Night, Woman, Cat, and Fridge
Dont look at me like that!
Catherine glared as fiercely as she could at the cat. She even raised her eyebrow a trick her mother had always forbidden when she was a child. Back then, Catherine Alexanders thick, almost-joined eyebrows could terrify small children and even the bravest teachers. Catherines father had given her those brows, and she always wished they took after her mothers thin and perfectly plucked, hardly menacing at all.
Of course, by now Catherine had long since tamed her eyebrows, and she was no longer a young girl. The cat was well aware of all this, which is why he refused to be cowed by her stern look. He perched on the window ledge, staring back at Catherine with a look mingling astonishment and faint contempt, occasionally catching the greenish, mysterious glow from the hallway light whenever it drifted into the kitchen. The door, which Catherine had left slightly open to provide the comforting illusion of retreat, clattered in the night draft but stubbornly refused to close completely. This irritated Catherine she wanted it to shut once and for all, giving her the full right to open another door instead. The fridge.
Shuffling on the floor by the wall where shed been sitting for over an hour, Catherine settled herself and once again fixed her gaze on the fridge as if she could hypnotise it.
She knew exactly what was inside down to the last sausage because Catherine was in charge of shopping and stocking the fridge for her family. The running joke was that she could recite an inventory from memory.
Catherine, why on earth do we need capers? Who in our house eats capers? her husband Richard would tease, twirling a small jar. Why did you buy them?
Theyre nice, thats why.
Right well, youll have to figure out how to use them up.
And Catherine would. Shed dream up a slightly strange dish because she never could stick to a recipe. The resulting meal would be eyed with suspicion by her family, but then wolfed down so fast people would demand seconds.
The whole family, that is. Except Catherine.
She couldnt eat anything she cooked. Simply couldnt. Preparing food brought her inspiration and joy, but as soon as her creation was finished, something dreadful happened. Some phantom grandmother certainly not her own would appear in spirit, mumble nonsense, tut through her only remaining tooth, and leave Catherine utterly famished, unable to look at her own dish.
To comfort herself, Catherine nibbled little things that needed no effort: a sausage here, a slice of nice cheese, buns, biscuits, sometimes nicked from her youngest sons stash. She told herself childrens biscuits were surely healthier and her conscience didnt trouble her much. Catherine managed to convince herself that she was simply looking after her health.
And she really did need to. Not that she was overweight. Not in the least. Every calorie was burned up by the endless energy of a house with three children, a husband, a cat, and a home. And all needed her constant attention. Plus, there was work which, depending on the day, she respected or even loved, mainly because it allowed her to better care for those she loved most.
Complaining was foreign to her. From childhood, shed internalised her mothers simple motto:
Itll pass!
That, exactly, was what Mrs Alexander used to say when Catherine complained of not feeling well.
Cathy, what are you on about? Youre not ill. Temperature? Oh, you checked Well done, darling! Have a hot cup of tea and get to bed. Itll pass on its own!
That magic phrase followed Catherine through her entire childhood, and she truly believed that everything would fix itself eventually, no special effort required.
Perhaps thats why, even though she understood her mothers methods were nonsense, she shrugged off warning signs in her own health after her first child was born. Oh well, itll sort itself out. Theres no time to worry!
It became harder with her second son. Waking up to his desperate cries took all her strength, but she still tried not to complain to Richard. What sort of mother was she if she couldnt look after her own child?
Richard understood without words.
Cathy, let me take him, hed gently say, lifting the boy from her arms. Ill manage. You go and sleep. Thats what you need.
Catherine would fall into oblivion, sleeping for hours, only to wake up even more exhausted and guilty than before.
What kind of woman was she if she was so utterly useless?
Had Catherine ever stopped to consider where her insecurity began, things might have become clearer. Its difficult to be content if your lifes motto is youre just not quite right.
Thats the legacy her mother and grandmother had given her.
Sit up straight, Cathy! Why do you slouch like a treble clef? Back straight, darling! Anne, why are you silent? If she keeps sitting like that, shell have problems later! her grandmother, Lydia, would sigh, wringing her elegant hands.
Mum, she never listens! All the other children are so good, and Cathy she just does her own thing! Look at her! I have to hide food away from her, shes always eating! And punishments dont work, would you believe?
Little Cathy, weighing no more than a kitten, would straighten up, let her tears drip silently into her plate, and barely breathe.
