CAT HAD A TAIL
by
Steven D. Bennett
Smashwords Edition
Copyright © 2010 by Steven D. Bennett
Published by DeadLife Books
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Also check out "Trace the Dead Eye"
and "Humor of the Gospels" on Amazon.com
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Cat had a tail.
You could see it plain as day, even from where I was sitting. Even if you weren't paying attention, like I wasn't. But I wasn't paying attention less than anyone around me, there at the table of Café 575. Me, Beth, her two friends, Claire and Spence. Open mike night, and they were transported via the haiku brought forth from Maxwell, the skinny guy on the small stage with greasy hair and stubble-goatee.
Me, less so. Normally the high point of the week, Saturday night, sitting with Beth just about anywhere, reveling in the roasted smell and taste, listening to the rhymes and meters and lyrics. Maybe not appreciating it as much as her, maybe mostly not at all, but at least being there, with her. Listening.
Tonight my thoughts wandered. Blame it on the argument we'd had earlier, Beth and I, about our relationship. No, not just our relationship, why stop there? About every relationship under the sun; about what love and romance really was and how I didn't have the Poet's Heart. How I'd been distant the past weeks, the past month, how she'd noticed a drifting. I hadn't noticed. Of course not, she said, because that type of deep soul touch was foreign to my non-poetic, sump-pump of a heart.
Soul touch.
That's what she said, my sweet Beth, and she turned on her heel leaving me shaking my confused brain and wondering, just wondering, if Lord Byron ever had his inspiration turn and bite him in the ass.
So I sat with her and her friends: Claire, pale, whiny-voiced, always seeming as if sitting in a pose, and Spence, a modern beatnik with wire glasses, at one in the company of the other "cool cats" as he called his compatriots, awaiting his own turn at the mike. I sat with her, with them, and distanced myself mentally from the table.
I watched the crowd; the smiles, the laughter, the friendship, the cynics. Funny, the diversity, but you can tell a lot from the outside surface. I felt as if I knew exactly what was going on at every table. Not every detail, of course, but my senses seemed heightened--on a different, instinctive level--and the thoughts of each person seemed to jump out at me. Maybe it was the Jamaican I sipped or the influence of the haiku, but there just the same.
That's when I noticed him, this one Cat, be-bopping his head to the measured meter. Then, a table back, a man peering with hard eyes directly and unmistakably at the Cat's back...the Tail. The Cat didn't know he had a Tail, that was plain, but that's how it is with cats. They go here, prowl there, taking it with them all the while, not knowing. Then all of a sudden it senses something stalking and turns to pounce, trying to catch it like it's a prey. The Tail in turn begins chasing the Cat, around and around until you don't know who's chasing who.
That's what interested me. Who was the prey? And which one would turn first...and attack.
The Cat wore an orangish shirt under a rust leather jacket, light blue jeans and bowling shoes. No bag. Mid-twenties. Long side burns. Calico.
The Tail was dressed in a grey shirt under black zip-up jacket, tweed pants, dark shoes, white socks. Same age. Tabby.
Calico Cat with a Tabby Tail.
The Cat ordered another drink.
Tail ordered another drink.
Cat scratched his leg.
Tail groomed his hair.
Cat got up to use the restroom.
Tail got fidgety. Got up, sat, got up again, walked over to the Cat's table, saw nothing, went back, sat down, checked his watch. Waited.
Cat came back.
Tail held the plastic drink menu up to his face, studying.
Cat sat down.
Tail placed the menu flatly onto the table and drummed his fingers on it.
Max was finished. The words stopped, the no-rhymes stopped, scattered clapping followed him to the table where Beth and Spence busied themselves critiquing Max's effort while Claire powdered her pale reflection in her compact.
The Cat got up. Caught the Tail by surprise as he headed for the mike and stepped up on stage.
I sat straight. Cat's going to speak, I thought, give a little bit of the Meow. But as his hand reached to grab the mike it seemed to float through it as he deftly grabbed the curtain instead and disappeared behind it.
I shot a glace at the Tail. He looked worried, got up fast, didn't know what to do. Thought of following, thought better, turned and pushed his way to the front door.
Spence began to make his way to the mike with his own offing as Claire and Beth smiled after him--too much smile, Beth--oblivious, somehow, not only to me but of the pursuit in progress.
I rose silently and drifted after the Tail.
