CAT
by Helen Dawson
Sometimes you feel that you're on the edge. All you can do is look inwards. You're clinging to the sides of an ice rink. Watching that girl pirouetting in the centre. Sinking into the shadows. Willing her to fall, but you know the minute she stumbles they'll be there. Thousands of willing arms hungrily waiting to catch her. She falls into pillowed embraces, you fall onto cold hard ice.
You want to hate her. You want to give her venomous looks but she'd never notice, she's far too busy dazzling as the world gazes at her. Besides no matter how hard you try you can't hate her. It's not possible to hate her. Sickeningly beautiful, intelligent and just so nice. Purely and simply nice. And she's skating this way.
"Hello", she smiles. Such a lovely voice. She speaks as if she's trying to conceal years of elocution. You want to savour each word even though right now she's only given you the one. "You're Ana aren't you?"
"Yes" you stumble, amazed that not only have you been recognised but actually acknowledged. She knows your name, she's chosen to remember and recollect it. Your stomach turns to a thousand butterflies as your face is consumed by a huge uncontrollable smile. You look down at your skates trying to hide the red flush that you can now feel hotly spreading across your cheeks. You scuff at the ice with the end of your blades looking back up through a curtain of hair.
"I'm Catherine, call me Cat" she beams looking down at the humbled you from her elegant height. "You're in my art class aren't you?"
"Yes" You say again desperately searching the endless empty corridors of your brain for something to say, something to engage her, to keep her from skating off as quickly and gracefully as she arrived. But you say nothing, as you melt back into awkwardness.
"You have such great hair you know" says Cat unsettling the silence.You gush with flattered embarrassment. Any words that were edging their way out are now firmly locked back in. "I mean it, I'd give anything to have beautiful hair like that."
"Thank You" you say wondering if maybe you should return the compliment, tell her how beautiful she is, how clever, how nice. But it would just sound so wrong, so insincere in a way. Instead you stare down at the ice and wait for her to disappear again.
"Your art work's pretty amazing too, you know those flower design things you're working on? I was talking about them with Miss Jameson and we were both saying how lovely they are." You don't know how much more of this you can cope with. Your skate agitatingly digs deeper into the ice creating a fluffy pile of snowflakes.
"Thanks, what is it you're doing?" You ask coolly. Pretending not to know, pretending that the photographic image of the huge painting with its curvy lines of colour, its ballerinas dancing across the canvas, isn't there vivid in your head.
"Oh just some acrylic painting thing with ballerinas, it's pretty dull and unoriginal really." You can hardly believe that you're engaged in conversation, that by now you haven't been abandoned. People don't usually hang around with you for this long, especially people like Cat. You wonder why she's not off chatting up a guy or something.
"No, no I really like that one, it has er...flair? Elegance?...it's really energetic, graceful you know?" Just like you you say in your mind, but you wouldn't say that to her. Now Cat looks embarrassed. You look down at Cat's feet and are startled to see a fluffy snowflake pile just like yours. Surely she's used to such compliments.
"Thanks" she beams. "Listen, how long were you planning on hanging around here?"
"Oh I don't know, I came with my friend Abby" You point across the ice rink towards Abby's tiny figure which is now seductively pressed up against some guy's as she flails on the ice. He has her firmly caught in his arms, you can hear her childish laughter echoing around the arena. "But she seems to have abandoned me for some guy she knows."
"Oh dear, that's no good, I came here on my own. Couldn't persuade anyone to come with me." Sighs Cat. You find it fairly incomprehensible that anyone should snub Cat's company. "My friends don't really like ice skating" she adds. "Far too busy working too." She rolls backwards slightly on her skates. Her blades leaving behind the little snow pile as they create tiny silvery thread tracks. You gaze down at her white, white boots and then at your own hired bright blue pair. They're criss crossed with years of scratches into the nasty plastic. You've always longed for a sparkling pair of leathery white ones like Cat's although you hardly ever go skating. You'd just like to look at them gleaming in a casual pile at the bottom of your wardrobe. Like the black feather boa that sits on top of it, never to be worn, just to be looked at, to feel its feathery softness now and then, to imagine that you could be the type of person to wear one. Cat wore a beautiful silvery grey one to the summer ball last year.
"That's no good" You say remarking on the situation with Cat's friends.
"Yeah well, I can't expect them to want to hang around with me all the time. Anyway if you haven't got any plans after you've left here how would you like to keep me company? Have a hot chocolate someplace? I know you barely know me but you know?"
"Oh of course, I'd loved to!" you reply slightly over enthusiastically. "I mean I have nothing else to do."
