Night, Woman, Cat, and Fridge
Dont look at me like that!
Catherine shot a stern glare at her cat, brow arched in the most intimidating way she could muster. As a child, her mother had forbidden that expression: Its too severe, dear, shed say, warily eyeing Catherines thick, almost unbroken eyebrows inherited from her father. Catherine had always wished shed gotten her mothers brows insteadso thin they were more suggestion than brow, never intimidating a soul.
Of course, shed long since tamed her brows into order, and she wasnt exactly young any more. Her cat, Percy, knew all that quite well and refused to react to Catherines fierce look. He perched on the window sill, regarding his mistress with a mixture of wonder and mild scorn, his green, unsettling eyes catching the slant of light fanning from the hall lamp. The kitchen door, left slightly ajar to provide her the illusion of escape, tapped softly in the night breeze, never closing, never quite admitting Catherines retreat to this nightly sanctuaryor her secret yearning to open the fridge.
She shuffled against the wall, sitting on the kitchen floor for over an hour now, hypnotising the fridge with her gaze.
She could recall, down to the very last sausage, everything sitting inside on those shelves shed scrubbed until they sparkled. Shopping for her familys groceries was her task, often the subject of gentle mockery.
Catherine, what on earth are capers for? Who in our house eats these? her husband would snicker, twirling a tiny jar between his fingers, Why did you buy them?
Theyre nice, thats all, shed reply.
Right. Well, youll have to invent something with them, and try not to strain yourself.
And she would invent some odd dishnever having the patience for recipes. Her family would eye the plate warily at first, but end up scraping it clean, clamouring for seconds.
Her entire familyexcept Catherine.
Shed never learned to eat her own cooking. She simply couldnt.
Cooking was her spella whirl of inspiration and contentment, until the moment her creation was finished, beautiful and ready to eat. Then, something terrible happened: a phantom grandmother, whose kin she was not, would descend on the kitchen, muttering and tutting, mouth curling round her sole remaining tooth. Shed vanish, leaving Catherine starving, unable to even look at the dinner shed just made.
Shed soothe herself the only way she knewsomething store-bought and guiltless. Catherines comfort food needed no preparation: slices of ham, a sliver of cheddar, soft rolls, biscuits, and chocolates she sometimes borrowed from her sons stash, certain that childrens snacks must be healthier than adult ones. Shed soothe herself with the thought that she was taking care of her health.
It was not that she was unhealthy.
Catherine was not overweightnot at all. Everything she ate burned in the ceaseless work of motherhood: three children, a husband, a cat, and a homeall requiring her vigilance. And there was her job, which she respected, and occasionally loved, depending on whether it allowed her to focus on what truly mattered: caring for her family.
She hardly ever complained about her health, anyway. Shed absorbed a simple truth in childhood, repeated by her mother:
Itll pass!
That was her mothers magic phrase whenever Catherine mentioned not feeling well.
Catherine, what are you on about? You dont have a temperature! You checked? Fine then! What a clever girl. Go have some tea with raspberry jam and bedyoull be right as rain in the morning!
Catherine believed, deep down, that everything would fix itself if you just waited. So, even as a medical professional who knew better, she ignored her bodys warning signals after her first child. There was no time. It would surely pass, as always.
With the second boy, things were harder. She barely roused herself to her sons cries, but still tried not to complain to her husband. Could she call herself a mother if she couldnt manage her own children?
Christopher, her husband, understood even without explanations.
Love, let me handle him for a while, hed say, gently taking the baby and shooing their eldest from the room. Its a mans job tonight. You get some rest.
Shed fall into a dim, dreamless sleep for hours but wake more exhausted than before, a gnawing guilt burrowing beneath her ribs. What sort of woman was sheno good to anyone?
If shed once stopped to think about where her insecurities truly came from, perhaps shed have seen it for what it was. No woman could grow content under the shadow of youre just not quite right
That was the mantra shed inherited from her mother and grandmother.
Sit up straight, Catherine! Dont slump like a treble clef! her grandmother Violet would sigh, immaculate hands fluttering. Anna, why are you quiet? At this rate, shell have health issues!
I know, Mum! But she never listens. Always in her own world! Look at hershes always eating! Ive even tried scolding her, but it wont take!
Five-year-old Catherine, as light as a kitten, would sit bolt upright, tears splashing into her soup, and would not touch her spoon again for fear of another word.
Her mother and grandmother were rightshe wasnt like everyone else
She only realised why her family worshipped thinness years later, as an awkward, overweight teenager mortified to even attend school. In a forgotten photo album, she found her motherround-faced and clear-eyed, so like herself. A trace of adolescent spots on her cheeks, her waist wider even than Catherines
Why had her mother treated her so, shaming every slice of bread? Surely she remembered how it felt herself.
And then her mother explained:
Just look in the mirror, will you? Whod marry you? I didnt stand a chance until I took myself in hand! Thank your grandmother! I even stopped cooking for your father, just so we all could slim downdiet, the whole family.