It was a refreshing slap, the cool night air. A bit of dampness as well, making steps a little slower, heavier. I saw a figure turn a corner. The Tail. I knew the Cat would head for its natural habitat, the alley. So did the Tail. I hurried after both and made my way around the building to see the Tail, hands on hips, looking lost, suddenly jerk and trot off into the darkness.
I trotted after, doggedly. The Cat had a Tail. Now I was dogging the Tail, doing what dogs do, sticking their nose where it's not wanted. I just hoped there wasn't a rolled up newspaper with my name on it waiting in the near dark.
I was soon engulfed by the black and white world of shadows of varying light and thickness. The patches played games with my vision, and it wasn’t long before I lost sight of them a dozen times. One minute they'd both be in plain sight, then just the Tail, then neither. The fog settling, perhaps, or fatigue.
They headed for a hazy light in the distance, the Cat illuminated as he entered, disappearing as he kept on. The Tail the same, except when he got to the light he stopped, breathing heavy. The light spelled in blue neon: Ernie's Liquor. The Tail started after the Cat, then stopped abruptly and stepped into the store.
Why the chase, I wondered, slowing to a quick-step, if only to end here? Maybe I'd been wrong, maybe there was no Cat, no Tail, no chase, just my escapist imagination. I shook my head free from such faithlessness. No, I decided, ever since the cafe they'd been up to something. Then why, coming so far, had the Tail broken off?
I glanced into Ernie's as I walked by. Across the street, what the Tail had seen to bring his chase to a stop, was an apartment building. Two-story, two-dozen units, hazy lights illuminating most, an archway in front leading to the courtyard beyond. Everything was grey from fog so colors were nonexistent. Except at Ernie's. I went inside.
A small market, selling liquor and magazines and some dvd’s the same type as the magazines...and food and soap and toilet paper and just about anything you'd need if you could ignore shelf-life or half-life.
The Tail was on the far side, past the counter, by the magazines.
Ernie, I supposed, smiled at me from behind the counter. He was Asian and had lots of teeth. I smiled back and pretended to browse the aisles with hands in plain sight. Ancient Chinese proverb: Behind many teeth lies man with loaded .38.
I made my way to the Tail and stood beside. I flipped a few pages of a magazine, put it back, grabbed another and sneaked a glace at him. His face was red and damp and he was breathing harder than he should have in spite of the pace of the chase. Then I noticed his hands shaking and realized his breaths were not from accelerated heart rate but restrained rage.
"Cold night," I said.
He said nothing.
"Warm cup of coffee would be good about now."
"Machine is off," Ernie said. He smiled from twenty feet and motioned to the empty Bunn on the counter.
The Tail made no reply. He stared at the magazine in his hands, Hot Tips, not a racing publication in the traditional sense, with a gorgeous blonde on the cover with lips as full as her string bikini. The Tail's face got redder.
"Cup of coffee, a little haiku..."
The Tail stuffed the magazine into the rack and stalked out of the store.
I waited a beat and followed.
He was already across the street, but instead of entering the courtyard of the apartments he veered right and walked deliberately between the apartment building and the house next door where a chest-high hedge acted as divider. A moment later he re-emerged and walked around to the front and into the courtyard.
I jogged to the sidewalk and walked to the hedge. It ran full length between the two buildings. I peered into the darkness, wondering what he'd found of interest, and took a few, tentative steps forward.
A light went on to my left. Sliding glass doors revealed the bedroom of an apartment. Inside, not ten feet away from my dreams, walked a striking blond wearing a white t-shirt tied in a knot and showing a nice firm stomach and skin tight black stretch pants which graciously left her belly button and six inches south uncovered. Walking behind her, the Tail.
I would say she was striking instead of beautiful because any woman with mouth open at high volume cannot be considered such. She was pacing the room and he was following like some type of vaudeville act. He would grunt a few things and she would screech back at him over her shoulder. They stopped by the glass door, profiles to me now. The girl's face was clownish; a big mouth circled in red lipstick yet her pencil-thin eyebrows pointed down as if tragically sad. The guy's face was firm, teeth grinding under set mouth, the way a man looks when he's steaming, just steaming, looking for a way to vent. He was almost twice her size but she kept at him and at him and at him. Women will do that, dancing on the volcano's edge.
Then it happened.