Her mother and grandmother were always right. She was justwrong.
Only much later, as a slightly overweight, spotty, self-conscious teenager, did Cathy discover old family photo albums. Her mother looked back from those pictures plump, clear-eyed, with spots around her chin, almost identical to Cathy herself. Sometimes, Cathy even thought her own waist was slimmer than her teenage mothers.
Why, then? Why was every mouthful scrutinised, every look full of reproach?
Eventually, she found out:
Dont you see? Just look in the mirror! Who will marry you?! I nearly lost hope myself, until I pulled myself together. I didnt even cook for your father, just so he wouldnt be tempted. We were all on diets.
Mum, when did Granddad leave Grandma?
What sort of question is that? Do you really think its related? Of course not! My parents had their differences, thats all. People dont always understand each other.
But, Mum, how can you not understand someone after years together?
Oh, Cathy, enough with your questions! Go and do something useful!
Doing something useful was clear enough. Cathy donned her old trainers and went out to the school field. She never ran while the boys were around, but when dusk fell and the field was empty, shed jog, scolding herself for her laziness.
These quiet runs gave her plenty of thinking space. If she wasnt going to be pretty or get married, she decided, she might as well make herself useful. People, she reasoned, value those who have something special. Appearance is irrelevant if you have what others need.
Mum, I want to be a doctor.
Why that? Cathy, with your lets say skills
Whats wrong with my skills? I do well at school.
I suppose Well, its a respectable career. Why not?
Cathy, hiding her delight, persisted and became a very good doctor indeed. With little in the way of a personal life, she had time to study hard.
Her mother, sighing heavily, didnt interfere much she had enough to worry about with Granny Lydias failing health. So, for a while, Cathy was left alone.
But not for long.
Shell never find a husband on her own! All she does is study! We must do something about it.
Granny, despite being frail, brought in a matchmaker. Where she found her, who knows but the lively, talkative lady did her job quickly.
Your daughters a real peach. Clever and beautiful. Men will be falling over themselves!
Cathys jaw dropped. Beautiful? Her? The weight had shifted, the spots receded, she knew her way around makeup, but beautiful she was not.
Soon enough, Cathy met the chosen suitor. She barely suppressed a laugh short, awkward, all gangly limbs, his gaze fixed anywhere but on her.
Still, she was polite, appreciating her relatives efforts. The initial meeting was painless enough, and the first proper date arranged.
She arrived late stuck at university and dashed into the café. Her appointed suitor was nowhere to be seen, but she was handed a note by the friendly waiter:
Dont look for me.
She snorted, half amused, half relieved.
Well, I wasnt going to.
As if a weight had fallen from her shoulders here at last was an escape clause against her mothers endless matchmaking. Shed been jilted! At the first opportunity! Wasnt it a time-honoured rule that a woman should keep a man waiting a little? If he couldnt handle that, what use was he anyway?
The waiter, named Richard, had read the note. He frowned sympathetically, then brightened.
What are you doing this evening, Cathy?
To her own surprise, Cathy smiled and agreed to meet him later. Whats your name? she asked.
Richard.
Richard, are you just being nice because you feel sorry for me?
Not at all, Richard replied, his face serious. If youre free this evening, meet me by the entrance to the park near the medical school.
I know it. See you.
Their first date was unforgettable. They discovered a shared love of jazz, equal disdain for cottage cheese, a longing for a cat, and unanimous agreement that dogs simply demanded too much attention for their busy lives. They both hoped to do something meaningful, not just work for money. In short, it was as if fate had decided enough wandering these two belonged together.
Cathy and Richard dated for more than a year. Her mother was horrified.
Hes not right for you!
Why, Mum?
Hes well, hes just a waiter!
You know Richards studying, and the cafés a job, not the end goal. Whats wrong with waiting tables, anyway?
Hes got a sick mother and a five-year-old sister to look after. Why would you take that on?
Maybe that just makes him a good person, Mum. He looks after his family, so hell look after me too.
Wedding plans were postponed as Richards mother grew sicker. Cathy helped as much as she could, but nothing changed the course of time. When it was clear the end was near, Cathy and Richard quietly registered their marriage, with little Susie as their only witness.
So were family now? Susie asked, listening carefully to the registrar.
Thats right.
And Im in the family?
Youre our family too.
Good.
Her words held such thought and gravity that Cathy realised that this little girl understood much more than theyd guessed.
Richards mother was grateful.