Mum, when did Granddad leave Gran?
What sort of question is that? Do you really think it had anything to do with this? Absolutely not. They had irreconcilable differences. Thats how it happens. Like with me and your father!
How can you not understand someone after all those years together?
How long is this going to go on, Catherine? I wont answer. Off you gofind something useful to do!
She knew what was required without further discussionon would go her beat-up trainers and shed trudge to the school playing fields. There, shed settle on her favourite bench under the great linden, thinking in peace until the footballers and noisy boys went home. Only in twilight, when the fields fell silent, would she jog a clumsy few laps, chiding herself for her laziness.
These meditations paid off. Catherine thought deeply, deciding that if she was doomed to never be prettynever to wedshe ought to be valuable, so people would value her for other things. She understood early that people overlook looks when youre needed for something useful. Best if its something only you have, or something in short supply.
Im going to be a doctor, Mum.
And what on earth for? With your abilities, Catherine
Whats wrong with my abilities? I do well at school.
Well fine, do as you like. Doctors a decent profession as any.
Catherine did become a doctor. A very good one. There was little in her life not devoted to study, and she made the best of it.
Her mother watched with a sigh, never interfering much. She had her own troubles; Catherines grandmothers health was failing, so they left her aloneat least for a while.
But not forever.
Shell never find a husband at this rate! All she does is study! Wed better find her someone!
Grandmother Violet, though frail, took matters in hand, and matchmaker Mrs. Bolton entered the scene. No one quite knew where shed found her, but the woman, small, insistent and bustling, sorted things quickly.
Your daughters simply a peach! Brilliant and beautiful, shell have no trouble!
Catherine nearly choked at the praise.
Who, hera beauty? Dont be absurd! Shed lost a bit of weight and her skin cleared up, but problems persisted. Shed made her peace with them, and now blended into the crowd, but beautiful? Never.
Still, a suitor was found.
When Catherine first saw him, she barely kept from laughing. Short, awkward, unsure where to put his hands, he averted his gaze as he sat with the matchmaker and Catherines mother.
But Catherine was well-mannered, not given to hurting others feelings, so she played along. The introductory tea was polite but nothing more; a date was arranged. Catherine was late, waylaid by university, and dashed through town to the café, breathless. She scoured the place but her suitor was nowhere in sight. She was about to leave when the waiter stopped her.
Miss, are you Catherine by any chance? He smiled so openly, she had to return it.
Yes, Catherine.
Hes left a note for you. The young man got quite anxious. Even broke a glass. And then he left. Here you go.
The note said only, Dont look for me.
Catherine snorted. I wasnt going to, anyway.
It felt as though a weight had lifted from her heart. At last she had an argument against her mothers grand plansshed been left at the first hurdle! So much for whats proper! Anyway, did she really need a husband who would sulk over a few minutes wait? For life? Certainly not.
The waiter, clearly having read between the lines, frowned, then grinned.
So, Misswhat are you doing tonight?
Not quite sure why, Catherine scrunched the note, regarded the waiter and asked, Whats your name?
Christopher.
Are you just taking pity on me?
No Why would you think that? The smile faded, and he grew solemn.
Because well. She studied his face, searching, as if she feared she’d again be, not quite right. Ill be at the entrance by the medical school park tonight. Will you?
I know it! Thank you! Christophers smile lit up his face, and Catherine, despite herself, believed he meant itno pity there.
Shed never forget that first date, not even after the years. She could recite every word, every glance exchanged in that autumn evenings gold. With him, conversation was as easy as breath: they both loved jazz, both loathed cottage cheese, dreamed of a cat, and never wanted a dogno time for proper walks, after all. Both wanted to build a home and a life on substance, not just money. They fit together as if fate had finally tired of their wandering and joined them at last.
Catherine and Christopher dated more than a year.
Her mother was beside herself.
Hes no match for you!
Why, Mum?
Becausehes a waiter!
Hes studying; he just works at the café for extra. And whats wrong with that?
Hes got a sick mother and a five-year-old sister to look after. Why burden yourself?
Perhaps thats a sign hes a good man. He takes care of his own; youd want that for me.
Catherine! Show a bit of self-respect!
Believe me, Mum, Im doing all I can to respect myself. Wasnt it you who said I should get married? Christophers proposed. What more do you want?
Nothing. I just want you to think of yourself for once.
I am.
The wedding was postponed, though.
Catherine I dont know how Ill manage if Mum doesnt pull through
What do you mean? Well bring up your sister, Rosie, together.
Do you think I can?
What choice do we have?
Catherine helped care for Christophers mother, but the weeks wore on, and at last, the end drew near. Without fuss or permission, Catherine and Christopher registered their marriage at the town hall, with only little Rosie as their witness.
Are you a family now? Rosie asked, serious as a judge.
Yes.
And me?
Youre our family too.
Good. Her matter-of-fact tone made Catherine realise this child understood more than either adult suspected.
