Without Wings

3 - Emily

3 ~ Emily

When go up to my bedroom later, Jasper follows me. He is an old cat, but, I decide, he has lived a good life. I smile sadly. I can’t imagine life without Jasper. He is always there, so loyal, so comforting.  

My bedroom is right at the top of the house, a little higher than everyone else’s rooms. It’s small, but comforting, filled with photographs of my old life. I miss those times so much, I never want to forget, but sometimes it’s so hard to keep going through the repetitive motions of life: Like it’s already written out for me on a script and I just have to keep rehearsing the lines over and over again, and then in the end, looking forward to the time when the curtains close for good.

Jasper jumps up onto my bed, curling up and making himself comfortable. I sit next to him and stroke him, singing softly. He seems more relaxed when I sing. My mum used to sing to me. Time passes but I’m not aware. I just sit here, my back against the wall, in my fluffy socks and old baggy jumper, singing to Jasper. Before I know it tears are streaming down my face. It is too much; I’m too sad, too lonely. I cry. I cry the tears I had cried when Mum died. Tears, that had fallen repeatedly over the last eight years, because I knew my heart was broken and all I wanted was to feel her embrace, to know I was safe, no matter what. Harry told me it was going to be OK, that Dad would look after us. But he didn’t. He was wrapped up in his own grief. He forgot about his children. He walks about in a daze even now. Harry doesn’t realise. But I do. I see the hurt behind his eyes. It makes me sad; so sad.

Jasper slowly rises and daintily leaps off the bed. His actions are slower than normal. I watch him waddle out of the room. He pauses when he reaches the door and looks at me. His eyes are green, deep and familiar. I look straight into them. Jasper eventually looks away, with a flick of his tail and leaves my room. He must want feeding. I sit exactly where I am.   

When I wake, the sun is setting silently, and I remember Jasper. I creep down the stairs and listen for the sound of Dad or Harry moving about the house but it’s very quiet. In the kitchen I open a can of cat food and go to pour it in his empty bowl. But the bowl isn’t empty. Maybe Harry’s done it already. I put the can down and stare out of the window above the sink. Our garden is long and thin, lined with blossom trees. In the spring, buds start to grow, and then the grass becomes dotted with pink and as it falls, it’s like pink, smooth, soft snow

I have a memory, a wonderful memory. Dad, Harry, Mum and I would grab handfuls of the blossom and throw them over each other.  I see the image in the reflection of the window, like an old film. I stare. It has to be a refraction of the light or my mind finally giving up and haunting me. But the image is there. And although it brings pain, it also fills me with happiness and love. Then I look past the image and at the bottom of the garden where the big maple tree looms.  It’s not the spring; no petals are on the floor. It’s the autumn. Instead of blossom, the leaves have begun to fall recently and I have been watching the colours change throughout the town. The whole tree is still surrounded by a carpet of gold. On the carpet, a black cat stands out. He is curled up, his eyes closed. It is his favourite spot, right there, under the tree. I run out the back door, down the route of blossom trees, to sit with him. As I approach, he looks up at me, opens his eyes and they make contact with mine. I see the image again. He was there, jumping about, just a little kitten, the petals falling, the pink snow, and the smiles. I sit next to him, and stroke him, right on his back where he loves it the most. There’s something different about Jasper, and people who meet him, can feel it too. They know the black cat that lives at the house with the iron gate out front, is more than friendly. It’s like he understands, not just me but everyone and everything around him.

I scratch behind his ears and he purrs quietly and he might be smiling but he lays his head between his paws and sighs. I stay with him and he stays with me.