places. Small alleys, people in clean clothes, showing their skin and hair. All seemed happy and joyful. All enjoyed showing off the way they looked and even the way they spoke, as if their words carried shapes and smell. Their speech seemed perfumed and glorious. They actually twinkled.
Just before I taste that perfume, just before I start to forget this building, I found myself again right in front of the bus. All inside were yelling at me, and demanding I get in. I did. They said they had to wait for a long time. I had kept them waiting “together” for a long time.
They waited because my mother was very worried. They waited for my mother to stop worrying, which they thought that will only happen if I would return. They did not wait for me, rather, they waited for the worrying to stop.
I returned. The bus moved. My mother sat next to me without a word, everything she had to say, I guess, was said by the group instead. Her smiling with content had disappeared. She looked tired. She did not look worried.
I thought then that I had returned to the Piazza by mistake since I did not know my way around that area. I thought that I had ran far, far away, and was surprised when I found the bus next to me. It turned out to be that I was running in and around the same small district, up and down. I was really never farther than a minute walk from the Piazza. I then thought that returning to the bus was by pure chance.
Thinking back, I think it was otherwise; again, it was by choice.
The bus quietly dropped me off at the building and left.
I have been always a quiet cat, have been always a runaway one; a champion of unsuccessful runaways.
I meet many, and all note that I am running. Since the first we meet, they notice that I am running from something or running towards something. They ask me what is it I am running from or to.
Thinking back, I think the issue really is not what is it I am running from or to, it is which: Am I running from or am I running to?”
Finishing her tongue bath and getting ready to leave, “Limpy” said, with a rare sour look on her face” I don’t think it matters dear. What matters is whether you enjoy running or not. I don’t.”
She gave a kiss goodbye to “Xerxus” and left. The door behind her left open.