Night, Woman, Cat, and Fridge
Dont look at me like that!
Catherine shot her cat a look as stern as she could muster. She even raised an eyebrow, something her mother always forbade her to do. Far too fierce for a young girl, her mother used to say, especially when Catherines expressive brows, so much like her fathers, would meet in a dark arch above her nose. She had always wanted finer, elegant arches like her mothersthin, perfectly plucked slivers that didnt intimidate a soul.
Of course, Catherine had tamed her eyebrows years ago, and she certainly wasnt a child anymore. The cat, fully aware of this, refused to be intimidated. He sat on the windowsill, staring at her with a mixture of astonishment and disdain, his green eyes shining eerily whenever the light from the hallway lamp managed to reach the kitchen. The door, which Catherine had left ajar, rattled lightly now and then with the draftbut never decisively enough to shut out her return to reality. Catherine resented the door for this. She wanted it to slam, once and for all, so shed have a proper excuse to open another doorthe fridge.
Restless, Catherine shifted position on the kitchen floor where shed been for more than an hour, eyes fixed on the fridge in a kind of midnight hypnosis.
She knew precisely what was inside, down to the last sausage on the spotless shelves, washed just that morning. After all, she was in charge of the weekly shoppinga task that often became the butt of family jokes.
Catherine, why on earth did you buy capers? her husband, Matthew, would tease, twirling a tiny jar between his fingers. Are you planning to feed the neighbourhood?
Theyre delicious! Catherine would reply.
All right, then you can think up a way to use them so were not stuck with leftovers.
And so she would. Catherine always came up with a slightly odd dish, never sticking closely to the recipe. At first, her family would eye her latest masterpiece suspiciously, but before long, the plates would be licked clean with requests for seconds.
The whole family, that isexcept for Catherine.
She could never eat what shed made. Literally never.
Cooking delighted her, snatching moments of inspiration and happiness, but as soon as her culinary creation was ready to serve, something dreadful happened. It was as if an imaginary grandmotherone with no real connection to Catherinecame bustling in, mumbling to herself, tutting through her one remaining tooth, and left Catherine completely uninterested in the meal shed just prepared.
This always left Catherine miserable and searching for comfort in snacks not requiring any preparation. Ham with a slice of mature cheddar, pastries, sweets, biscuits, and the childrens animal-shaped digestives (which Catherine sometimes swiped on the sly, convincing herself they must be healthier, it being childrens food and all). That way, her conscience wasnt too troubled. She told herself she was looking after her health.
Not that Catherine was unwell, really.
She wasnt overweightnot at all. Everything she ate was fuel for the never-ending cycle of family life. With three children, a husband, a cat, and a house, there was no shortage of demands on her. And of course, there was work, which Catherine respected and sometimes even enjoyed, depending on whether it left her time and energy to focus on her family.
Catherine wasnt one to complain, either. Shed learned a simple truth from her mother as a child: Itll pass in its own time!
That was the familys approach to every ache or sniffle.
Mum, I dont feel well…
Catherine, stop imagining things! Youve no temperature? Oh, you checked? Clever girl! Have a cup of tea with raspberry jam and go to beditll be gone by morning.
With those magic words, anything was supposed to right itself, and Catherine faithfully absorbed that lesson: health, like most problems, would eventually solve itself.
Perhaps thats why, even as a qualified doctor knowing full well her mothers mantra was nonsense, she didnt pay much mind to her health after the birth of her first child. No time! shed tell herself. Itll clear up soon enough!
Things got harder with her second son. Waking to his cries became a struggle, but she barely confessed to her husband. What kind of mother cant care for her own baby?!
Matthew understood without words.
Catherine, let me handle it, hed say, taking their youngest in his arms and ushering their eldest out of the room. Well be all right for a bit, darling. You need your sleep. Get some rest.
Catherine would sleep for hours, only to wake up more exhausted than ever, guilt gnawing at her for letting Matthew and the boys down.
She wondered what kind of woman she was, always feeling useless.
If Catherine had ever stopped to question the roots of her self-doubt, it all might have made sense. Its hard to be happy if youre raised under the banner of, youre just a bit…wrong.
Her mother and grandmother passed that banner down well enough.
Catherine, sit up straight! Dont curl up like a treble clef! Straighten your back, darling! her grandmother Edith would scold, fluttering her perfectly manicured hands. Anna, say something! The child will end up with all sorts of health problems!
Mum, what do you think Im doing? Its no useshe never listens to a thing I say! All the other children are normal and Catherines always in her own world. She eats constantly! Ive had to start hiding food! Can you believe its come to that?
Five-year-old Catherine, hardly heavier than a kitten, would do as she was told, dropping silent tears into her bowl, and too afraid even to look up.
Her mother and grandmotherof course, they were always right. She wasnt quite enough.