He pushed her and she was thrown back against a dresser, stunned, but he was just beginning. He got in her face, not more than two inches away, and screamed it all out as she slid, little by little, downward until the onslaught left her sitting on the floor sobbing in gasps.
He bent down, twisting his head to keep his face in hers, then straightened and paced the floor. He came back and did it again only to stalk off. One more time, angrier, pacing fueling his actions. He grabbed her around the neck and shook her as she tried to pry him loose. He threw her down, kicked her, and left the room as she lay on her side coughing and crying when the breaths came.
It was like a movie and I was transfixed by the window/screen theater. Here in front of me a man was choking a woman, but it was more curious than frightening, more comical than alarming. I was shocked at my inaction, but there it was. I thought of calling the police but couldn't imagine what I'd say. "I was peeping through the window, officer, and to my surprise..."
It didn't take Matisse to get the picture. Between the muffled curses I surmised she’d been fooling with Tom Cat and the Tail got wise. Had been wise, was my guess, for some time. Girl and Tail lived together in said apartment was plain by photos on the dresser, clothes on the bed, mannerisms. They weren't married but committed enough to nearly kill for cheating. If that's not love...
She got up after a few minutes and left and he came back right after and sat on the bed and she came back with tissues and wiped her eyes. She said something or other as he sat with head in hands, only to rub them through his hair, look up to shake them at her emptily as he replied, look down again as she spoke.
Then she walked over and knelt in front of him. He tried to avoid her but eventually her words had effect and he looked up. She talked and talked and smiled and kissed his forehead, touched his hair, stroked his shoulders, his chest, his thighs. Unzipped his pants.
I felt suddenly ill, suddenly cold, suddenly empty and achy. I walked out of the hedge to the sidewalk and wished Beth were here, wished I was there, with her, wished I'd never left.
But I had to be a dog and that rolled up paper finally hit its mark.
I walked back to Ernie's and leaned against the wall as I turned on my cel. I figured Beth might have noticed me gone and tried to call, but it came on and said nothing. Calling her would have brought nothing but voice mail and I’d had enough empty words for one night. I flipped it shut and went into the store to get a drink. Beth and I had been going together for two years and in spite of our differences it was probably a matter of time before marriage occurred. But we had hit the Great Wall and it was a time of expending a lot of energy trying to get around or through or over it. It would happen. Hadn't yet.
I got my drink, more caffeine, walked outside, took a swallow, and saw him. The Cat was walking down the sidewalk toward the apartment. I backed off a few steps instinctively, waiting for him to pass, but with a quick glance he, too, disappeared into the hedge.
Popular place. He was going to get an eyeful. Serve him right, I thought, wondering how he'd react to the scene he'd wandered upon. I didn't have long to wonder. He appeared a minute later and walked quickly away. Angry, I thought, but something in his manner made me reconsider. Not angry...anxious, nervous, a slight jog in his step like the faster he got away from there the better. Instead of hypothesizing I dropped my drink into the trash and trotted back to the hedge. The bedroom light was still on but the curtain was now closed. But in closing it had caught on the corner of the dresser, the one the girl had leaned against, so part of the room was unobscured.
The blood showed perfectly on the cream carpet.
I should have found a pay phone and called the police and left no name and gotten the hell out of there. But I didn't. The movie was still playing and I was shaking too hard to turn back now.
I slid through the hedge, felt a tearing, pulled myself out and slid open the glass door. Unlocked, of course, so cats could come and go. I pushed the curtain aside. She was dead and nearly naked. I knelt beside her, shaking my head in disbelief, the rest of me shaking in belief. It was horribly fascinating. She looked no different now than ten minutes before except for a wound in her neck gushing blood, yet she was no longer there. I didn't realize I was holding her left hand in both of mine until a large figure came through the bedroom door to find me. He was carrying a laundry basket with a clean white teddy hanging half-off the side.
"I'm back," he said with a big smile, then he saw the girl and the smile faded and the basket dropped in slow motion and he fell to his knees with it. I stood, backing toward the door as his face contorted with horror.
"Jill, Jill." He touched her face gingerly as if death were catching. His look of anguish pointed up to me. "What have you done?"
I turned and leapt through the door, catching the curtain and taking part with me, ripping through the hedge and running at full speed as I hit the sidewalk. His yells followed me past Ernie's Liquor where, in the half-second of neon light, I noticed blood on my hands and wondered inanely where that had come from. And only after I'd passed into the comfort of the dark did I hear footsteps running behind at an increasingly loud pace.