"That's great, I really thought I'd be doomed to another afternoon wasted infront of the telly desperately avoiding a history essay. What about Abby? Doesn't look like she'll want to come too." You glance towards Abby who seems even more absorbed in this guy who's some friend of her brother's or something. You can never keep up with Abby's guys. She seems to have a different one each week.
"No, it doesn't but should I ask her anyway?" Cat agrees and rather surprisingly takes your hand and pulls you out towards the centre of the rink. It's the first time all day you have left the protective gloomy shadows of the edge. And here you are gliding across the arena, the clutch of Cat's steady hand maintaining your balance. You feel an exhilarating confidence as suddenly Cat lets go and darts around you. It feels like she's some sort of flower bearer, one of those girls that swoop and swirl as they herald the coming of a princess. You're moving faster and faster and you're too scared to stop yourself incase it makes you fall and come toppling out of the smooth dreaminess you feel, just sailing along. You can see Abby getting closer and closer and realise that somehow you must stop yourself. Cat retakes your hand as she slows you down and you feel yourself gently bumping to a halt at the edge alongside Abby. "Abby, me and Ana are planning on going back to my place when we leave here, would you like to come too?" says Cat friendly but not too invitingly. Abby looks slightly confused and hunches her shoulders up into a shrug.
"Oh, it's OK Rob's invited me to his so I'm heading there pretty soon." She gives you a questioning look then adds as an after thought "sorry."
"Right," says Cat, "We'll catch you some other time. Are you ready to go Ana?" You love the way she says your name, so carefully, lingering over the 'a' then softening the 'na'. So many people say it so harshly as if they're impatient with you.
"Sure, I'll see you Abby." You smile back at Abby as you're walking away on the edges of your blades, but Abby's not looking at you.
...
You eventually turn into the driveway of Cat's house. Her pristine ice skates are proudly dangling over your shoulders. You've paraded them through town as if they were your own, wondering what it would be like to be able to skate in them , as if they are what magically generate the ease and grace of their wearer. The driveway twists and turns alongside a vast expanse of front garden littered with leaves. The house is slowly uncovered as it emerges through the tangle of shrubs and trees. You feel as though you are a million miles from that busy road now. Various plants claw away at the side of a really big house. The type of house you could imagine Cat in. You've always had this contrasting vision of her too, in a small council house surrounded by numerous brothers and sisters screaming out for her attention. You could see baby brothers fingering butter and toast into her hair and little sisters scrawling on her immaculate school books. You've imagined her in thousands of family settings but the contrast of these two played on your mind. Now you are a guest in the reality.
Beneath the tangling climbing plants, the roses, the ivy, the Virginia Creeper, the house seems to be caked in a thick smooth coating. Its crystallized whiteness makes the house appear as though someone has covered it with icing sugar. There are tiny cracks etched across its surface like the scratches on your hired skates, like the slivery tracks of the ice rink. It feels as if any time the icing could crumble and fall off the house in glittery shards uncovering the ancient bare bricks. But for now the steeply sloped dark red roof seems to be desperately hanging onto the icing as well as it can, whilst at the same time concealing numerous little windows here and there.
"That's my room" Cat says pointing at one of the tiny delicately leaded windows. "I'll show it to you from the inside soon enough." You smile at her wondering what she'd make of your very ordinary room on the very ordinary first floor of your house. Inside the house it's almost too perfect. The hallway too grand. Too well papered. Too clean. The picture frames are full of politely smiling faces that Cat ignores as she walks straight past them. She walks almost on tip toe as if not to make a mark, not to grace the place with a single blemish. She shows you the dining room. The table looks as if nobody has ever eaten at it, laughed across glasses of wine, the room feels totally empty. All its dust, its layers of memory removed. The sitting room's the same. The settee is stiff, not cosied into shape night after night. The room feels as if it is wrapped in invisible dust sheets. The kitchen is sterile. The gleam of the tiles pierce the back of your eyes. It's all so quiet. You float on through the house, it feels emptier and emptier room after room. Until you get to the attic.
...
Cat's room. Cat tells you that the attic is her territory, her parents keep to the rest of the house. You can imagine them like ironed out shadows floating passively in and out of their immaculate rooms as if they have never really existed. Living beneath Cat in this tiny world of organised chaos. There are so many things crammed into her room. Your eye journeys you around it as it dances from one thing to the next. It alights on the silvery grey feather boa as Cat slumps back on her bed, her feet still touching the ground, her long chic back stretched out. Her wavy dark brown hair pillows out around the crest of her head as it settles into her duvet. You wonder what it would be like to lie down next to her. Just silently. Both of you absorbed in the silence of the house and thinking, not needing words. You wonder what it would be like just to have that kind of friendship with someone. As it is, it is too uncomfortable not to break the silence.
