Companionship

Author’s note:

This story takes place in a world where humans are not social creatures. It’s a world parallel to our own but where no one has a last name. There are no family connections, only duties, and needs to be met. Parents are not proud of their children’s accomplishments, nor embarrassed by their failures. People live together, yet only interact when need arises. 

Companionship

White chalk skids against the black board as Teacher Anne multiplies seven and fourteen. Twenty-six students, dressed in gray, take notes on plastic desks.

“Treat the one and four separately,” she commands, not looking back from the board as she writes a two above the one and an eight in the square marked for her answer. Her shrill voice is disturbed only by the sharp scratching of pen on paper. 

Keili looks at the “98” in her notebook and tunes Teacher Anne out. Sighing under her breath, she surveys the room. The walls are bare with cold tiles underfoot. As she turns, Tom meets her gaze. His square jaw is set and his emerald eyes have a blank sheen as he goes back to note-taking. No other students notice her watching, or care to show notice. 

Keili fixes her attention on the small window on the east side of the classroom, looking into the Waymer forest. Tall pines reach up into a blue sky. A soft breeze feathers through the branches, pushing them back and forth in a beautiful dance. Clouds overhead join in the music of the wind, shuffling more slowly than the branches, but methodically forward. 

Keili’s lips begin curling into a smile. She can almost taste the sweet aroma of pine and feel the wind lifting her black hair from her shoulders, tickling her back. Catching the involuntary motion, she turns away, her face expressionless.

“That’s all for today.” Teacher Anne bends over her desk and folds papers into a large brown binder. Her ginger hair is pulled into a tight bun. Gray suit-pants and blazer frame her slender figure as walks through the door. The twenty-six students sit unmoving until teacher Anne is out of sight. Without a word, they shuffle out of their seats and into the street. 

“See you tomorrow,” Keili whispers so that no one can hear. The students disperse, sporting the solemn expression she has learned to feign herself. Once out of sight, her attention returns to the breeze and the sense of freedom its cold gusts evoked. The smile returns. This time she doesn’t stop it. Is anyone else pretending? 

The ten minute walk between her home and the schoolhouse is the highlight of her routined days. They’re filled with imagined adventures and happy conversations with the wind and trees. With freedom. 

“I feel like Tom almost spoke to me today,” she says to the daisies along the road. “And not about problem fourteen like he did last week. Real talk.” She knows it’s all pretend, but for these ten minutes that’s okay. It’s okay to imagine, to hope for change. 

A quiet meow pulls her out of an imaginary conversation with Tom about climbing trees. A pink nose pokes out of a nearby bush. Another meow, this time more persistent, comes from the foliage.

“What’s wrong?” Keili bends over and lifts the branches, revealing a small kitten with a large gash along its side. It cowers from the light as Keili moves toward it. “Don’t worry, I won’t hurt you.”

The kitten rests its head on the ground, closing its eyes. Its tattered fur is matted from the wound. As Keili rests her hand on the animal, she feels its bones under the fur.

“You’re hungry, and hurt, aren’t you?” Keili whispers, lifting the animal into her hands. Mom will not allow this.

Mom doesn’t have to know.

Pushing the kitten under her jacket, Keili hurries home. She would continue her imaginary conversation with Tom tomorrow morning.

“Dinner is in the fridge,” comes an impassive voice. Keili’s mother, Joanne, is sitting at her desk in the living room, bent over a laptop. The blinds are closed and a single table lamp illuminates her work. Her long dark hair is pulled into a tight braid which hangs over the oak chair. 

“Thank you, Joanne.” Keili stands in the entrance, hands crossed over the bulge in her jacket, until her mother responds.

“Do you have other needs?” Joanne asks without turning from her work.

“No.” 

“Good. Do your tasks tonight. Reminders stop next month.” 

“Yes.” Keili turns off the hall light that was on for her arrival and hurries up the stairs to her room, hugging the kitten close. 

She places the kitten gingerly onto a towel on the bathroom floor. It curls into the folds of the towel and stares at Keili. A soft meow beckons Keili’s hand to its fur.

“You’re done suffering.” Turning on the faucet, Keili tests the water. When she deems it warm enough, she lifts the kitten into the stream. It meows a feeble protest before submitting, never averting its gaze. 

Over the following days, Keili nurses the young cat back to life, hiding it in her bedroom each day before school and praying for it to escape Joanne’s notice. After two weeks, the kitten’s fur is full, its frame less skeletal. Twenty minutes before Keili typically leaves for school, she sneaks the small animal under her shirt and into the street. 

Once she arrives at the bush where she had found the kitten, Keili sets the cat down with a smile.

“Your needs have been met. You can go now.” Keili pats the cat one last time before standing and walking to school. A scratch above her ankle calls her attention. 

“What do you need?” she asks, staring at the cat, her brows furrowed. “I’ve seen you catch your own food, there is water nearby. You’re no longer hurt.”

The cat rubs its body against her legs and purrs. Keili’s heart swells as it has throughout the course of her week with the kitten. A feeling from her wildest fantasies. Confidence, joy, and sadness flood her as she bites her lower lip. Companionship. 

“Do you have any needs?” she asks again, suppressing her hopes as she has learned to do. The kitten nuzzles into her leg. Keili closes her eyes at the touch of soft brown fur and warmth of the small body. The heat courses up her leg and into her lungs, relieving a pressure she didn’t realize was there. 

Keili picks up the kitten and runs her cheek along its fur. Purring fills her ears and a smile spreads across her face. When she releases the animal, she meets its gaze. Could this small animal yearn for more than physical needs? For the same thing Keili has always missed?

“You’ll stay with me?” she asks breathlessly. 

The cat meows in response.

Keili beams. “Okay! I guess we should give you a name, then.”

Closing her eyes, Keili tries to fit a name to her new companion. Her only companion. 

“How’s Joy?” she asks. The kitten stares.

“Yeah. It doesn’t feel quite right.” Keili hesitates, her eyes distant. A dream within a dream calls for her. “It’s silly...” she begins.

The cat stares up at her, unblinking.

“Joy-Keili," she says at last. Feeling the need to explain, she continues. “Because we’re connected. I’ve... I’ve always had this dream... that we tie ourselves to those we care about, not just because we need them, but because they are part of us.”

Joy-Keili purrs. Keili’s smile broadens.