Cat (2 page)

Doctor Marlowe was at her desk when we all marched into her office. She quickly finished whatever she was doing and joined us.

"Good morning, girls," she sang with that happy smile of welcome. "I didn't know anyone had arrived yet. Did you all come at the same time?"

"Where's Emma this morning?" Star asked, instead of answering her question. "She usually sets off the alarm when we appear."

Doctor Marlowe laughed. I admired her ability to never lose control, never get upset or angry at anything any of us said, especially Star, who never seemed to be tired of testing her. Of course, after having heard her story, I understood why Star was so angry all the time. And then I wondered if that wasn't really the way I should act, too.

"My sister had an early dental appointment. Everyone comfortable where you have been sitting?" she asked, glancing quickly at me. Now that I was actually here, she looked almost as nervous as I felt.

Doctor Marlowe's smile flickered like a flashlight with weakened batteries and then
disappeared.

This morning she wore turquoise earrings and had a bit more of a wave in her dirty blond hair. It was trimmed neatly at her ears. As usual, she wore a skirt suit with a white silk blouse with pearl buttons closed at her throat.

The first time my mother had met her, she had seemed relieved that our therapist wasn't particularly pretty. For reasons I didn't quite understand, Mother was always suspicious of attractive women or else intimidated by them. There wasn't a movie star or a model with whom she didn't find fault. They were either obsessed with being too thin or conceited and had distorting priorities. Mother was proud of the fact that she rarely, if ever, looked in the mirror more than once or twice a day. She thought the world would be better without them and if she caught me gazing at myself, she would ask, "Why are you looking at yourself so much? If something's wrong, I'll tell you:'

I didn't think I looked in the mirror any more than or even as much as girls my age did, but I couldn't help being self-critical and comparing myself to other girls and women I met. Doctor Marlowe's nose was a bit too long and her lips too thin, but she did have a figure I coveted. I would even like to be as tall. I always felt short and dumpy because of my own figure and height. Doctor Marlowe was at least six feet one and I was barely five feet four, and with my figure, that made me feel almost comical, distorted, despite the nice things Daddy used to say. He was practically the only one who tried to make me feel good about myself.

