Douglas Steward
Charlotte Gundrum didn’t ask for the cat. In fact, Charlotte detested cats. They could be beautiful to behold, but there were the litter boxes that had to be cleaned and cat dander that provoked an asthma attack in her husband, Thomas. Charlotte preferred dogs, particularly big dogs that chased, caught, and ate cats.
This cat was too elusive to be caught. And it avoided detection from the other Gundrum family members. Her son Robert never mentioned seeing it. One moment the cat would surface unheralded and then, in an instant, disappear. But such is the way with creatures of the night—like cats.
The cat, whom Charlotte adamantly refused to name, first began showing up after Robert’s graduation party in June. Charlotte pestered him to consider attending college close to home, such as Michigan State.
Instead, when Robert received his acceptance letter from Brown University, he couldn’t contain his excitement. Charlotte kept a lid on her disappointment.
Mrs. Gundrum couldn’t quite put her finger on the exact color of this cat. She finally settled on rain-cloud grey, the kind of appellation you might see on a paint chip. Its body was full and stocky, though the cat didn’t strike her as being heavy. Charlotte felt as if its olivine eyes could look right through her.
Charlotte never left food out for it. There was no litter box in the house that she knew of. How it wandered in and out of her house was a wonder.
Her husband, Thomas, a scion of a newspaper fortune, used his connections to secure a career at a local private bank. He occasionally hit tennis balls with Robert at the Country Club of Detroit, applauding his son’s well-placed shots with a hearty “Good show, sport!” Other than that, it was tacitly understood that their son belonged to Charlotte, and her alone. She reveled in Robert’s accomplishments as if they were her own.
“Did you see Robert’s ACT scores? What a marvelous job we did on that!”
Charlotte had been careful to dissuade Robert from becoming too serious with the “inexperienced girls” in high school. She found a way to run off any girl who might show an interest in Robert. But that summer, there were signs he was slipping from her grasp.
Robert began disappearing for hours on end. He explained to his mother he was spending time with school friends, all of them laden with time to kill until September. Charlotte couldn’t help but be suspicious.
“I called all the parents of your classmates, and they said they hadn’t seen you.”
“Probably haven’t.”
“So, where were you?” Charlotte poured him a glass of milk and set it on the table in front of him.
“I was with Fiona.”
“Is that the girl who’s going to college in Oxford, Ohio?”
“That’s Candace. It’s no big deal, Mother. We went out for tacos.”
“You know you need to check in with me.”
“I’m eighteen,” Robert stammered. “Why should I have to check in with anyone?”
Charlotte was floored by his response. She had never experienced behavior like this from her son before.
“I’m done here,” Robert announced.
He stood up hastily from the kitchen table, knocking over his glass of milk.
“Robert!”
It was too late. Robert had bolted from the kitchen.
The cat came into view just then, its slate-grey body a cool contrast to her white kitchen cabinets. Charlotte watched it lap up the spilled milk.
Upon first encountering the cat, she worried it might show up in the middle of the night, intent on doing her harm. She imagined the cat scratching her face or sucking the breath right out of her mouth. Or worse, doing something horrible to Robert. There were nights when the cat clandestinely made its way into the bed and nestled beside her for a time. Charlotte lay silently without protest, as if this were her personal cross to bear. She envied Thomas, who could lie on his back with his mouth wide open, his breathing occasionally interrupted by apnea. Eventually, the cat rose and bounded from the bed to the floor, presumably to haunt some other tortured soul.
Robert continued to “hang out with Fiona.” That was his entire explanation of the day’s activities. Charlotte smelled a rat.
I should have insisted he apply for a summer job,she thought.
The cat appeared sporadically around the house. It paraded flippantly through the kitchen and lolled about on Charlotte’s Persian rug, leaving tufts of hair behind. She found it snoozing in her bathroom sink, acting as if it were the rightful owner of the porcelain bowl.
“You could find a more palatable place to take a nap. I need to use the sink right now.”
The cat blinked back at her. Charlotte, in surrender, retreated to the half bath on the main floor.
One afternoon, Robert returned home, accompanied by a lithe young woman.
“Mother,” Robert said. “This is Fiona.”
Charlotte immediately saw what the fuss was about. This was no high school prep girl. Fiona was older, well-formed, and sexy. She wore leopard yoga pants.
“That’s an interesting choice of fashion, dear.”
Fiona didn’t respond. Instead, she stretched, yawned, and contemplated Charlotte with big, vacant eyes.