Christophers mother, Catherines new mother-in-law, approvedthough her gratitude was sobering.
Thank you, my dear. For Rosie, for Christopher Forgive me for leaving such a burden. I wish I could stay longer
Youre thinking the wrong way, Catherine soothed, cradling the frail, pale hands. Will we try getting betteror find comfort in self-pity?
For that too, thank you, Catherine. You know everything, yet you still bring hope Well try, well try
She passed away a month after the wedding. Catherine arranged the funeral and did all she could to comfort Rosie.
Is Mum hurting any more? the little girl burrowed close for solace.
No, darling. Shell never hurt again.
No more injections for her?
No, not ever again
Catherine could have wept herself, holding that child, for the woman who had, in so brief a time, become as dear as her own mother. She mourned the time theyd been denied.
Her own mother, hearing the news after, was deeply hurt.
What about the wedding? Is this what I raised you for? Not a word, not a hint, not even a party!
You know there wasnt time, Mum.
I dont want excuses! My only daughter marries behind my back! Thats what I know!
Catherine, knowing herself to blame, tried to explain but in vain. She resolved to give her mother timeto let the silence heal.
But that silence dragged on, into years.
Of course she still visited her mother, helped as needed, ran all the necessary chores, but conversation was formal, guarded. Though she tried to patch things up, nothing quite worked.
At last, Catherine broke.
Mum, do you have any other children?
What kind of question is that? Of course not!
Then why are you so determined to lose me as well? Catherine set aside the blood pressure cuff. I never asked before, but I need to knowwhy dont you love me?
Her mothers reaction stunned Catherine. Usually so composed, Anna suddenly began to break down, tears streaming.
Mum! Dont cry, please!” Catherine darted about for the first aid kit, cursing her own outburst. Wheres your valerian?
For the first time, Anna revealed her deeper feelings to her daughter.
Of course I love you, Catherine. I do. I just I was never taught to show it. Mum always said not to spoil children. You have to treat them as adults, tell them the truth, no sugar-coating. Otherwise, how will they cope with the worlds harshness? She was adamantI couldnt be a doting hen, hanging over you every moment. I learned to keep back. I see now, you became who you are despite us. You never listenedmaybe Im glad for that now. But it pains me how far youve gone from me. Sometimes I feel I could shout and youd never hear. It scares me
Catherine comforted her as best she could, but those words haunted her. She dreaded making the same mistakes with her own children. And though Rosie, along with her boys, always came to her first with their worries, leaning on her and trusting her, she still wondered if she gave them enoughif she ever could.
Christopher saw that Catherine was troubled and tried to talk things through, but she felt this was hers to solvea journey she must make alone.
So, on nights like these, shed sit in the hush by the fridge, comforted by Percys presence and the white bulk of chilly promise, safe from the worlds demands. Shed sort through her pasther mother, her grandmotherseeking answers that never came aloud.
If only shed spoken her heart soonerperhaps everything would be different. Perhaps being a little less good would have granted her the strength to believe in herself
This comforted her, yet left an ache for all the years lost before realisation finally arrived.
The kitchen door creaked; Christopher entered, not glancing at wife or cat, and opened the fridge. He pulled out cheese, tomatoes, greensthen, settling beside her, silently embraced her and handed her a sandwich.
Have a bite.
“Chris, Ill never fit in any of my skirts if I keep eating at midnight.”
Go on! I insist. He took a bite to show her, winking at Percy. Do you want some?
Percy was more than happy, accepting a slice of cheese before curling up in Catherines lap.
I love you all the same, Christopher smiled, watching her eat. Even if you weighed a tonne, Id still love youand you know it. Catherine, are you all right?
Catherine finished her sandwich, breathing into the familiar hollow of her husbands neck, Percy purring beneath her hand.
I am she finally exhaled, believing it herself. But dont let me get to a tonne, Chris. A size sixteen will do me fine.
You look gorgeous. Never seen a prettier woman.
Tell me that more often, will you?
Will you stop sneaking to the fridge at night if I do?
Christopher!
Just saying! Now, come to bed!
Gratefully, Catherine took his hand as he helped her to her feet. She hugged him close, silently thanking him for understanding even when she couldn’t explain. She promised herself shed tell him all that worried her soon.
Catherine?
Hmm?
Are we expecting another little one?
How did you know? She looked up in surprise.
Oh, woman, I know you! These midnight feasts, the rest How far along?
Three weeks.
Yes! He threw his arms around her, and she covered his mouth playfully with her hand.
Shh! Youll wake the children!
Percy padded after them to the bedroom door, then returned to the window sill, curling up once more to listen to the silence.
Soon enough, that silence would rarely visit the kitchen at night. Catherine would have new worries, and Percy would leave the kitchen too, drawn by the soft warmth of a nursery filled with milk and lullabies. And though hed sometimes miss their midnight kitchen vigils, hed happily trade them to nestle beside the cradle of the smallest member of the family, letting the silence slip away into the gentle noise of love.
