Hard To Believe

I don't know why it's so hard to believe. I'm just like anyone else. Okay, so I may not be as good-looking as most of the other toms…so what? If Coricopat can get Bombalurina, why shouldn't I be able to get Jemi?

That's right: I'm in love with Jemima. And, what's more, she loves me. Why is that so hard to believe? I probably sound like a broken record (whatever that is) already, but consider Coricopat: he's not exactly Tugger, either, and is kind of…almost…freaky. I don't mean that in a nasty way, but, afterall, how else can you describe a psychic? So, anyway, the not-so-good-looking freak (kind of like me, really) is in a relationship with Bombalurina, the gorgeous, attractive queen whom almost every tom falls for.

Now consider this: the not-so-good-looking – ugly, even – shy-to-almost-being-freaky tom who loves to joke around (me) is in a relationship with Jemima, the quietly attractive, beautiful queen with the clear soprano singing voice and who, I might add, is the daughter of Bombalurina. (Like mother, like daughter?) If Coricopat is with Bombalurina, then I can't see why I shouldn't be believed when I say that Jemima loves me.

So Plato has been hanging around Jemima a lot lately, trying to get her attention, right? Jemima told me about how he tried to kiss her, and now he has taken to stalking her. That dude won't take 'no' for an answer, according to her (as I very well know – he is my brother, afterall). Since he won't listen to her protests, Jemima asked me to talk to Plato about it.

Slightly apprehensively, I broached the subject the next time I saw him. Naturally, dear brother claimed that he wanted Jemima badly and would make her want him.

"Don't you dare." It just came out. I didn't really know what I was saying at the time, but I was saying it.

Plato just looked at me as though he couldn't believe his ears. "What?"

I gathered my courage (I know he's my brother, but it still takes courage to confront him like that), drew myself to my full height and repeated slightly louder, "Don't you dare."

"Did I hear you correctly?" Plato stepped towards me, anger beginning to distort his face. Gee, he can be scary sometimes. Maybe I should start calling him a freak.

"I sure hope so," I replied, beginning to feel slightly cocky myself, "because, if you didn't, you might need to go to the vet to get those ears of yours cleaned out."

That was when he cracked. I really don't like provoking Plato, but something had to be said. Anger seethed out of him like lava, and I could feel the hot air of his breath against my face as he pinned me against the wall.

"Pooh, your breath stinks."

Those two steely eyes bore into mine as he hissed, "Are you telling me what to do and what not to do?"

"No," I replied, "I am merely trying to protect Jemima."

"She doesn't need your 'protection', brother," he spat.

That hurt.

"She can look after herself. It's not like I'm going to hurt her, anyway."

I wasn't so sure.

"Why should you 'protect' her, anyway? You barely ever speak to her."

Defiantly, I raised my chin. "I speak to her more than you realize. And she has told me that you are beginning to scare her."

Plato suddenly assumed a wicked grin. "You love her, don't you?"

"And if I do?"

"Then tough luck, Admetus – she's going to be mine."

"She won't – not now, not ever. She already has me."

"What did you just say?"

"You heard me."

Plato then erupted into laughter – evil, mocking laughter. I swear that, one of these days, he's going to turn into another Macavity. "In your dreams, brother," he said as he began to walk away.

"And in my reality."

That stopped him. "You really believe that, don't you?"

"And you don't. I'd say 'ask her yourself', but I don't want to see you anywhere near her. Got that?"

"You can't tell me who to associate with and who not to."

"I'm only acting on Jemima's wishes and asking you to keep away from her. That's all."

"I can do what I like, Admetus, and you can't stop me."

I was angry now. Reasonable discussion wasn't going to get through to him. Time to try another tactic. "Maybe not, but I'll do my best to try."

Plato was in my face again. Have you ever been intimidated by your own brother? It's not very pleasant. "You fool," was all he said. There would have been a fight right then and there had Munkustrap not walked past at that moment. Plato hissed once more and left.

He hates me now. Talk about brotherly love.

Oh, Jemi. The things I have done and would do for you.

You know what? I don't really care anymore – if Plato hates me, that's his problem. Just another one to add to the collection.

I went to see Coricopat for advice about getting people to believe me in case I happened to tell anyone else and got the same reaction. He just told me not to worry about other cats – if Jemima and I are in love and are happy together, we're in love and happy together, fullstop. Nothing and no-one can ever change that. Now I'm trying to stick to that notion.

Ah, Jemi. I watch her now. Her curvaceous, slender figure is draped seductively albeit casually over my chest. My eyes trace every curve – every gorgeous curve – of her.

"Jemi," I whisper.

She lifts her head to look at me. "Yes, Addy?"

"I love you."

She smiles. "I love you, too."

I pull her closer and begin to trail kisses up her side.

Jemi giggles. "You like teasing me, don't you?"

I grin. "Only to hear you laugh, darling." I continue my way up until I reach her neck. It looks so fragile without her collar.

She leans closer and pouts pointedly. "What are you waiting for?"

Slowly, I draw her closer to me; her lips closer to mine. As our lips meet, everything feels right, and I know that that's how it should be.

I don't care that others don't believe me. All that matters is that Jemi and I believe in each other – and that's enough for me.


Disclaimer: I DO NOT own any of the characters in this story; they belong entirely to T.S. Eliot, Andrew Lloyd Webber and whoever else had a hand in their creation. I DO, however, own the story itself, which is protected in my name under Australian Copyright Law dating back to 2009.