Cat House

12 | Charlene

It had been one month. An entire month since Derrick broke up with me. Life seemed so dull, everything seemed pained and lifeless. My heart was truly broken. It was a pain I've never felt before and I didn't know if I could get past it. I couldn't eat, sleep, drink, live. An ache sat heavily in my chest, nausea stayed in the back of my throat. One whole month had passed and the heartache was so prominent, as if the breakup was an hour ago.

I had lost weight, about 15 pounds. I couldn't keep food down, and recently it's been getting worse. I would wake up and get sick almost immediately, just adding to my weight loss. My clothes were getting baggy; my jeans wouldn't stay up, my cat shirts hung like curtains on my torso, even my bras and socks were becoming lifelessly big.

I suppose it's my fault for not trying to move on as much as I should. But it was hard. I felt so deeply in love as if this was the one person for me. I trusted him and gave my all to him and confided in him, and he threw it away. I can't make him love me again, I can't make anyone love anything, but why? Why did he have to fall out of love when I was so deeply in love with him? In the back of my mind, I knew it was my fault, but I didn't understand why he left. Why couldn't he stay and help me grow rather than leave me for my faults?

Life was unfair.

We didn't talk much at school anymore. We didn't talk in general. We'd walk past each other in the hallway as if we were strangers, despite the memories that were stapled in my mind. We were ghosts to each other. I didn't know what hurt worse: the fact that he was gone, or the fact that we act like each other never existed.

I spent a lot of time with my cats. They comforted me, they loved me as much as I loved them, and they listened. All 37 of them. Currently, I was in their room. They were sitting there, watching me cry and talk about how life was just getting worse. There was one thing I was keeping from them that I found out that morning, and it was killing me to keep from them. But saying it out loud would only make it truer, and reality was hard to grasp right now.

"I just don't know what to do guys," I sobbed, petting Sugarpea, one of my long-haired cats. She was definitely one of the funniest, always making strange poses. "He won't even talk to me. How am I supposed to tell him?" My heart ached in a new way, a way I never felt before. It hurt, but it didn't. It was an unpleasant and exhausting ache that made me sick to my stomach even more than I already was.

The door opened and I turned around to see my mom's worried face. "Cher, talking to them isn't going to help. They can't give you responses." I sniffled. She was correct about them not being able to respond, but talking to them made me feel loved and happy. They could listen to me and I could pour out all of my emotions and feelings and get everything off of my chest. Sometimes, answers aren't needed. "Come on, why don't we go out and do something? You and the baby both would like some ice-cream."

I looked at her with wide eyes. "Mom, I wasn't going to tell the cats yet!" I didn't want my cats knowing the fact that I was pregnant. I didn't want anybody knowing, honestly. I only told my mom because I knew that would be impossible to hide when my stomach started getting bigger and rounder.

"Cheryl, they're dead." I winced at her words and looked back at my other cats. They weren't dead. Taxidermied animals were not dead, they just weren't living their original life. They were living a new life. Sugarpea was laying on her mat, not moving but very much alive. Just not in the breathing way. All of my cats were taxidermied, it was something I had done since my first cat, Butler. A piece of his fur resided in my locket, and I only took it off when I showered. They made me happy. All of them did. Breathing or not, they were alive and brought me joy.

I had all of my cats in outfits, all specific to their own personalities. I felt it made them more alive. Cookie was in a simple, baby pink dress. Sugarpea was in a fitting grey shirt and small, navy blue shorts. Morgan's outfit was still undecided, as his full personality hadn't come to light. Wallace's outfit was by far my favorite: a solid black suit and a top hat that let his baby ears perk out. The outfits gave them character, it gave them a new lifestyle.

"Mom, I asked you to stop saying that. They're not dead."
My mom frowned at me, but she didn't press.

"Come on, were going out. You need to move on, baby, you're stronger than that." I sighed, but reluctantly I got up. I knew she had a point, I knew I had to be strong for myself, for my baby, and for my cats. It was necessary. After returning Sugarpea to her original spot on the shelf, I followed my mom out of the cat's room and went to my room to get ready for the outing, my moms' word repeating in my head.