Chapter 13: You Think You Know Somebody
What was she doing here-- it was her, and that was for damn sure; she was dressed just like I remembered her. But nonetheless, how and why was she here…? I felt my heart beginning to race; after all, I had not seen her in person-- or whatever you called this in the last ten years; Why have I been sent here…? I wondered, beginning to chase after her so that I would not lose her; determined to keep up with her, and discover the reason she was here-- she walked with quite a fast pace for someone about to have a baby in a couple of months, after all; I ran after her; trying to ignore the sensation as moving cars and people passed directly through me as I darted out into their paths, no longer caring now that I had learned I was unseen by them all. As I walked-- and ran every few seconds, I became more and more determined to discover the reason she was here-- the reason she had lied to me on countless occasions; 'Your father and I moved in here just after your grandmother died, Beatrice-- that was 1988.' I had never known my mother to tell a falsehood before-- and her being here-- this almost disproved everything she had told me of her life before I had been conceived. She had never mentioned New York-- in fact, she had told me, once, that she hadn't been further than Nevada, and was planning to take me to Europe for graduation-- that was, of course, before she had died. This is impossible, I thought after I had finally caught up with her. I caught my breath, trying to make sense of all of this-- My mother was never in New York! I thought to myself for what seemed the millionth time.
But all the same, here she was-- happy and young. Just like I'd always remembered her-- before the pain, and before her death-- before looking into her empty eyes the day she was buried. I felt tears already forming in my eyes. I look exactly like her, I realized with some satisfaction, as I followed her down a very narrow alleyway, She was so beautiful-- she always was, I realized with much bitterness, Why did she have to die so young…?
But it did not matter-- at least not now. I was here, and although this was nothing but a memory, and she would never know that I had been watching her, we were together again, in some depressing, pitiful way… I felt more tears, as I mouthed her name, painfully; remembering our last words-- our last trip to the market-- our last dinner. Small, trivial things at the time that now seemed so important. I longed for them-- to feel the embrace of my mother again, but that was an impossibility that could not be done-- even by the strongest magic.
The image of her was frightening striking; the long dark hair done up in a ponytail, the nails beautifully unpainted, and a maternity dress that would not have allowed for her slender physique half a year earlier. I smiled at the sight of her. She was dead, but I had forgotten this-- although only for a little while.
She suddenly stopped dead in her tracks and crouched down low. I followed her gaze as I came nearer, and found that she was staring into the yellow eyes of a small black cat that had nestled itself in-between a couple of garbage cans, and was nibbling on a fish-bone as it eyed her with mild interest. Its luminous eyes were the only thing of color in the shadows. My mother obviously had a good eye, for had she not noticed the tiny wretch, I never would have. "Hello," she cooed, as she reached out a finger to stroke its fur. It dropped the fish-bone, and ventured out of the shadows, allowing her to scratch it behind the ears. It began to purr in turn. I frowned-- why had my mother not been wary of the thing? After all, stray cats could turn out to be rabid. But my mother had been a gentle thing; she had taken care of sick animals that she happened to find-- and would cry if they did not make it in her care-- I would cry with her… so, why was I feeling this way? I had always loved animals-- what was it about this one that made me feel so uneasy and sick to my stomach...?
I ventured closer, and focused my gaze upon the creature; my heart instantly froze in my chest, for I recognized the black cat-- it was the same one that my father had run over in our car nearly a decade before… The little wretch was Jacqueline! But why was she here…? "Don't," I murmured the warning, forgetting again that I could not change the past… I went to shoo the cat away as the despicable creature leapt into my mother's arms, and continued to purr.
"Have you been lost long?" she asked the cat, and the cat seemed to intensify its purrs as an alternative to 'yes.' Without another word said, my mother hugged the thing, and continued to walk in the same direction. I followed the pair closely behind-- hardly daring to keep my eyes open, due to the downright fear and surprise I now felt at having had witnessed it all thus far.
I was soon out of breath once again-- I could not believe that the woman walked quickly-- was she training for a track meet or something? What was wrong with her-- why was she acting as if she was in fear that she was being followed by someone?
Could she somehow sense me there…?
No. That was impossible.
