Mr. Mouser didn’t like the cat-tail accessory at all. The feline felt jealous and attacked it immediately. Jumping on the bed, it started to thrash as it fought with the inanimate object, hissing, yowling, and throwing Cat’s new toys all over the bedroom.
“Mr. Mouser, stop it!” She shouted and stood up.
The cat paid her no heed. He kept his relentless assault on the perceived threat, intending to protect her mommy at all costs. More boxes fell on the ground, clattering. One of the devices turned on and started to buzz inside the box, making it skitter over the hardwood floor.
“Get a grip on. We need to gather everything--”
“Catherine, is everything alright in there?” Mrs. Wallenstein asked from the corridor.
“It’s all fine, mom,” she shouted back. The tail flew from the bed and into one of the open cardboard boxes. Mr. Mouser pounced on it and topped the box.
“It doesn’t seem like that? Is Mr. Mouser attacking you again?”
“No, he’s just playing!”
“I’m coming inside.”
“NO!” Cat rushed to block the door, barely blocking it before her mother finished turning the knob. “Don’t come inside.”
“Why not? What is buzzing in there?”
Cat cursed the bloody fake review on that particular product. It stated it was silent and made less than forty decibels but the damn toy could be playing death metal inside that box and nobody would tell the difference. Worse, who would return such a thing? Or even bother putting a negative review under their own name? Sex toy companies could get away with murder, she concluded.
“It’s all fine, mom. It was an alarm I set on my phone.”
“Well, turn it off then! And let me in!”
“No, mom. I’m not decent.”
[Not helping, Catherine. See if that cat of yours can hear you and stop playing in the boxes,] Cat hissed.
The door was pushed against her body, almost sending the distracted waspish girl flying. “Let me in,” the matron demanded.
“Mom, please. Can you wait at least a minute? Let me put something on at least.”
“Why were you naked in there?”
“Must you know?”
“I’m your mother. Let me in, now!” She demanded with an imperious tone.
“Mom, can’t you wait?” Cat sighed. “Look, I was going to play with myself, okay?”
The girl cursed her innate directive, to be honest with her mother. What power did the woman held over Catherine to cement this drive so deeply in her subconscious?
“You WHAT?” The puritan woman summoned her strength and barged into the room, sending her daughter skidding on her butt. Before Cat could recover, her mother was already examining the odd items scattered everywhere. “Sodom and Gomorrah! What vile contraptions are these?”
She picked up the buzzing box. Cat stood up and rubbed her hurting buttocks. The cat was out of the box, both figuratively and literally. The cat-tail plug was ruined and he pawed the pieces to the seven corners of the bedroom.
Cat picked up the cat and looked up to find a fuming Mrs. Wallenstein. She held a silicone life-like… “dowel”, for the lack of a better word, in each hand. “Catherine Wallenstein! What is the purpose of this?”
Cat would’ve smirked and gave a cheeky answer but her body felt afraid of her mother. The memories of more than a dozen beatings surfaced from her, Catherine’s subconscious.
“Answer me, young lady!” The woman shouted. Cat finched. Mr. Mouser hissed and growled. “Control your damn animal!”
She protectively covered him. “Don’t you dare talk about Mr. Mouser like that! He just wants to keep me safe!”
Mrs. Wallenstein started to hyperventilate. “I need a drink,” she sighed. “You sinner of a daughter! I want all of this depraved junk out of my house! I’m confiscating all of them!”
At the time, she didn't even consider why she would confiscate and not just dump them in the bin. Instead, Cat’s mind drifted to the documents on the computer. She could take over the trust fund in three days if she signed the documents today. This woman was bankrupt, deep in debt, and basically leeched Catherine’s money for a decade. Enough was enough.
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“Drop these. I’ll not say it again. I’m an adult, mom. We can decide now what our relationship will be. Business partners, mother, and daughter, roommates, strangers, or even enemies. I’m drawing the line at master and servant. You can give me advice and I’ll appreciate it. I’ll listen to what you have to say. But you don’t own or control me. And even if you control the rest of the house, you’ve barged into my room and took my stuff.”
She raised the body part silicone dowel as if intending to cudgel Cat with it. Cat tried not to flinch. Mr. Mouser hissed again. She patted the feline’s head to calm him down and let things run their course. Mrs. Wallenstein hit her in the face.
“I didn’t raise you to become a whore!” She screamed. “By God’s mercy, I’m going to straighten this shoot of a daughter before it gets too crooked!”
Mr. Mouser struggled and wriggled free, jumping to bite Mrs. Wallenstein’s calf. She kicked the animal but not before he drew blood. Cat tackled her mother.
“Stop it. Just stop. You’re not thinking straight, mom. Please stop. Let’s talk. Please.”
One of the drawbacks of being featherweight was that anyone could move her around. Mrs. Wallenstein had no trouble getting free and standing up.
“I need a drink. You do what you want, you trollop,” she spat. “Fuck yourself until hell sends someone to pick you up. I don’t care.”
That hit so close to home Cat froze with dread. The woman made a beeline for the door. Shaking the fear of the occult, Cat bounced back on her feet and tried to hold her. She knew that if Mrs. Wallenstein got a single shot of alcohol in her system, she’d revert back to that sorry state she was found in her room. The girl managed to stop the woman before she left the room.
“Please don’t leave. I still care, mom. Please, let’s talk this over,” Cat begged while hugging her mother from behind.