"I remember this from the summer ball" You say bent over Cat as you're picking up the silvery grey boa and running it through your hands. Cat smiles and takes one end of it in her hand as she gently strokes it. She eases it from you as she sits up on the bed. She then hooks it around your neck bathing you in its creamy smoothness. You feel almost possessed by it, the luxury of it as it captures you in Cat's perfume.
"It suits you, it really does. I would say grey is your colour but that doesn't seem like such a compliment does it?" You laugh into a smile as Cat does too. "Grey is such a 'lifeless' colour."
"Yes, but it has a sort of....elegance, a cold......sophistication." You say trying to sound impressive. You're still fondling the feathers when you notice one silently swoop to the floor. You bend down to scoop it up and place it in your pocket. Cat's wandering towards her wardrobe. It's a gigantic affair packed with clothes.
"I'd love to see you all dressed up." She says pulling out various outfits. "Most of these are my mother's cast offs, she's into browns at the moment. Why don't we spend the afternoon dressing up? I haven't done that with anyone for absolutely ages." You smile tentively back at her. She makes you feel like some kind of precious doll to be wrapped up and played with every now and again. You've often looked at her clothes and wondered what it would be like to wear them, to chose from the masses of gorgeous outfits every morning. "How about this? This is one of my favourites," Cat says as swirls of a deep midnight blue envelop you as she pushes it against your body. You worry that it wont fit. That your flat figure will just look drowned in the fabric. "No, not quite you, something more fitted, something black." You savour the relish in her words, the excitement at the prospect of dressing you. "Ah, perfect," she coaxes a long sleek black dress from the heart of the wardrobe. You can see her in it, her cat-like figure curving it into shape.
Your clothes lie in a crumpled heap on the floor as you stand shivering in your underwear. You clutch at yourself but surprisingly you are not embarrassed. Cat has somehow comforted you into a sense of security. You wouldn't want to offend her by being nervous. Your jeans and jumper look so ordinary lying there as Cat pulls the dress over your body, so carefully. Her hair delicately brushes against your shoulders as she stands up to survey the result. She smiles, her eyes twinkling with delight as she leads you to her mirror. You can hardly believe that's you standing there. You look at the body coated in the plain black material. It looks so smooth and gentle curves have appeared that you have never noticed before. You don't quite curve into it the way Cat would, but yes it does suit you.
"Make-up," Cat says with a sparkle. She pushes you into her dressing table chair and quickly scoops your hair out of the way. You feel totally entrusted to her now. She has you caught in her room as she works away, painting onto you a new vision, just like the way she makes ballerinas dance into life on a dull canvas. Cat opens a drawer to reveal an array of glittery glimering colours. Lipsticks, mascaras, eye shadows and blushers. You think of your own modest collection that you keep in a small box under your bed. All neat, barely used. Your mother asked you once why you never wore any of it. You told her that you never went to any of the right places.
Cat works with expertise. Coating lashes, ringing eyes with a delicate smooth line of black. Brushing powdery colour into cheeks and onto eyelids. Tickling your face into a new visage as she persuades the light to settle upon it in a way it has never done so before. Her mirror flashes glimpses of you as you are allowed to open your eyes every now and again. You've never looked like that in your mirror. Cat finally seems content as she releases your head and moves behind you to peer at your reflection over your shoulder. She looks pleased with her work as she lifts up your hair and lets it fall softly back against your neck. She strokes it back from your forehead as she takes her brush in her other hand. The brush runs through your hair attacking knots on its way. She's ever so careful but it still hurts as the brush drags against another knot. You keep your pain silenced as another sweep of the brush tilts your head back and then releases it again. Eventually the silky threads of your hair are untangled and the brush falls through it uninterrupted. You want Cat to continue forever as you relax into the brush's rhythm. But Cat comes to halt as she lays down her brush and regathers your hair in her hands. She twists and rolls it between fingers as she takes clips and pins from her dressing table and pushes them into your hair. She pulls it into shape fastening it securely with an intricate network of clasps. You watch her in her mirror, follow her movements as she whirls around you, her fingers set to work to weave your hair into new designs. Every so often she catches you looking at her and playfully smiles at you.
Finally she takes a step back to signal that she has finished her transformation. She leaves you alone to reflect in her mirror.
"You look stunning" enthuses Cat. You say nothing as you continue your gaze in her mirror. "You haven't got shoes! Oh you can't be complete without shoes" exclaims Cat as she rumages about at the bottom of her wardrobe. She produces a pair of very strappy and very high sandals and forces you back onto her bed so she can slide them onto your feet. She orders you to stand. As you raise yourself off the bed you begin to topple with your new found height but catch yourself before you fall. You daren't move though as you feel very precariously balanced with your feet off the ground.