Was Mother right? Were those really all lies? And if they were, weren't there some lies we needed?
"Well, let's get started," Doctor Marlowe declared with a small clap. She nodded and sat and motioned for us to do the same.
There was a deep and long moment of silence, the kind that makes my heart stop and then pound. I could feel everyone's eyes on me. I actually began to tremble again, my thighs shaking. I embraced myself like someone who was afraid she would just fly apart.
"How are you all today?" Doctor Marlowe asked. "Ginger peachy," Star said.
"Good," Misty said with a nice smile.
"I'd like to have slept in longer," Jade said. "It's supposed to be our summer holiday."
Doctor Marlowe laughed and gazed my way, her eyes soft, warm, compassionate.
Even so, a ribbon of pain stretched across my forehead from temple to temple, tightening and tightening until it felt like it was cutting through my brain.
"I think I woke up with a fever this morning," I said. "I had chills. I still have them a bit," I added and embraced myself. I rocked a little in my seat.
"Take it easy, Cathy," Doctor Marlowe said in a soft whisper. "Take deep breaths like you've done before:' I did so while the others continued to stare at me.
"I'm sorry," I whispered.
"Before I started to talk to all of you about my story, I felt like throwing up," Misty said in support.
"I did throw up this morning," I confessed.
Star frowned and shook her head.
"It's only us, Cat, not the whole country. You aren't on television on Oprah or something"
"Give her a chance," Jade ordered.
Star tilted her head a little and looked at Jade from an angle.
"Do you have some words of wisdom, Princess Jade?" "I'm just saying it wasn't easy for any of us."
"I'm not saying it was," Star argued. "But whatever her story is, it can't be worse than any of ours, can it?" Jade shrugged.
"I still haven't recovered from telling my own story," she said, as if we were all in a contest to outdo each other for misery.
The other two nodded in agreement.
"No one's going to laugh or anything," Misty promised with those sweet eyes.
All right, I thought. All right. They want to hear it. I'll tell them. I'll tell them everything Then they'll be sorry. We'll all be sorry.
"My situation is a lot different from yours, and yours, and yours," I told each of them.
"How so?" Star fired back.
"For one thing, I'm adopted," I replied and quickly added, "but I didn't learn that until this year."
"Your parents kept that a secret all this time?" Misty immediately asked.
One thing about these girls,
I
thought, they weren't going to be bashful about asking questions. It wasn't going to be easy hiding anything from them.
"Yes."
"Weren't there any baby pictures of you?" Jade asked.
"No. Well, not before I was two."
"Didn't you ever wonder about that? Everyone has pictures of their children when they were infants."
"No. I mean, I've wondered, but I didn't ask any questions about it."
"Why not?" Star demanded.
"I just didn't. It never occurred to me that I could be adopted. I look a little like my mother. We sort of have the same nose and mouth."
"Still, you could have asked about the pictures. What kind of parents wouldn't have pictures," Jade pursued.
"I don't like asking my mother questions," I admitted. "She doesn't like me to. She grew up believing children should be seen and not heard and that's how she wants me to be."
"You're not a child," Jade said.
"Hardly," Star added with a laugh. "One look at her will tell you that."
"I'm not just talking about her bosom," Jade snapped. "Some girls physically mature faster, but that doesn't make them grown-ups."
"I
was
mature very early," I admitted. Maybe I wanted to stop their bickering or maybe I just wanted to get my story out.
"How early?" Misty asked leaning toward me. "I mean, I'm still waiting."
Star and Jade laughed. Doctor Marlowe held her lips still, but her eyes filled with a twinkle of amusement.
"I was still in the fourth grade when . . . when I started to develop."
"Fourth grade?" Star whistled. "You were wearing a bra in the fourth grade?"
"Not exactly. My mother didn't take me to buy a bra until I was in the sixth grade," I said.
"Well, what did you wear before then?" Star asked. "She made me wear a sports bra, a size or so too small so it flattened me somewhat. It was made out of spandex and it felt like a straitjacket. It was really more for exercise, but she made me wear it all day. When I took it off at night, my chest was always sunburn red. I complained, but she said I had to do it because a bra for a girl my age would only emphasize my freakish appearance."
"Is that what she called it?" Jade said with a scowl. "Freakish?"
I nodded.
"I'd like to get a little more freakish myself then," Misty said. "I guess I'm going to end up having implants when I'm in my twenties."
"You shouldn't put so much emphasis on it just because men do," Jade said with fire in her eyes.
Misty gave her one of her small shrugs and turned back to me.
"What did your father say about it?" she asked.
"He didn't say anything to my mother right away. At least, not in front of me," I added. "My mother has always been more in charge when it came to matters concerning me, matters my father called 'girl stuff.' My father was always very busy. He's a stockbroker and he was out of the house early in the morning, except for weekends, of course."
"What's he look like?" Jade asked. "I mean, does he look like he could really be your father? Any resemblances?"
"I guess not. He's tall, six feet three and he's always been thin, no matter how much he ate or drank. He has very long hands. They're almost twice the size of mine, maybe three times, and his fingers . . ."
"What?" Misty asked.
I laughed.
"He used to play this game with me, itsy-bitsy spider."
"Huh?" Misty said.
"Don't you know it? You put the tips of your fingers together and you go, 'The itsy-bitsy spider crawled up the water spout. Down came the rain and washed the spider out. Out came the sun and dried up all the rain. And the itsy-bitsy spider crawled up the spout again,' " I recited and demonstrated,
remembering. I guess I had a silly smile on my face. They all looked like they were going to break into hysterics at any moment.
"He used to do it with his fingers just like I showed you and then he would do it with his fingers on mine and he would crawl up and down my chest.
"I grew up thinking his fingers were really very much like spider legs, especially when he puts his hand on the table," I said remembering the image. "They look like two big spiders?'
The three girls fixed their eyes on me and waited as pictures replaced pictures in my memory. I had my fingers on my chest and had turned them downward without even realizing what I was doing. My eyes closed and then snapped open and I felt myself return to the present.
"One of his fingers, the right forefinger, has a birthmark at the tip, a big, red blotch. It looks like he might have touched a hot stove or something. People who meet him for the first time sometimes ask if he had injured it and he shakes his head and holds it up like some sort of prize and explains it's just a birthmark.