I continued to follow her down the alleyway, then out of it, and onto the other side of the street; she was acting awfully suspicious-- my mother, I mean… What was she aiming at? Why did she seem so very nervous? She was avoiding each and every person she met on her way like the plague-- even the small child who could be no more than three walking alongside her father… People stared at her, for she was in such a hurry… She darted in and out of corners as if we were racing through some maze.
Eventually, however, we came to stop in front of one of the towering apartment buildings that I had only previously seen in the movies or on television shows before; she paused to smile at the still purring beast, opened a dark-brown door, and stepped inside, making sure the door was closed behind her before she continued onwards. I continued to follow them doggedly up a narrow staircase, and then through a very wide and welcoming hallway. My mother paused in front of a small door marked 3B, fished through the purse she clutched for a moment, and then pulled out a golden key, which unlocked the door. She opened it, and stepped inside; I, of course followed her wake, and stepped over the threshold and into the beautiful apartment just as the door was closed, and securely locked once again.
My eyes widened in surprise when I realized that I actually recognized the place; the small square room, whose walls were adorned with my mother's college paintings, the small fireplace (unlit now as it was nearing summer, although in some of the photographs, it had been ablaze), the small table covered in small figurines and knickknacks that had seemed to disappear little by little-- one by one directly following Jacqueline's entrance-- intrusion into the lives of my father and me. I stared at them, amazed almost; my mouth agape. I had almost forgotten about Jacqueline's presence when the cat suddenly jumped from off of my mother's arms, and on top of the table; knocking a few things over in the process; a figurine of a ballerina shattered into nearly a million pieces on the tiled floor; my heart began to race as the cat stared intently at the corner where I was standing-- almost as if it could see me.
"You bad thing," my mother whispered, nonplussed, as she grabbed the thing off of the table; her voice was gentle while scolding, and she began to per her again as she continued to speak, "Let's go and get you something good to drink," and without another word said, she carried her away down the hall, and into a room that was obviously the kitchen.
This time around, I chose not to follow her.
Instead, I chose to stay behind in the living-room, first passing my hand through the small fragments of glass that had once been the figurine, and then staring at some of the photographs that had hung on the walls of my homes when I had been younger; pictures of my father and mother recently married, and pictures of my father's parents, who had since died. I smiled a very bittersweet smile at the familiar faces; lost in memories until my mother's voice interrupted my thoughts, "It's been lonely here ever since James left for Iraq," she was whispering from the kitchen; her voice breaking, "the baby's due in only a couple of months now," her voice drifted away, and my heart started to pound again... I had never known-- but she was whispering once again, and I had to hear the rest, "I miss--" then, a sound broke the silence of the city-- but not just any sound; a scream. I ran into the kitchen to find my mother lying in a pool of her own blood; the cat had gone, "Mom," I murmured, falling to the floor beside her, "WHAT'S HAPPENED?" I suddenly screamed, loosing my head once again, and forgetting that I could not change the past, "HELP!"
"That is quite enough, Beatrice," a voice hissed from behind me.
"Who are you?" I asked, no longer frightened; after all, she would not die-- she could not die-- not for another eleven years at least... I stood, and spun around to find a young boy staring at me with cold gray eyes, "You have seen enough..." he was now whispering, coldly-- and yet so convincingly; I nodded my head, slowly, knowing that he was right; it would be useless to stay there, but nonetheless, I was uneasy...
"But who are you?" I repeated, but he shook my frantic question away, and went on, "We must leave this place..."
"Mom..." I murmured, feebly; surprised by his altogether bluntness, "I cannot just leave her like this," I insisted, gesturing towards her, as she continued to twitch and moan.
"She will be saved..." he whispered, "We must leave, or all will be lost..."
"But who are you...?" I asked, unsure if I could give my trust to the boy.
He hesitated for just a moment, "A friend..." he answered after a moment of uneasy silence, broken by the sounds of the police sirens that were approaching the building-- the authorities had been notified. The boy was right. It was time to leave.
"Take me then," I whispered, as we ran out of the door, and down the stairs, "I shall make us a door in the air to travel by," he was whispering, as the tall door instantly appeared right beside us, and he turned the knob. I hesitated at his wake, but he turned to face me once again, "Elaine said not to be afraid, Beatrice," he whispered, and then he leapt inside, and I followed him inside of it; almost instantly wondering why, exactly, Elaine had decided to send him to me-- who was he, and where had he come from...?
If only I would not have trusted him so easily.