The second of four consecutive weekly short stories about cats
The cat’s eyes are little black pools on a white face. Looking into them, Brigid feels like she’s looking straight at death.
“You’re a creepy one aren’t you?” she murmurs, stroking the fluffy white head. The cat meows in response. It’s only a kitten, a tiny body with a wet nose and rough tongue.
Brigid hasn’t named it yet, but now, staring into its eyes, she decides to call it Ghost.
*
Ghost was a present from Brigid’s parents. They worry about her because she doesn’t have any friends or hobbies. She doesn’t tell them that she gets her groceries delivered, but even so they think she needs a partner and keep pressuring her to download Tinder or Bumble or go on dinner dates with their colleagues’ single children. Brigid hates it when her parents try to meddle with her private life. She doesn’t want to go to Asian Fusion with Jordan or Max or Isaac. She doesn’t want to go to the museum with George or Thomas. All of these men have their own lives. The prospect of inviting them into her life seems alien.
“You need to see someone,” her mother keeps saying. “Whether it’s a friend or a partner or even just a colleague for coffee. Don’t you like anyone you work with?”
Brigid has seen photographs of her mother before her marriage. She used to wear colourful dresses and make-up. Now she wears black and white and a bare face.
Brigid hasn’t told her parents that she quit her Ministry of Education job and is now working remotely for a business in China. She sometimes has to attend Zoom meetings and explain her work but she otherwise talks to nobody.
Something about only speaking in Mandarin gives her an added sense of distance from the city around her. Even though she spoke Mandarin growing up, it doesn’t seem like a real language to her. Her entire life she was forced to speak English – at school, at high school, at university. Mandarin feels like she’s pretending to be somewhere else. That’s exactly how she likes to feel.
Brigid’s parents don’t understand why she’s so antisocial but it makes sense to her. Other people are worlds, entities, that she can’t control. Why would she want them affecting her? In her little apartment, she can control everything. The bed has a white duvet and a navy blue throw blanket folded at its base. The microwave is crumb-free and her oven is perpetually clean. All the cutlery is in its correct place, the drying rack never has more than one plate in it, and the couch is pristine. Brigid left the walls mostly empty, but she did put up two framed paintings. One is a country landscape. The other is a ballet dancer.
The apartment has enough floor space for Brigid’s blue yoga mat and 3kg weights. A little television is set into the wall. Blue cushions and a dark blue blanket are arranged neatly on the grey couch.
The apartment’s best feature are the floor-to-ceiling windows which take up an entire wall. From the window, Brigid can see Wellington harbour stretching into the distance. It makes her feel like a tiny speck and she loves it.
When her parents (her mother) brought Ghost, Brigid was sitting in her armchair in front of her window with a cup of coffee. It was a wintry Saturday morning and she liked spending the morning reading and listening to music. Saturday mornings were her favourite so she felt somewhat cheated when her parents knocked at her door. She’d told them to give her plenty of warning if they were going to show up. Nevertheless, they were there, and they’d brought a cardboard box that contained Ghost.
“He can keep you company,” her mum said. “You like cats.” Brigid hates it when her mum tells her what she likes. She does in fact, like cats.
The kitten scrabbled around on the floor and Brigid looked on, worried that he’d make a mess.
“I don’t need company,” she said.
But she accepted the kitten.
*
Brigid and Ghost live alone in a Courtenay Place studio apartment. It’s on the third floor and gets very little sun. Sometimes, Brigid feels bad for subjecting an animal to a dark, sunless space. But then she remembers that she too, is an animal living in a dark, sunless space. And maybe she’s not super happy or motivated, but she’s fine.
Anyway, Ghost seems happy enough with the arrangement. He curls up in front of the window and sleeps for hours on end. When Brigid goes to bed, he crawls up her chest and tucks himself under her arm. The gentle vibrations of his skin reminds Brigid that she needs to wake up the next day.
Ghost fits perfectly into Brigid’s routine. After Brigid wakes up, Ghost runs around the apartment, jumping on the couch, chasing the rare traces of sunlight on the carpet. He’s like a little cloud. Even when he sheds, she finds herself happy to clean up his mess.
When they’re both awake, she finds herself talking to him. She likes to lie on her stomach on the floor so they’re face to face. He licks her nose and looks her directly in the eye.
“I was a weird child,” she tells him (in Mandarin). “I used to wish I wasn’t human.”
He blinks at her like he understands.
“I don’t like people. I wish people could be okay with that but they’re not. I wish my parents never came round.”
Ghost moves closer to her and curls up against her neck. Brigid curls around him and sleeps like that on the floor.
When she wakes, her entire body aches. Her bones crinkle and crack as she stands up and stretches. Somehow though, she feels happier than she has in a long time.
“You’re perfect, you know?”
Ghost leaps on her back and gently pads up and down. His tiny claws pierce her skin and she doesn’t want to get back up. It occurs to her that maybe she should stay on the ground forever.
Within a week, Brigid and Ghost grow inseparable. Soon, Brigid can’t remember what it’s like to be completely alone. Ghost has such a special personality – effervescent and entitled, affectionate yet aloof. Around him, Brigid feels both more alive and more removed. She starts skipping work so she can spend more time with him. The social energy wasted on work meetings is transferred to Ghost, who she now talks to constantly.
Brigid feels like Ghost understands everything. He knows how to react. When Brigid is talking about something sad, he comes closer, comforting her. When she’s happy or excited, he starts running around. She runs around with him, jumping on the coach, leaping on the bed. When she does her exercises, he rubs against her legs. It’s like ten years of her life have melted away.
