Somewhere Else
Lynne starts talking to the cat on a freezing New Year's Eve.
When her gaze idly shifts to him, she is in the middle of watching the bad weather unravel. Despite their inconvenience, snowstorms have always been tantalizing to her. She admires how their greyish pattern, in its constant agitation, remains identical to itself – it reminds her of some greater truth she has never known, or maybe just forgotten. At this point in her life, she cannot tell.
It is, in any case, the best scenery this time of year can offer. Lynne doesn't mind enjoying it on her own. Whenever a hearty meal is over, the good jokes run out, and a drowsy serenity wraps the house, she leaves the sofa to the soon-to-be sleepers, free to place her chair wherever she pleases. She is content with sitting there and admiring the winter, thankfully shut out by the decorated windows of house Jowd.
She observes, silent, until the outline of a tail breaks the monotony by dancing in waves. She is amused to notice the little fellow is the least sleepy creature of the lot. If Alma walked to lie down in the bedroom right after dinner, the mass of napping detectives plus child in front of her tried to resist. It isn't like they had any other choice but failing. They stay, a mix of thunderous and light snores, as two yellow gems quietly scan them from the radiator.
In need of some company, she goes to grab him and his own blanket, mumbling about old dads. Jowd says it is mandatory – for a kitten, this Sissel is always inexplicably cold. Odd boy. Odd name.
She lays him on her legs, resigned to spend the time left until midnight alone with him.
"Hey, come here, little guy," Lynne chirps, swirling her fingers in the fur of his collar. "You didn't eat today, did you, kitty? I thought you would stuff your face, too. Last day of the year, last chance to have good chicken this year! You ought to make the most of it."
He turns around to grace her with a long stare. Once again, she is surprised. While he never was as lively as she expected him to be, the way he communicates with people always touches her heart.
As if he were, for some reason, constantly a step ahead everyone else.
"Don't look at me like that," she snorts. "You make me feel guilty for fooling around a bit. If nothing else, you are more festive than the whole bunch put together."
Lynne lifts him so he faces the busy sofa, laughing softly. He lets out a feeble meow, swinging his tail in their direction.
It feels nice, she thinks, to have such an odd and loving family. The cat is no exception.
"You know? Every now and then, I get he impression that you know more than we all do," she tells him, pensively. "Say. Would it be fine if I told you all my secrets? It's a fair deal. I talk, you listen. That way, maybe, I will get to know yours someday.
He curls up, a soft black doughnut, and purrs as if in agreement. She smiles.
With such a special friend, it might even work.
"I don't know why you never grow up, but I won't worry about it anymore," she promises, holding him in the light of a serene spring afternoon. "Jowd said you were born special. It's no surprise that you came along in such a special day. I wonder if you remember anything?"
Sissel keeps fiddling with the strings of her purse. He appears to be completely unaffected
Is he really, now?
"As for me, there is not much I remember," Lynne says, tracing his spine with her fingers. "I got scared so easily when I was a child. I cannot even remember what I was doing before. And still, for some reason, there is this detail I remember so clearly… something like a meteor shower, I suppose. As if all the stars were plunging down from the sky. Did you see it too?"
A yawn, long and indifferent.
"It was so beautiful."
But his gaze, ever so attentive, is firmly fixed into hers.
"The sea is gorgeous, Sissel. Do you like the sea?"
They sit on a bench at the farthest end of the docks. A small distance away, the rest of the family swarms around a passing ice-cream kiosk. She takes good care of him, untiring.
"I have always been drawn to it for some reason," Lynne muses, pointing at the blue ribbon that flows against the horizon. "Kind of like stories of hidden treasures and faraway places, but it runs deeper than that. It's more of a feeling of loss."
Sissel trots around her legs, climbing up and down her lap in intervals, with the repetitive calmness of the waves. He stays silent, but straightens his ears.
"It is… how can I put it? It is as if something I used to care about had been buried somewhere deep, in the sand of the ocean floor, and it were up to me to find it again. Because if I don't, nothing and nobody will return i."