I ran the direction I thought I'd come but now nothing seemed familiar. Lights pierced me all over, betraying flight, and my heavy breaths gave direction. A voice too close startled me and I tripped and skidded across asphalt, adding blood to blood, scrambled to my feet, grabbed a trash can near a dark doorway and sent it behind me with a grunt and a prayer. A moment later the same voice cursed with a crash and I thanked God and flew around the corner.
A police car sat parked in front of me, hugging the curb.
I kept running, noticing two patrolmen inside casually talking to each other. I looked behind my shoulder a dozen strides later to see the Tail round the corner and run to the squad car. In what seemed like seconds a siren wailed and I finally knew I was in trouble.
The cafe was in view and a crowd was milling in front. All heads turned as the siren chased after me. I ran like a madman down the sidewalk, skidding at the door, almost falling, catching myself and entering with a lurch.
And there, sitting alone, sipping a Cappuccino with two hands clean of blood and staring straight ahead, sat the Cat.
Beth and company were right where I'd left them. I ran over to the table, grabbing the edge for support as I caught my breath and sweat dripped off and Beth glared up and the cops came through the door with the Tail in tow. He extended his arm and pointed to where the whole room was looking, right between my eyes.
"Where have you been?" Beth asked.
I looked at her, the cops, the Cat, the Tail. Spence.
I forced a slight smile and tossed my hair. "Getting inspired." I kissed the top of her head and walked up on stage.
The room deadened. Even the cops were shocked.
I cleared my throat into the mike. "An haiku." I paused, then indicated clearly the man sitting at the front table.
"Into the night of darkness
creeping through the shadowed alley
the Cat walks."
Then, gesturing to the man with the police:
"Ever present
drawing closer with every step
the Tail stalks."
With everyone's attention now, I continued.
"One chasing the other, yet connected
staying close, yet undetected
the game begins
both seeking the same objective
both being, in love, selective
but a heart cannot be shared
like two cats in the grass
with bird between
fowl indecision gives way for escape
the bird, untouchable, flies to safety
seeking refuge behind the sliding glass doors
but death is not content to simply watch
without a touch of satisfaction
an intruder enters
speaking love
yet removing life
leaving love to pick up pieces
of the broken heart left behind
so the mystery remains,
of which gave love,
which gave death
elusive truth
forever hidden from men's eyes
but the Poet, seeing all,
points to the one who loved the least
the one who loved the best
points to the Cat who loved the least
and puts the Tail to rest."
I saw movement from below but was too enraptured in my performance to notice more than the bulk of a man's body hitting me in the chest and the same man's hands around my neck and hot words cursing Shakespeare as I fell backwards and lost my breath when I collided pronely with the stage.
Critics.
There were screams and gasps and even some applause as arms and hands and cops were everywhere untangling the crowd and dragging me up and forward to stand face to face with the Cat and the Tail and the owner of Cafe 575.
An hour later it was as sorted as it was going to get at that time at that place. The three of us would be taking a trip downtown, most likely sharing adjoining cells that night. The story I told the police was not wholly verified but seemed the best starting place for the authorities. It would all be sifted through in the next few days and I would be vindicated. I hoped.
Under watchful eye I was given a ten-foot parole and a five-minute bail to talk to Beth and try to explain what had happened. I thought she'd be mad as usual, but when I got close enough she threw her arms around me.
"What was that for?"
"Mmmm," she purred. "For being so...poetic."
"Didn't think I had it in me, did you?"
She shook her head and my smile left. "But I'm glad you did. It saved a lot of explaining."
"What do you mean?"
"You know...what you said about love and..."
"Yeah."
"...didn't think you knew, but I guess I should have."
"Knew what?"
She blinked. "Spence and I. It's been over for weeks--it really wasn't anything to get over--but still I wonder how..."
"Spence?"
Claire stared open-mouthed as Spence winced.
"...you have such a poet's insight," Beth was saying.
I stared at Beth, at Spence, at Claire, at the cops...at the stage. I smiled.
"Uh, technically," Spence began, "that wasn't an haiku, at least not in the traditional sense..."
I leaned over the table and hit him in the face as hard as I could.
Soul touch.
He flew over backwards as Beth gasped and Claire smirked and I laughed.
Pandemonium.
I had broken parole.
But I was inspired again.