Only as a teenager, gawky and acne-prone, self-conscious to the point that walking into her school each day was a small personal disaster, did Catherine find an old photo album and realise where this obsession with slenderness came from. There was her mother as a young woman, rosy-cheeked, definitely fuller-figured, looking so much like Catherine herself. Same round face, same tell-tale spots. Catherines waist was even slimmer in comparison.
If her mother struggled with the same issues, why scold Catherine over every biscuit? Why always look at her so accusingly?
The answers, when they came, were anything but reassuring.
Cant you see yourself in the mirror? Who would marry you as you are? I never had any luck myself until I finally got in shapeand it was only thanks to Mum! We had everyone on a diet, even your grandfather.
Mum, when did Granddad leave Granny?
What kind of question is that? Dont be ridiculous! That had nothing to do with it. Adults have differences. Sometimes they part ways. Like your father and me.
But how do you stop understanding someone youve lived with for so long?
Catherine! Enough of your nonsense! Go find something to do.
Catherine knew exactly what she was supposed to do without it being said. Shed put on battered trainers and head for the school field. But while the boys played football or swung on the bars, shed sit quietly on her favourite bench under the big old lime tree, thinking about life. Only after everyone left and dusk fell would she jog a few laps, berating herself for being lazy and slow.
All that thinking paid offCatherine finally decided that if she wasn’t going to be pretty and marriage wasnt on the cards, shed have to find something genuinely useful to do, so people wouldnt focus on her appearance. If you had something people needed, nobody cared how you looked.
Mum, I want to be a doctor.
Why on earth? Catherine, are you sure youre up to it?
I do well at school, dont I?
I suppose. Well, its a respectable enough profession.
Exactly, Catherine replied, careful not to show her excitement, lest her mother change her mind.
Catherine stuck to her plan and became a doctora good one. Her personal life so uneventful that she had plenty of energy left for studies and work.
Her mother never outright interfered, though she watched Catherines efforts with a deep, weary sighthere were other things to worry about. Edith, Catherines grandmother, was unwell and needed care, so Catherine was left to her own devices for a while.
But not for long.
Shell never find a husband on her own! All she does is study! Edith soon decided shed take matters into her own hands.
So a matchmaker appeared, out of nowhere. The details of her arrival remained a mystery, but she worked fast.
Your daughter is an absolute gem! Intelligent and lovely. No trouble getting her matched!”
Hearing this, Catherine nearly laughed aloud. Whoher? Pretty?! Yes, shed lost some weight, her skin improved, and shed mastered a bit of makeup. But stillbeautiful was a stretch.
Her first suitor was introduced soon after. Catherine managed not to grimace: short, awkward, a bundle of nervous energy.
Catherine was too well-mannered to show it. She knew what it meant to her mother and grandmother. So she smiled, played along, and a tea was arranged for a more formal introduction. The first date was scheduled at a local café.
She arrived latestuck in classand dashed in, hair flying, only to search in vain for her would-be fiancé. Hed left. A waiter approached her.
Excuse me, are you Catherine? He left this note. Seemed terribly anxious, poor chap. Left in a bit of a state, actually. Here you are.
It read, Dont look for me.
Catherine snorted.
Well, I wasnt going to anyway!
A burden lifted from her shoulders. Now, she finally had a get-out: shed been jilted first. Her mother couldnt make her marry a man whod run off at the first hurdle. Really, what use was a husband who needed constant hand-holding and didnt spark an ounce of affection?
The waiter, having undoubtedly sneaked a glance at the note, pulled a face, then offered a gentle smile.
So, what are you doing this evening? he asked.
Catherine surprised herself: without thinking, she replied, Whats your name?
Matthew.
Matthew, youre not just being kind, are you?
Not at all. Why would I be? The smile softened and fled, Matthew regarding her with thoughtful seriousness.
If youre not…then Ill wait for you this evening by the churchyard gate near the medical college.
I know the place. See you there! His smile was so genuine that Catherine believed him.
That first datewell, Catherine remembered every detail for years afterwards. Conversation was easy and unforced, as though theyd known each other forever. They both loved jazz, hated cottage cheese, wanted a cat but not a dog (who has the time for all those walks?), dreamed of having a proper home, and careers that genuinely helped people. It was as if fate had finally decided to bring two lost halves together.
Catherine and Matthew saw each other for over a year.
Catherines mother was appalled.
Hes not right for you!
Why not, Mum?
Hes a waiter!
Mum, you know hes studying, and only waits tables to make ends meet. Whats wrong with that?
Hes got a sick mother and a little sister to care for. Why involve yourself with all that baggage?!
Dont you think that says a lot about the sort of person he is, Mum? He looks after his family. Hell look after me, if ever I need it.
“That’s not self-respect, Catherine!”