She lowers her hand to his head, tickling him just above his nose. As unusual as his reactions always are, he seems to like it.
"What do you say, kitty? Do you think there may be something out there?"
As always, the question stays unfinished. Kamila runs to her in the wind, fetching her cone. The silence hangs in the air.
And it is so weird, she thinks, how she expects him to answer every time.
"I had a special encounter," she whispers in his fur, when the others are talking and Jowd is too tired to listen. "I saw this man pass by the precinct. He was dressed differently from the last time I met him, but you wouldn't need his clothing to recognize him… his hair is enough."
She chuckles, and Sissel turns over, playing the timeless game of chasing after anything that might catch his attention. He follows the swaying her finger like he would follow her words, if he could. Does he hear her?
"It's been a while since he got out of prison. He seemed to be much happier. But I think he smiled to me, sideways, and – if I wasn't mistaken – he had the saddest smile I have ever seen."
"He must be very sorry to this day," she sighs, lowering her head. "I am, too. I feel so sorry for him, even though I don't really know why sometimes. It… sneaks upon me, in a way, and the memory hurts more than it should. I wonder.
When she drops her hand by her side, he is already lying here to meet it. It is like he knows her every quirk.
Her melancholy dissipates.
Lynne wakes up calling Sissel's name. Hours later, curled up in Kamila's usual spot on the sofa, she tells him.
"I don't know why that nightmare was so strange," she says, measuring the words one by one. "I was trapped in a tight, gloomy space. It was all black, darker than your fur. There was nothing to help me see – nothing but a red light that popped up at some point. And then, when my sight adapted to the colour of the lamp, I saw buttons and levers of some kind, all turned off."
Sissel's mouth opens, leaving space to a long, querulous sound. She is not sure what it means.
For other pets, it could be a call for food, sleep or tedious games. Not for him. If there is anything she knows by now, after all these years, is that this cat is all but like the others.
To him, it is the sign of an opening. Of longing, almost.
"I was sure there was a sleeping body beside me," she continues, shivering slightly at the memory. "Finding it was my only concern. I couldn't, though – no matter how hard I tried to feel my way around. And I started to fall asleep, too. I couldn't move. It was terrifying, until I saw him."
He sits, carefully balancing himself on her knee, and licks the back of her hand with a cold tongue. It stings a bit, but she lets it happen. It is a rare gift, coming from Sissel.
"There was his face, showing from the outside. The man of so many years ago. In some way, I knew his image was tied to salvation. I tried to scream, and woke up doing so. If only I could guess, even remotely, why I was calling your name instead…"
Sissel jumps down her leg, and quickly occupies the empty space by her side. He starts running in circles, with a precision that shouldn't fit a kitten. Round and round he goes. Six times.
She is astonished. From the nearest chair, unseen, Jowd watches over their discourse, and says nothing.
After a few seconds of mutual staring, mischief paints itself on Lynne's features. She grabs Sissel without a warning. In a flurry of very confused seconds, she holds him to her chest, her lips approaching his disproportionate puppy ears.
"It would be so funny, wouldn't it?"
She cackles, and her whisper is playful – something that belongs to them alone.
"So funny, if that actually were you. I don't know why you would steal someone else's face, but even then!"
A moment before she dives back into the book she is reading, Kamila meets her gaze, and smiles broadly. She loves seeing her little friend so happy – her big sister, even more so.
Lifting that forever feather-light weight to her nose, Lynne lets Sissel's muzzle occupy her whole field of vision. It is plain incredible, she thinks cheerfully, just how much she loves this cat.
"In the end, if what they say is true, you have nine lives," she says, sustaining his gaze with all her energy. "Maybe we met in another one. Just think of how cool that would be!"
Promptly, pretending to play, Sissel pokes at her nose.
I know, he meows. Not really.
Here is my entry for this year's Ghost Swap exchange tumblr. To plalligator, my recipient: your prompts were all so interesting that it took me a whole week to settle on one. Luckily, all of them matched a story I had already written in the past – except one! So, here is some Lynne - Sissel post-game interaction. A new experience to me, but still a pleasure to write.