Having made an introduction, Robert turned and headed back out the door. Fiona silently followed, and both had vanished before Charlotte could say another word.
This one should prove to be no challenge,Charlotte thought. Not much upstairs.
She carefully arranged a plate of toast for Robert the next morning, an offering meant to ensnare him into speaking to her.
“So tell me about this new girl you’re cavorting around with.”
“You mean Fiona?” He bit off one of the corners of his toast. “She teaches yoga.”
“When did you start taking yoga?”
“My friend’s mother takes a class there.” Robert smeared grape jelly over the remaining piece of bread.
“So he introduced you two?”
“Yeah, something like that.”
“And?”
Robert shrugged. “She kind of said ‘hey,’ then I said ‘hey’ back.”
“That’s how relationships begin these days?”
Robert laughed. “Mother, people usually meet on phone apps.”
What’s this world coming to?Charlotte thought.
Robert finished his toast and returned upstairs.
No doubt to take a nap until noon,she thought.
Charlotte sat down in her chair in the living room. She felt overwhelmed, off base.
“It’s just a phase,” she told herself. “It will pass.” She turned on the television to take her mind off things.
The cat materialized in front of Charlotte and clambered up onto her lap. She tried to ignore it. The cat settled in.
“Scat,” she whispered. “Go away.”
The cat refused to budge.
She considered calling out for Robert but decided to wait for it to leave on its own volition. The grey cat fell asleep. Charlotte worried what might happen if she disturbed it. She continued to watch television for over an hour, flipping channels between the morning news and a wildlife documentary onAnimal Planet. Finally, the cat woke with a stretch and a yawn. It gazed across the room for what seemed like five minutes, then leaped down. Charlotte dusted off her slacks, rose out of her chair, and searched for where she had last put her lint brush.
Charlotte sounded out Thomas on the subject of Robert at dinner that night.
“I don’t know if you are aware, but Robert has a new girlfriend.”
“Well, good for him, old sport.” Thomas surveyed the kitchen table. “Chicken again for dinner?”
“You don’t understand the significance here. This is no high school girl.”
“I was under the impression Robert had already graduated from high school.”
“Yes, but is he ready to date an adult woman? This one’s a yoga instructor.”
“Impressive. A real chip off the old block.”
“Don’t overestimate yourself.”
“I’m sure he’ll be alright. You didn’t make any rolls? You know I like butter and rolls with a meal.”
“He’s been skipping dinner with us every night. I barely see him anymore. He leaves for college in a few weeks.”
“Robert’s leaving for college? I’m going to need a new tennis partner.”
Charlotte spooned lemon sauce and capers onto his chicken breast.
“By the way, have you noticed a cat wandering around?” she said.
“I saw a racoon on the patio yesterday.”
“That’s not it. I thought I saw a grey cat inside the house the last few days.”
“No wonder my asthma’s been acting up. Where’d you stash my inhaler?”
Charlotte was startled by Fay Bunting while leaving Trader Joe’s. Her tote bag slipped from her grasp, causing groceries to tumble about in the parking garage.
“A little disoriented these days?”
“I’ve been having cat trouble lately,” Charlotte said, returning a jar of Cookie Butter to her bag.
“You own a cat now? You’re really settling into the empty-nester role.”
“Not really. It’s more complicated than that.”
“I adopted this black cat once who only showed up when the mood struck him.”
“Do tell.”
“He vanished for weeks. Nowhere to be seen. I finally came to terms that it was gone forever. Then one day it appeared out of nowhere, with a little tuft of insulation on its nose.”
“It was in the house the entire time?”
“I think so. He was a hungry little thing, but other than that, not bothered the slightest by the ordeal.” Fay tossed a bag of croissant rolls back into Charlotte’s tote bag.
“Fay, do you ever feel as if an animal is…judging you?”
“Like sizing me up?” She let out a soft chuckle. “No…but I do think they can be disdainful at times. Just like people are.”
Charlotte decided to straighten up around Robert’s bedroom. Her feline companion followed her to the door but ventured no farther.
“You can come in, you know,” Charlotte said. “You have no problem sauntering around the rest of my house.”
The cat sat in the hallway and licked its paw.
“I usually don’t come in here anymore,” Charlotte confided. “He gets quite upset about it.” She inspected the contents of his dresser drawers, only finding T-shirts and underwear.
“I bought this bedroom set for him when he was twelve. I love the oak finish on this.” She closed a drawer and ran her hand over the top of the nightstand. “I should rub some oil on this. It looks a little dry.”
The cat lingered by the door, captivated by the one-way conversation.