“Actually, Mum, that’s exactly what I’m learning: to respect myself.”
The wedding was postponed, naturally.
If my mother doesnt make it, Matthew confided sadly, I dont know what Ill do.
Well, youll raise your sister, of course, Catherine replied, as though it were the only obvious answer.
You think I can do it?
Do you have another choice?
While helping Matthew care for his mother, it became clear time was short. Quietly, they registered their marriage at the town hall, taking only Matthews five-year-old sister, Alice, as their witness.
So, were family now? the little girl asked gravely, taking it all in.
Thats right, Catherine replied.
And me?
Youre family, too.
Thats good, Alice said, with more understanding than Catherine or Matthew wouldve guessed.
Matthews mother thanked them before she passed soon after, grateful for what Catherine had done.
Thank you, dear, for Alice and for Matthew. Sorry to leave you with this burdenI wish I could stay, she whispered hoarsely.
Dont, not now, Catherine told her softly, stroking her hand. Were fighting this, arent we? Or are you giving up already?
Her mother-in-law actually smiled: Thank you, Catherine. Really, thank you.
After the funeral, Alice clung to Catherine.
Is Mum in pain now? she whispered anxiously.
No, darling. Shes not hurting anymore.
And no more needles?
No, not now
Catherine grieved for Matthews mother, whod been a light in her short time as family.
Catherines own mother was furious at having missed the wedding.
What about the celebration, the dress I always dreamed of for you? I raised you for this?
Mum, you know it wasnt the right time for parties.
I dont want to hear it! My only daughter goes off and gets married without telling a soul!
After that, their relationship cooled to a sort of frosty protocol. Catherine dutifully visited, helped around the house, anything that involved her mothers health, but everything else was strained, almost like interacting with a distant relation.
Eventually, Catherine couldnt bear the distance.
Mum, do you have other children?
What nonsenseof course not!
Then why are you so determined to lose me, too?
Her mother, usually steely and composed, suddenly broke down.
Darling, I do love you…I was just never taught how to show it, she admitted between sobs. Mum said doting was bad for childrenyou had to talk to them as adults, be strict, to prepare them for the world so theyd survive disappointment. I thought I was doing the right thing. Now youre so far from me I feel I could scream and you wouldnt hear. It frightens me.
Catherine soothed her mother, but that confession haunted her. She worried secretly that shed become the sameunable to comfort her own children enough, unsure how much love was enough. If she repeated her mothers mistakes, would her children even tell her?
Matthew noticed the gloom that settled over her and tried to help, but Catherine felt she had to work this out alone.
Thus her nights sitting before the fridge in her dressing gown, cat for company, became a routine. Nights when she could think things through, reflecting on her life in the soft glow of the kitchen, occasionally offering the cat a tidbit of cheese.
She realised, eventually, that things might have been different if shed learned to be a little less well-behaved, a little less silent, standing up for herself as a childa fact both comforting and bittersweet.
How many years had it taken her to accept what now seemed so obvious?
The kitchen door opened; Matthew strode in, retrieving cheese, tomatoes, and some parsley from the fridge. Sitting by her side, he wrapped an arm around her, wordlessly offering a homemade sandwich.
Go on, have a bite.
Matt, Ill never get into my jeans again if I keep eating in the middle of the night.
Nonsense! Just have a bite! Matthew crunched into his own with a wink at the cat. Want some?
The cat leapt down to accept, settling on Catherines lap, perfectly content.
I love you, you know, Matthew said, watching her chew, smiling. Even if you weighed a ton, it wouldnt matter. And you know that. Shall I ask whats up?
Catherine finished her sandwich, pressed her nose against her husbands neck, and stroked the cat.
Its all fine, Matthonestly. Forty-six dress size for a woman my age is perfectly respectable.
Best woman Ive ever seen. You know that, right?
Tell me that more often, will you?
Will you stop midnight wandering to the fridge, then?
Matt!
What? And nowbed. Please.
She took his hand, letting him help her up, hugging him close, grateful for his patience and understanding.
Matt?
Yes?
Were having another baby.
How did I guess? Matthew grinned.
Oh, Matt! You know me too well. And those midnight snacks must have given it away. Its only three weeks.
Matthew let out a soft cheer, and she gently shushed him.
Quietyoull wake the kids!
The cat followed them to the bedroom, then padded back to the kitchen window, curling up once more, listening to the silence.
Soon, silence would become rareCatherine would have her hands full again, and the cat would sleep beside the new crib, content to trade midnight kitchen vigils for the company of a house full of love and a newborns soft scent.
Looking back on that night, I realised: sometimes it takes a lifetime to learn to speak up, to trust and loveand that those things, hard-won, are worth every hour of doubt I ever spent beside the fridge in the quiet dark.
