Ben and The Cat

It had been a year since Ben had stopped talking. The day it happened, Ben’s roommate Jack found him sitting on the floor with his head in his hands, crying. When Jack asked what happened, Ben looked up, wiped his nose on the sleeve of his blue sweatshirt and opened his mouth to answer. But instead of words, only loud sobs came out. Ben handed Jack his phone and Jack read the texts. He put the phone gingerly on the floor next to Ben, and touched his shoulder.

“Sorry… if there’s anything I can do…”

Ben shook his head.

“Do you want me to stay, or leave you alone?”

Ben didn’t answer, he just cried. So Jack stayed.

Soon all the residents of the second floor in Dorm B knew. Jack told them about the texts.

“What happened? How?” they would ask. But Jack didn’t know how. Ben didn’t know how either. But it didn't really matter how.

The next day, Ben bought a ticket home, packed a small bag and sent a note to the Registrar’s. From the doorway of his dorm room, he turned around and raised his hand briefly to Jack: good-bye.

“You’ll be back, right?”

Ben nodded yes.

“When? Next week?” Jack was getting used to asking “yes” or “no” questions so Ben could answer without words. Ben shrugged and tilted his head. Maybe.

“OK. Sorry again. Must be so hard. Your father must have been very important to you.”

Ben’s eyes welled up. He turned, walked out and closed the door. Maybe he would come back next week. Maybe not. Maybe never.

That week was the hardest of Ben's life. When he got home, his mother hugged him tightly and cried. For a long time, the world disappeared and all that remained was Ben, his mother, and their tears flowing in a never-ending river, which could have engulfed them and taken them away. They wouldn’t have noticed or minded if it happened. When Ben’s mother broke off the embrace, she looked at him and tried to tell him something. And just like Ben the day before, her words were replaced with sobs. She couldn’t talk to him that day.

There was a funeral. There were people dressed in black. They walked slowly and talked in hushed tones. They shook Ben’s hand and spoke words of comfort, which did not succeed in comforting him, but helped him stop crying. There was an overwhelming smell of flowers that did not evoke spring nor summer nor sunny days. Ben didn’t know that flowers could smell like death and sorrow. These did. Their ill scent had taken over the house. It crept into Ben’s unsettled dreams when he finally fell asleep, at an hour so late at night that time had no more meaning. His sleep was short and restless. He woke up before the sun was up and he somehow knew that his mother was awake too. The smell of funeral flowers was still lingering in his room, even though he had left the windows wide open since the evening. He waited, still in his bed, until the first light of dawn hit the floor, and then he got up and repacked his small bag. Downstairs, he found his mother sitting in the kitchen.

“Leaving?” she asked, and that was the first word that she said to him since his father had passed away.

Ben nodded.

“Poor you.” This time his mother didn’t hug him. She just took his hand and held it. “Do you really have to go back to the University already?” She sighed and patted his hand. “Come back when you can.”

He came back sooner than his mother expected. After a week of loneliness, he bought another ticket home. He still couldn’t talk to anyone. Every time he tried, tears would drown his voice. He gave up trying. He couldn’t go to sleep in the evening. He felt lonely for the first time in his life. He tried hugging the pillow. He tried thinking of his father. Then he tried not thinking of his father. Nothing worked. After six days of silence and six nights of dismal sleep, he was back home.

“What happened?” his mother asked. She cupped her hands around his face and looked in his eyes. “You look tired,” she said sadly.

Ben smiled. For his mother, he managed a smile. Do not worry. He went in the kitchen, where his cat Blue usually lay lazily by the window. The cat that his father got him when he turned ten. He picked Blue up. The cat put his paws on his chest, gave him a happy sniff and started to purr. That night, with Blue snuggled up against him, Ben slept soundly for the first time in a week.

“Are you happy?” Ben’s father asked, looking at little Ben knelt on the floor, caressing the cat.

“Yes!”

“Do you want to give him a name?”

Little Ben tapped his chin theatrically, showing he was giving the question some serious thought. He looked closely at the cat, then blurted, “Blue!”

His father chuckled. “Blue?”

“Yes, because he has blue eyes and blue is my favorite color!”

“Yes,” his father agreed. “That’s why I picked him.”

Little Ben’s eyes lit up. He jumped and ran into his father’s arms. “Thank you!” his muffled voice came, his head buried in his father’s sweater. It was in the days when Father still hugged little Ben.

Next to Ben, Blue stirred, stretched and went back to snoring. Ben slept peacefully. His dream was as warm as his father’s embrace.