She flipped through the notebooks she found stacked on his desk.
“I suppose I’m deluding myself,” she said. “I’m an old fool. I don’t see anything here regarding that Fiona girl.”
The cat hissed at Charlotte. She did not remember it ever doing that before, not even that time she almost stepped on it in the dark. “Now what is your problem?”
The cat blinked at her.
“I have every right to be in here, snooping.” Charlotte’s own words sounded hollow to her. “I’m his mother, for Pete’s sake.”
The cat arched its back and, in apparent defeat, slinked away.
The Fourth of July arrives without warning in Michigan. Summers are notoriously brief but pleasant. Robert and Fiona stopped by the house on the way out for the evening.
“We’re looking for a blanket to take with us to the fireworks,” he said.
“Is that where you’re off to tonight?”
“What a beautiful quilt,” Fiona said. She pointed to living room, where an embroidered quilt hung over the back of the sofa. Charlotte was struck by the fact that this was the first time she had ever heard the woman utter a sound.
“Why yes, dear. It’s a vintage quilt from the turn of the century.” Charlotte sat down on an ottoman in her living room. “It’s been a family heirloom for generations.”
Fiona perched on the sofa, mesmerized by the quilt.
“It’s due for a good dry cleaning.”
“Don’t be silly, Robert. This quilt is over one hundred years old.”
“Can we take it with us?” Fiona said.
“Oh no. Go fetch a blanket from the linen closet, Robert.”
Fiona held the fabric against her cheek and pursed her lips. She closed her eyes and began kneading the quilt between her fingers. Charlotte thought she heard the young woman purr.
“Is this acceptable, Mother?” Robert said. He had returned with a ratty blanket. “It’s frayed on the edges already.”
Charlotte was too distracted by Fiona’s behavior to answer.
“Mother?”
“Oh, that’ll be fine,” Charlotte said, snapping back to reality. Robert sat down next to Fiona. He massaged her shoulders, while she continued to rake the quilt with her fingernails. This continued for a minute, until Fiona announced, “Okay, that’s enough,” and shifted a few feet away from Robert on the sofa. Her hand still had hold of the quilt.
She’s going to hurt him,Charlotte thought. She’s going to rip out his heart and feast on it.
After they left, Charlotte remained glued to her ottoman, lost in thought.
Fiona presented a perilous challenge, one that Charlotte wasn’t fully prepared for. She couldn’t seem to find a weak spot, a vulnerability that she could take advantage of.
“Whenever I bring her up, he refuses to listen,” she explained to the cat. “It’s like pulling teeth to get anything out of him.” The cat sat on Charlotte’s living room floor, inspecting her with its piercing green eyes.
“He’s gone for hours with that little minx from the yoga studio. What could they possibly be doing?” She knew all too well the answer to that question.
At least there was the cat to keep her company.
The cat became entranced by a quilted coaster it had found. It crouched, held its pose for a moment, then pounced and trapped the coaster under its paws. Then it walked away nonchalantly, only to return a moment later. Charlotte found herself amused by this cat-and-mouse display.
For the first time, she reached down to stroke the cat. It arched its back and purred. Charlotte rubbed its chin. The cat turned and abruptly bit her on the hand—not breaking the skin, but startling Charlotte. Charlotte let out a yelp and retracted her hand, inspecting it for damage. The cat meandered away.
“Fickle little thing,” she said.
When Robert returned home, it was just long enough to change clothes and go back out again. She blocked his path on the way back down the stairs.
“Can you stay and eat dinner with us just once this summer?” Charlotte said.
“I’m going out with Fiona and her friends.”
“Oh. With a bevy of yoga instructors?”
“If you say so.”
“Don’t let them buy you a drink. It’s illegal for someone your age.”
“I know the law.”
They faced each other, silent for a moment.
“Why can’t you sit down and have a conversation with me?” she said.
“We’re having a conversation now.”
“How am I supposed to keep up with everything going on in your life, Robert? I’m sure you share things with that little girl you’ve been carrying on with.”
“I’m leaving now.”
“So be it. But first kiss your mother goodbye. Allow me that, at least.”
“If it will get you off my case, okay.” Robert stooped down to give his mother a peck on the cheek. But before he could, she impulsively held his face in her palm and kissed him firmly on the lips. Robert stumbled backward against the staircase.
“Have a good time, sweetie.”
Robert took a hard look at his mother, and then dashed out the front door.
Charlotte turned to see the cat sitting on the landing above the stairs, watching her. Its tail swished back and forth.
