Natasha was picked up from the oncology ward by her cousin Elizabeth. Elizabeth was a successful artist, known for her open, kind, and cheerful nature. As she helped Natasha to the car, she spoke candidly:
“Nat, there’s this… well, it’s about Mark. He’s living with some woman, but don’t worry. You have a place to stay, and I’ll support you as much as I can.”
After surgery and several rounds of chemotherapy, a bald, thin, and pale Natasha walked alongside Elizabeth, thinking: conventionally, at this moment, one might faint, cry, tear out their hair, but she was already bald.
She considered faking a faint and falling into a puddle, but didn’t want to ruin the white coat Elizabeth had lent her because it was autumn and quite chilly.
The car was warm, but Elizabeth still wrapped her sister in a furry blanket, buckled her up, and drove her to a new life. While they drove, Elizabeth explained:
“I bought a house for myself two years ago, thinking I’d live and paint there in the summer, but realized it’s not for me. I’m used to the conveniences, the big shops, the buzz of people.
I can’t stand the silence. I was at the house yesterday; the heating works and the water flows. The rest is up to you. There’s a small grocery store, but I’ve brought you enough supplies. I’ll visit often.”
A large ginger dog was sitting in the yard, wagging its fluffy tail furiously. It ran up to Natasha and buried its nose in her knees. Natasha petted the shaggy ginger head and looked at Elizabeth questioningly.
“Nat, I picked him up from the shelter yesterday. You need a friend. How can you be here alone? Don’t worry, I’ve got food for him—enough for a month. It’s more fun with two. His name’s Johnny.”
The small two-story house was warm. The dining room was filled with boxes of canned goods, grains, pasta, flour, and biscuits.
“You’ll sort it out yourself, so you’ll know where everything is. The fridge is stocked. In the wardrobe, you’ll find clothes for all seasons, as we’re the same size. Let’s have some tea, Nat, then I’ll head off.”
After putting on her coat, Elizabeth approached Natasha, trying to catch her eye. But Natasha looked away.
“Nat, this dog was in a cage for three years. No one wanted him because he’s big and not young anymore. I understand it’s hard for you, but you have me. And Johnny has you. You have to hold on to something to find your way back to life. Forget about Mark. Everything will be fine. And by the way, the house is yours now, papers are in the bedroom, along with the money. Nat, let’s live! I’ll come by next week, call me if you need anything.”
Elizabeth kissed Natasha and left.
It was already dark, yet she remained seated in the chair, feet tucked under her, face resting on her knees. She cried at first, then told herself how miserable she was, then cursed Elizabeth for burdening her with a dog. What if I just lay down and die? But what about the dog? Poor thing. At least I should feed it.
Natasha put on a jacket, looked at her bald reflection in the mirror, and said, “Let’s not scare the dog; it’s not his fault,” put on a hat, found the food, filled a bowl, and went outside.
After eating, Johnny licked the bowl clean, then licked the salty tears from Natasha’s face, lay beside her on the porch step, and rested his head on her knees.
Stars appeared around the bright, round moon in the night sky, more and more. Natasha found the Big Dipper, smiled at it, and blew a kiss. Then she hugged the dog and said:
“Alright, Johnny, I’ll make you a proper meal tomorrow. With meat.”
All week, every morning Natasha would flinch at her reflection in the mirror and say:
“Eleanor…”
And now and then she wondered: maybe it’s not worth it, this life. Who needs me? But then she’d see Johnny comfortably curled up on his bed by the fireplace, and she’d decide: alright, I’ll live a little longer.
Elizabeth kept her promise and returned the following week. She walked in with a box and placed it on the sofa, saying:
“Nat, where should I put these? A stray cat, can you believe it, gave birth in the stairwell, and they’re cold! I brought food too…”
In the box lay a skinny ginger cat, cuddling two tiny kittens. That evening Elizabeth left. Standing at the door, she paused, then pulled a slip of paper from her coat pocket and handed it to her sister:
“Nat, Mark came by, asking where you are. I didn’t tell him. Here’s his new phone number. It’s your choice.”
Natasha walked Elizabeth to the car, waved her off, and went back inside. She petted the cat:
“You’ll be Whiskers. I’ll pour you some milk right now. Everything will be alright.”
Passing the fireplace, she tossed the slip of paper into the flames…