"How can you walk in these things?" you say as you slowly shuffle yourself away from the bed.
"Practise" says Cat laughing at you. You bend down to unfasten them and release your feet back to the ground, relieved to be free of Cat's shoes.
Cat reaches forward to take the shoes from you but instead her hand lingers over yours. Her long fingers taper out as her fingernails whisper over the back of your hand. The pads of her fingertips settle lightly on your knuckles as you still grasp her shoes, your fingers curled around their straps. You look up at her, her eyes hollow themselves into yours. Drawing you in deeper and deeper. Everything feels so still. The moment tensely frozen. She doesn't seem to be breathing. You don't seem to be breathing.
The shoes suddenly thud to the floor as you break from her gaze to look down at them. Cat draws back and moves round you settling herself upon her bed. She sits up in her pillows, her legs tucked in against her body. You sit yourself on the edge of her bed, your hands clinging to the side as you watch your toes curl and uncurl into the carpet.
"I wish you could have kept the shoes on". Says Cat quietly. "You were almost perfect". You smile down at the carpet and then turn your head to look at Cat.
"They didn't feel quite right."
"Well they looked great". She sighs and curls herself tighter into the bed. She's watching you intently from her corner. Her eyes follow the arch of your back, you can feel them running down the sides of your body, she's peering over the side of her bed at your naked toes. She's moved so that she's kneeling beside you as you both now look down at your toes still trying to bury themselves into the carpet. She turns her head towards you but you still look down at the floor. You can feel that she wants you to look at her but your body stiffens. You can feel your hair prickling up on the back of your neck, you can feel it prickling beneath the network of clips and slides. You can feel her breaths close to you, landing on the side of your exposed neck. Your hands dig deeper into the mattress, your feet press harder into the floor.
"Ana." She says softly. Her voice beckoning you to look at her.
"Yes?" You say back, still peering into the carpet.
"Ana?" This time you turn to look at her. Your faces are so close. Her perfume pervades the small volume of air that lies between you. Your and Cat's breaths meet in the air passing over each other, going on to travel warmly across the landscape of your faces. You've watched her so many times. You've watched her sitting in classes chewing the ends of pens. You've watched her talking with her friends, her face and arms alive with expression. You've watched her carefully selecting drinks and chocolate bars in the local shop. You've watched her skating across the ice with such ease and magnificence. You've watched her and you know she's seen you watching her. You're watching her now, your eyes intently fixed on her face. You're no longer sneaking glances, she's letting you follow each and every contour with your eyes.
"Ana" She breaths. She murmurs it over your face as she leans her body into you, almost but not quite touching. She lets her hand fall gently on your leg as she moves her mouth up to your ear. "Would you like to kiss me?" She whispers privately, enticingly, invitingly. You close your eyes as you feel the warmth of her face moving down over your cheek, closer and closer, poised over your lips. Then a kiss of cold air. You open your eyes to see her padding across her room. She turns to smile. A smug smile.
...
"When do you have to be home?" You detect a slight impatience in her voice and suspect that maybe she doesn't want you here anymore. Maybe it's because her parents are due home soon and she doesn't want you here when they get back, maybe.
"Oh...mum will just think I'm at Abby's but perhaps I should be getting back" you say hoping that Cat will persuade you to stay.
"Well then I better not keep you any longer" says Cat as she turns her back to you and busies herself by putting make up and hairslides away. You start to unclip your hair and it tumbles down in curls about your head. Cat takes each clip from you and puts them back in their place. You unzip yourself from her dress and hand that back to her too. You now feel awkward in your near nakedness as you quickly pull back on your jumper and jeans. You retrieve your own shoes from the corner they nestled themselves in and now you're ready to go home. Cat leads you out of her room, you glance down at her skates lying next to her doorway and now you notice little black scuff marks on them. You walk through the house and it's still so silent. But now you see cobwebs in the corners of ceilings and sections of wallpaper that don't quite match up. Cat opens the huge doorway for you and you walk out of that house into the dark.
"Are your parents home soon then?" you enquire as you stand shivering on her doorstep.
"Not for ages yet" she replies.
"Oh....bye then, see you at school" you say politely as you're walking away.
"Yeah, see you next Monday" Cat calls into the darkness as she shuts the door in its face.
...
The next time you see Cat her arms are coupled between two other girls'. She's in the centre, they stand to her side. She does actually acknowledge you nicely with a wave but that's all you get as she disappears from view down the noisy school corridors. Abby's talking at you yet again about Rob as you finger a silky smooth feather that rests in your pocket. You slowly slide it out and let it silently swoop to the floor. You look back at it lying there as you're walking away. Later you return to see if it's still there. But it's gone.