“Don’t you start judging me,” Charlotte said.
After that episode, she did not see Robert again for several days. The cat accompanied Charlotte throughout the house. She tried scolding the cat, anything to scare it off.
“Begone! Go out and stalk birds in the neighbor’s yard. Go find someone else to antagonize.”
The cat mewed, rolled over, and stretched out on the floral pattern of Charlotte’s Persian rug in the front foyer.
“If you think you’re getting any attention from me, you’re sadly mistaken.”
The cat sat upright and pondered Charlotte.
“You can just keep on sitting there. It doesn’t matter to me.”
The cat scampered up the side of her grandfather clock. It began to emit a horrible scream from on top of the clockface, a caterwaul that pierced Charlotte’s eardrums.
“What have I done to deserve this? I am a good mother!”
The cat stopped shrieking and leaped down. It curled up beside the mahogany front door, still ogling its quarry. Charlotte sat down on the bench of her hall tree and sobbed.
“Have you seen Robert lately?” she asked her husband at the dinner table.
“I played tennis with him the other day.”
“You didn’t tell me this.”
“Was I supposed to?”
“Does he seem different to you?”
“He looks to be losing a little weight, if that’s what you’re alluding to.”
“That’s not it. Did you two talk about anything?”
“He thinks I need to work on my backhand. The nerve. You know I’ve probably spent ten thousand dollars on lessons to perfect that backhand.”
“Thomas, Robert hasn’t slept here for a week.”
“I’m sure he will show up, dear. His type always returns to sleep in their own den, eventually.” Thomas excused himself from the table and retired to the living room to watch a rerun of Law and Order.
The cat emerged on the kitchen counter. It peered at her from its perch beside the coffee grinder.
“I suppose you’re pleased with this development?”
The cat took some time to preen itself, licking the back of its forepaw.
“I’m not some sort of lonely cat lady. Do you understand me?”
The cat stared back, its olivine eyes unblinking.
“Just get out. Get out!” She threw a mixing spoon at the cat. It shrieked, leaped out of the way of the incoming projectile, and landed safely on the kitchen floor.
“What was that?” Thomas said from the other room.
“So you heard it? You heard it hiss.”
“I heard you yelling. Is everything alright?”
“I’m fine,” she said. “Just fine.” The cat had gathered itself, sitting upright and licking its paw again, unconcerned. It gave Charlotte a backward glance, and then ambled off, taking its time as if nothing had happened.
Robert returned the next day, just as Thomas had predicted. Charlotte found him lounging on his bed. He made no attempt to hide a dour expression.
Charlotte stood in his line of vision, to get his attention.
“What is it, Mother?”
“Just noticing you’re back home.”
“Fiona and I broke up. Try not to be too excited about it.”
“I’m so sorry, Robert.” She settled down on his bed. “Want to talk about it?”
“Not really.”
“I wanted to talk about our trip east. We could visit Niagara Falls on the way. Maybe even stop by the Finger Lakes.”
“I just want to get packed and go.”
“So we can drive straight there, no problem.”
“A friend of mine will be driving me to Rhode Island. No need to bother you.”
“But it wouldn’t be a bother.”
Robert rolled over. And refused to acknowledge her anymore.
The day came when he loaded a duffel bag and two suitcases into a blue Dodge Caravan parked in Charlotte’s driveway. Don Singleton, the owner of the minivan, stood solemnly next to her while they watched their two sons arrange their things in the back seat.
“Make sure you have a good time out there, sport,” Thomas said, patting Robert on the back.
“Take pictures of their dorm room for me, Don,” Charlotte said, trying to hold back tears. “I want to see every corner.”
“I’m only allowed to drop them off in Providence, and then head straight back home.”
“Why do we let them treat us this way?”
“I don’t know,” Don said. “Perhaps because they know we love them too much.”
Charlotte hoped for a kiss on the cheek, or perhaps a hug from Robert before he left.
Anything.
She was rewarded with a smile and a wave. The little group clambered into the Singleton van, and in a moment, they were gone.
Thomas left his tennis racket propped up against the door jamb and headed back to work. Charlotte returned inside, alone. The house struck her as cavernous and vacant.
It’s like living in a mausoleum,she thought.
“That cat has to be around here somewhere,” she said out loud. But try as she might, she couldn’t find it. Not in the kitchen, nor in her bedroom. Even a cursory examination of the basement turned up nothing.
She put out a saucer of milk and waited in her kitchen for an hour. She could hear the grandfather clock in her front foyer ticking. The light through the window faded with the passing of time.