"The palms of his hands are puffy and the lines are deep. In fact, he has a line so deep at the base of his left palm, it looks like he sliced it. He keeps his nails very trim. He gets manicures somewhere near his office once a week," I said. "He takes better care of his fingernails than my mother does of hers. I never saw her put nail polish on them. She's never had a manicure. Once, when I went over to a girlfriend's house and came home with my nails polished, she made me dip them in turpentine I had to hold it in so long, it burned the skin on my fingers."
"Didn't she ever hear of nail polish remover?" Jade asked dryly. "My mother could get her a lifetime supply at cost."
"She's heard of it, but she doesn't own any. No nail polish, no need for nail polish remover," I said. I thought for a moment. "My father's nails shine. They're like ivory."
"How come you talk so much about your father's hands?" Misty asked with a wide smile.
I stared at her for a moment and then looked at Doctor Marlowe, whose eyes were narrowed and intense. How did we get into this so quickly? I wondered. Their questions had come at me like bullets. Maybe that was good. Maybe that was the best way, I thought.
I tried to swallow, but couldn't, and then I took a deep breath and felt like my father was squeezing my ribs and holding my lungs from expanding so I would keep all the secrets imprisoned in my heart. I took another deep breath to stop that all too familiar paralyzing numbness from gripping me.
"Drink some water," Doctor Marlowe ordered, jumping up and handing me a glass.
The girls all looked more frightened than surprised at my sudden reaction. They glanced at each other and then at the door as if they were considering running out of the room. They all looked sorry they had dragged me into my past so quickly. I laughed to myself.
You want to know why I think of my father's hands so much? Okay, I thought. You challenged me to tell you it all. Now you'll sit and listen even if it means you'll have nightmares too.
"Even though he worked very hard and spent a lot of time away from the house, at his firm or visiting with big clients, my father was the one who played with me. All the toys I had, I had because my father bought them. I can't remember my mother buying me any toys, not even a doll."
I shook my head and looked down.
"What?" Misty asked
"I remember when he bought me a Barbie doll and my mother saw how it had breasts. She was so upset about it that she took the doll and smashed it to pieces with her rolling pin in the kitchen.
"'This is disgusting!' she cried. 'How can they make toys like this for children and how can you buy something like this for her?' she demanded of my father.
"My father shrugged and said the doll was the most popular toy in the store for girls. He said the stock in the company was a good one, too.
"I knew he was right, of course. Barbie dolls were very popular and I always wanted one and all the clothes, too. I had to settle for a rag doll my father brought home the next day. My mother inspected it closely and stamped her seal of approval on it when she saw there wasn't the slightest sexual thing about it. Despite the stringy hair, it didn't even look feminine I ended up naming it Bones."
"Why didn't your father just tell her to stuff it?" Star asked.
"My father is a very quiet man. He doesn't raise his voice very often," I said.
"But he was just trying to let you be a normal girl. Your mother is a little extreme, don't you think?" Jade pursued.
"Why is your mother so bossy?" Misty asked.
Suddenly my heart started pounding and the blood rose to my face. I looked down when I spoke. It was almost as if I could see my life, my past and all the events being projected on the floor, the pictures flowing along in a continuous stream.
"My father's not a coward, even though I can't remember too many times when he and my mother shouted at each other," I said finally.
"That's practically all I
can
remember," Jade said. "It's her day," Star said. "We already heard about you once and once is plenty."
"Is that so?" Jade countered.
"Yeah, it's so," Star said.
Jade stared darts back at her.
"Girls," Doctor Marlowe said softly, shaking her head. They both turned to me.
"That's not to say my mother didn't criticize my father," I continued. "I don't think a day went by when she didn't have some complaint about his drinking after work, the friends he had, the things she had asked him to do and he had forgotten or neglected. It was just that he would rarely . . . rarely challenge her. I used to believe that early in their marriage, my father decided the best thing for him to do was listen, nod, agree, accept and move on.
"Funny," I said smiling and still looking down, "but once I thought that he was wiser because of that. I had great respect for my father. He was a success in business and he seemed so well organized, contented, in control, I suppose is the word. He had an informed opinion about everything. Whenever he was
challenged, he could explain his reasons and ideas. He was very good at convincing people. I guess that came from his being a stockbroker and having to sell hope.
"Dinner at our house was always educational. My father would comment about something that had happened in the government or in the economy, and most of the time, my mother and I would just listen. I mean, I would listen. When I looked at her, she seemed distracted, lost in her own thoughts. Yet, always at the end, she would say something like, 'Well, what do you expect, Howard? If you leave the barn doors open, the cows will get out."
"Huh?" Misty said. "What do cows have to do with it?"
I looked at her and smiled.
"My mother is full of old expressions like that. She has one for every occasion, every event."
"My granny has good expressions too," Star said.
"We already heard," Jade sang and threw her nauseatingly sweet smile at her. "It's Cat's day today, remember?" she said, enjoying her sweet taste of revenge.
Star smirked and then shook her head and laughed.
I was jealous of them. Already, I was jealous, I thought. They were at each other all the time, but I could see they also respected and in a funny way liked each other and liked to challenge and tease each other. I wanted them to like me too. Who else would like me but these girls? I worried. I could count on the fingers of one hand the friends I had had and lately, I had none. I felt like a leper because I saw the way some of the other kids looked at me in school.
It's my own fault, I thought. My face might as well be made of glass and all my thoughts and memories printed on a screen inside my head that anyone could see and read.
"I feel dirty," I muttered.
"What?" Misty asked. "Why?"
I looked up, not realizing I had spoken. It had just come out like a burp. My heart began to pound again. I glanced quickly, fearfully at Doctor Marlowe. She gave me her best calming expression.
"Did you say you feel dirty?" Misty asked.
"Let Cathy go at her own pace, Misty," Doctor Marlowe cautioned.
"She said it."
"I know. It takes time," Doctor Marlowe insisted, closing and opening her eyes softly. "You know that. All of you do," she added.
Misty relaxed and sat back.
After a few deep breaths, I went on.
"I guess I always felt people were looking at me all the time," I said.