Thank you, darling. For Susie, for Richard Im sorry youll have to bear such a burden, but I wish you could be with us for many more years
Dont worry about that, Cathy would reply, holding her mother-in-laws frail hand, weve plenty of time to get better. Or at least, we ought to try.
A month after their wedding, Richards mother passed away. Cathy saw her through the end, consoled Susie, and when she asked, Mums not hurting any more? Cathy hugged her.
No, Susie. She wont cry again. She doesnt need any more injections either. Its all gone. Cathy herself wanted to weep, for Richards mother had quickly become dear to her, and their time together had been far too short.
Cathys own mother was furious to learn her daughter had married without telling her.
No wedding? Is this why I raised you? To be left out no celebration, not even a word?
Mum, you know why. It just wasnt the right time.
I dont want to hear your excuses. My only daughter has got married and kept it from me, and thats that.
Guilt ate at Cathy, but all attempts to explain herself came to nothing. The frost lasted for years. Of course, Cathy still went to help out at her mothers house, tending to all her needs, but everything was awkward, as if strangers were performing a formal transaction.
Finally, Cathy snapped.
Mum, do you have any other children?
What a silly question. Of course not.
So why do you seem so keen on losing me too?
Cathy, putting aside her stethoscope after taking her mothers blood pressure, waited. Shed never asked, but wanted to know why had her mother never really seemed to love her?
Her mother, always so composed, suddenly wept.
I do love you, Cathy. Of course I do. I just never learned how to show it. My mum always said children shouldnt be spoiled. You treat them like adults, talk straight. Otherwise, real life will wreck them. She said not to fuss, not to be a silly hen clucking around a single chick. So I learned that. And now it looks like I lost more than I ever gained. You grew up without really needing me. Maybe thats for the best. But it makes me sad, thinking if I called for you, you wouldnt hear. That frightens me.
Cathy did her best to comfort her mother, but couldnt shake the feeling that she too might fail her own children. She was constantly worried she wasnt giving Susie and her sons enough love but how much was enough, anyway?
Richard, seeing the worry gnaw at his wife, tried to reach out. But Cathy always thought this was her burden to work out alone.
And so, on certain nights, Cathy found herself sitting for hours in the kitchen, in her nightdress, keeping company with the cat and the white, humming fridge. Here, somehow, her thoughts became clearer. The comfort of the looming fridge, full of delicious, off-limits things, always made her ponder everything that had shaped her.
If only shed spoken honestly with her mother years ago, maybe things would have turned out differently. The good girl could have been a little less good in others eyes, but a lot more confident in her own.
The door creaked, and Richard strolled in, ignoring both her and the cat. He opened the fridge, took out cheese, tomatoes, and salad, and, settling down next to her, passed her a sandwich.
Eat.
Richard, if I keep eating at night, I wont fit into any of my skirts.
Eat, I said! Richard took a bite in demonstration and winked at the cat. Fancy some?
The cat didnt protest, leapt down, accepted his piece of cheese and curled up purring on Catherines lap.
I love you anyway Richard smiled as Cathy ate. Even if you weighed a ton, I wouldnt care. You know it. Will you tell me whats wrong?
Cathy finished her sandwich, nestled into her husbands shoulder and stroked the cat.
Its all right, Richard, she sighed finally, and for once, she believed herself. But lets not get to a ton. Size sixteen for a woman my age is good enough for me.
Size sixteen is perfect. Ive never seen a more beautiful woman.
Remind me of that, often?
If you promise to stop sneaking off to the kitchen at night.
Richard!
What did I say? Now, come on, off to bed with you!
With a smile, Cathy took her husbands hand as he helped her up. She hugged him, silently thankful he understood, even with no explanations. And she promised herself shed eventually tell him everything that had been weighing on her.
Cathy?
Mmm?
Are we expecting?
How did you work it out? Cathy looked at him in surprise.
Oh, woman, I know you by now. All these midnight feasts. How long?
Three weeks.
Hooray! Richard hugged his wife tight; she playfully tapped his lips.
Ssshh, youll wake the kids!
The cat saw them to the bedroom door, then slunk back to the kitchen, hopped back up to his spot and listened to the peaceful silence.
Soon enough, the kitchen would be quiet at night. Cathy would have new things to keep her busy and the cat would abandon the fridge for the nursery, where it was far cosier to nap beside a new baby than on a cold window ledge.