Mrs. Wallenstein clawed Cat’s arms. She endured the pain and held true. Cat’s tears soaked her mother’s back. She could only think of one more thing to add.
“I love you, mom. Please stay with me.”
She felt the woman’s resistance vanish. Mrs. Wallenstein sniffled. She might be crying but Cat couldn’t see. “Don’t call me that. You’re not my daughter. Who are you?”
“I AM Catherine, mom. A broken Catherine after what I went through the last year. What’s left of her. Help me pick myself up and mend my pieces. I need you.”
She tapped Cat’s arm. “Let go. I have one request. Prove you’re my daughter.” Pointing at the piano, she concluded, “Play it.”
Cat nodded. “Make yourself comfortable. I’ll try.”
----------------------------------------
Following the ghost’s directions, Cat sat with her back straight and lifted the fallboard. She could feel her mother’s piercing gaze studying her every single move. Catherine guided her movements, numbering her fingers one to ten from left to right and guiding her. She picked a song where the hands' shape didn’t change much, just moved left and right along with which fingers played on each beat.
The first bars of the song came slowly. Cat committed a lot of mistakes but the song was there. She stopped and started again a dozen times. Mr. Mouser came and laid next to her left leg. Once she got the first part right and relaxed, the body’s muscle memory kicked in. She made fewer mistakes and reached the song’s normal tempo. It was still badly played, with stiff fingers banging the keys instead of tapping it according to the need of the song for a softer or harder note.
But she was playing the piano. From “memory” nonetheless. A feeling of accomplishment welled up inside her. She finished the song once and started again, striving to play it better. She could tell her body remembered. Could it be she had a copy of Catherine’s memories locked up somewhere in her brain? Once more she thought she was merging with Catherine, becoming not quite her but someone close to her.
She didn’t lie when she professed her love for the woman that gave birth to her body. Despite a decade of abuse and neglect, Catherine still loved her as well. They were the last of the Wallenstein. They only had each other and both knew that. They did have relatives but those were of the seventh degree or even more removed. They could barely be called kin.
Cat finished the second playthrough and rested her hand on the keys, letting the final chord play until the strings lost all energy. Her body shook and trembled, an unknown emotion overwhelming her. It was so intense it almost hurt. She only knew she was crying because the salty tears found their way into her lips.
“Please, mom. I need you. Would you hug me?”
In a perfect world, Mrs. Wallenstein would envelop the girl with her arms and everything would be fine. Instead, all Cat got was a warm hand on her shoulder.
“Your father loved this song. You used to play it for him. Do you remember?”
She felt inadequate. A doppelganger, a fraud. As she heard, a body-snatcher. She almost regretted taking over Catherine’s body and life but she recalled the screams the ghost uttered at the sight of the disguised demon back at the police central. If Catherine was taken over by such desolation just by seeing the creature, what kind of gruesome torment awaited her in the underworld?
Cat hazily recognized the feeling William’s spirit felt that day on the sidewalk before the celestial entity (or whatever that creature was) and their mangled bodies. He loved Catherine. It was not the love a man feels for a woman, that love mixed with lust and the “breeding directive” and stuff. It wasn’t any of the emotions depicted in C. S. Lewis’ controversial book but something that didn’t belong to the mortal sphere. Although the memory remained, the feeling was muddled by the sensations of the flesh she now inhabited. William had gladly descended back to the mortal realm for her. As Cat, she would endure the pain of Catherine’s life and shelter that tiny and sassy spark living inside her against anything.
“No, mom. I’m sorry I don’t remember it,” She relayed the specter’s words. “But this song always held a deeper meaning for me. Did I pass your test?”
Mr. Mouser jumped on Cat’s lap and stared at the woman, seemingly curious about the answer. Of course, he was just an ordinary and irrational animal.
Silence reigned in the bedroom. Somewhere under the bed, a box still buzzed with a naughty device inside. Cat burst into laughter at the same time her eyes streamed tears.
“I need something to drink,” Was what Mrs. Wallenstein uttered. However, the girl wouldn’t let her victory slip.
“Orange juice. I bet Esmeralda would gladly squeeze some oranges for us,” She said, her eyes stating that in no unclear terms there would be no alcohol. Grinning, she added, “I’m buying.”
Mrs. Wallenstein gritted her teeth. “You almost had me fooled back there. Let’s drink the fruit juice you’re buying. My real daughter would never talk back to me like that.”
Cat picked Mr. Mouser on one arm and her mother’s hand on the other. “You went for almost a year without seeing your daughter, mom. I’ve grown. Dying and healing at the hospital while under police custody did that to me. Welcome to the new Wallenstein reality. This is what you get as your next of kin. No refunds.”
Mrs. Wallenstein looked at the mess and the scattered toys. “Cheeky brat.”
She laughed and involuntarily squeezed the feline in her arm, drawing a yowl of protest. Cat pointed at the boxes. “I bought too many. Feel free to get one or two for yourself. I recommend the purple rabbit vibrator.”
“Wha--” The older woman couldn’t even vocalize as she stood with her mouth open. Cat let go of her hand and snatched two boxes from the ground.
“Here it goes, with a bottle of lube. No takebacks. You deserve some quality time for yourself, mom. There’s nothing wrong with that.”
She fully expected Mrs. Wallenstein to throw her gifts on the ground and stomp out. Instead, she didn’t say a word. Cat locked her room behind them and made a stop at her mother’s room to drop the items before raiding the kitchen for fresh fruit and snacks.
If Mrs. Wallenstein ever used her gifts, she never learned.