At night, he always moves to the crook between her neck and shoulder. Gently, she whispers into his fur, telling him everything, everything she can think of. She always finishes by telling him how much she loves him, how much he means to her.
*
Brigid starts copying Ghost. The way he raises his haunches, the way he eats. The first time she puts her food in a bowl on the ground, it feels weird and unnatural. By the third time, it feels like second nature. Really, it’s comfortable. On all fours, she extends her neck and inhales the food she eats. She learns to enjoy the textures of her food around her mouth, the way it feels against her teeth.
After a week, it feels strange eating different food to Ghost. She googles food that both cats and humans cat eat, like couscous, brown rice, tuna, eggs, and meats. She orders them in bulk from the supermarket and thanks the delivery person with a simple nod. It’s her first time seeing another human in weeks. His flat, pale face is repulsive. The eyes are so small, the furless body so naked.
When the food arrives, she mixes it into a brown slop. After that, she dispenses it into two bowls and places them side by side on the kitchen floor. Brigid and Ghost kneel down together and eat at the same time every morning and night. The food is more nourishing than the salads and noodles Brigid used to make. Eating with Ghost, makes her feel stronger and healthier. Afterwards, they nap by the window and the world seems tiny and far away.
Humanity is beginning to feel wrong. She begins to wonder if there was some kind of mistake when she was born. Everything about Ghost makes sense. The neatness of his compact body. The fur which doubles as clothing. The protective claws, the beautiful eyes, the sensitive ears, and cleansing tongue. Brigid resents the need to shower but she doesn’t want her scent to disgust Ghost. Sometimes, he licks her neck and legs, but she only lets him do that if she’s recently washed.
It's unusual for Brigid to be the second quietest person in the room. Ghost sometimes talks to her, but it’s rare. He seems content to merely share the physical space, to grace her with his presence. When he does meow, she’s frustrated that she can’t understand. She trains her ears to hear the different cadences of his voice, attempts to decipher what he’s saying. It’s obvious now, when he’s hungry, tired, or wants attention. Whatever he wants, she’s happy to give.
*
Ghost likes to look out the window. Sometimes, his eyes look soft, desirous. Brigid wonders if he wants to go outside. It’s been months since she’s left the apartment, but she begins to think about taking Ghost out for an afternoon. The days are growing brighter and warmer and Brigid’s parents (her mother) keep leaving voice messages.
“Why aren’t you replying to us?”
“Call us sometime soon, please, darling. We’re worried about you.”
They knock at the door but she shouts that she’s busy. Her parents know her well enough not to force anything. Anyway, they know she’s got Ghost.
Eventually, she calls them.
“I’ll come over with Ghost if we can sit in the garden,” she says through the phone without any greeting.
“We can do whatever you want. We just want to see you,” her mother says.
Her mother’s voice is so harsh, so metallic, compared to Ghost’s soft purrs. Brigid has no great desire to see her parents but letting Ghost out in a closed garden seems better than in a public park. Not that she thinks he’d run away. He wouldn’t know what to do without her. But public parks are nasty and full of strangers. She always hated them and doesn’t want to subject Ghost to them.
Brigid’s parents watch Ghost and Brigid in the neatly kept garden. They prowl around together, sniffing the flowers, rolling around, chewing the grass. It is evident that the two share a close bond. Brigid flips onto her back and Ghost jumps on her stomach, needing with his two paws. Ghost nibbles Brigid’s ear and Brigid does the same back. Brigid wears a white sheet attached to her body with belts and an old dressing gown cord.
When it’s time to eat, Brigid refuses to sit at the outdoor table with her parents. She wants to eat out of a bowl with Ghost. Of course her mother wouldn’t prepare appropriate food for cats. She prepares pork spare ribs, mushroom glass noodles, chicken curry, all the things Brigid loved as a child. Just as well Brigid has packed the tuna, egg, and brown rice mix in a Tupperware container. Her parents looked on while she tipped the sludge into two white bowls and placed them carefully on the concrete. Brigid’s movements were practised, natural. Watching her kneel on all fours then bow her head, almost like she was praying.
*
There is a knock at the door. The sound startles Brigid and Ghost, both of whom leap up with annoyed meows. Apprehensively, the two move towards the door. Ghost sniffs the bottom of the door. Brigid hovers back. She’s more scared out of the two. Another knock.
“Brigid, are you in there? It’s Mum.”
The voice is familiar but Brigid doesn’t recognise it. She scuttles backwards towards the window, Ghost following suit.
“I have your spare key. If you don’t get the door, I’m coming in.”
The vocal tone is threatening and horrible, breaking the calm of the den.
With a violent creak, the door swings open. A middle-aged woman stands there, dressed in black trousers and a grey jumper.
“Brigid, it’s me. Won’t you come and say hello?”
The woman’s voice is all choked up. Brigid backs against the window, eyes large in her pale face. Negative emotion emanates from the woman and makes Brigid feel stressed. She hisses, raising her hackles.
The woman starts to visit the apartment regularly, letting herself in at the door. Brigid and Ghost get used to her presence and slowly start to move closer to her. One day, the woman brings treats and leaves them on the floor. Brigid and Ghost creep towards the treats, carrying them back towards the window. They’re homemade squares of salmon, whole-wheat flour, egg, and a hint of soy sauce. Delicious.
After a week, Brigid and Ghost get close enough for the woman to touch them. Gently, she raises a hand and touches Brigid’s white fur. It feels good, so Brigid stretches closer, leaning her weight against the woman’s legs. The woman’s body shakes and trembles while she strokes Brigid’s head. Brigid starts licking the woman’s tights. Even though the material, Brigid’s tongue is pointy and rough.
Next week's short story, the third in a series of four about cats, is by Hannah Field.