The bright sun filtered through the azure curtains of the bedroom. That morning, Ben had breakfast with his mother, then threw his bag over his right shoulder and picked Blue with his left hand, ready to return to school.

“Are you taking him?” his mother asked, pointing at the cat.

Ben smiled and nodded.

“It’s good, yes, take him. He’s a good cat. Your father…” she couldn't finish. Ben put his right arm around her. He was surprised, like he'd never noticed before how much taller he was than his mother. He kissed her forehead and she wiped a tear, then found her voice again. “Your father used to tell everyone about your studies. Make him proud.”

Ben gave a small nod. I will.

A year later, Ben was still unable to talk. But it didn’t bother him. He was used to it. One day he was going to talk again, one day, in the future. His friends got used to it too. In the beginning, they tried to ask him questions and say things to make him feel better. Soon, they accepted that he could not answer their questions. They offered him pen and paper, but he wasn’t inclined to use them to communicate. They texted him, until he realized he did not want to send or even receive text messages either. He was content to be in the presence of his friends without having to talk. Although it was fine for him, it became awkward for them. They started avoiding Ben, giving him a strange look when he showed up holding his cat, and eventually they stopped saying even “Hello” to him.

The only one who still acknowledged Ben was the thin girl with messy hair from the first floor, who was otherwise the shyiest girl he ever met. She smiled and said “Hi, Ben!” whenever she ran into him. Maybe because she knew he wouldn’t start a conversation with her. Maybe she enjoyed being able to say “hi” to a boy and not worry about what he would say in reply. Maybe that felt safe for her. Whatever the reason was, Ben was happy to hear her voice. He would smile and walk on by. Never stop, because she never stopped either.

There was a knock on the door.

“Who is it?” the girl with messy hair asked. Instead of an answer, another knock came. She opened the door. “Hi Ben!” she said and smiled. But there was no smile in return. She frowned.

“Something wrong?” she asked, and Ben’s mouth trembled. He breathed in deeply and looked for words, for the first time in a long time. They failed to come to him. So he folded his arms together close to his chest and cradled something imaginary.

“Your cat?” the girl with messy hair guessed. “Is he missing?”

Ben blinked slowly. Yes. He looked miserable.

“I’ll look for him. I promise.”

He bowed his head. Thank you. Then he left.

If she only knew what Blue meant to him. How wise of his father to get him a cat, and not a dog. Dogs were good, loyal, smart. But they asked for things. You had to talk to dogs, walk them, take them out to do their business, throw them a stick for entertainment. None of that with a cat. Blue was there when you needed him, and disappeared when you didn’t. Except for now. He disappeared and Ben still needed him. Wrong time. And Blue was getting old, after all. Ben hoped that he was alright.

Blue was better than alright. He was floating upside down carried by an invisible current, like a hawk in the sky, except that he was not in the sky but right there above Ben’s bed. His tail swung slowly, casually, left and right, his paws gently caressing a breeze that was tickling his belly. When he was close enough, he flipped over and sat on his fluffy butt, staring at Ben.

“Why were you so worried? I wasn’t gone that long.”

He was still floating mid-air.

“Where were you?” Ben asked curiously and tapped the blanket on a spot next to him. Blue hopped gently down onto the bed.

“I was up there. I had a wonderful chat with you father.”

Ben was suddenly worried. “Did you die?” He changed his mind about petting Blue.

“No, silly Ben,” the cat said and purred a feline giggle. “We have special privileges, because we have nine lives, you know?”

Ben tried to figure out how that worked. Was his cat supposed to die, but only lost one of the nine lives so he was still alive? Had he lost any lives before? How many did he have left?

“Your father is proud of you,” Blue said, in a soft voice.

Ben felt a knot form in his throat. He had tried to talk to his father many times over the past year. In his mind, in his prayers, when he was half awake, when he was half asleep… He never felt that it was anything more to it than his imagination. Why did this now feel real?

“Don’t be so hard on yourself, and don’t be sad,” the cat continued, his voice as sweet as fresh milk. “You will be able to talk to your father again. Up there, one day. When the time comes.”

Ben shook his head. Just like everybody else said. You will see the dead again when you join them. It was not fair that you had to die, that dying was the only way to get to talk again to someone you missed. Some people took their own life before their time came, just to be reunited with the ones they loved. Also not fair, that they should make the rest of us look like we don’t care enough, like we don’t miss our loved ones enough, if we continue to live our lives.

“He loves you and he is watching over you. And wanted you to know that it is time you talked again. Which, of course, you already are – look at that!” and Blue pushed his little head against Ben’s side, purring in approval.

“I’m not,” Ben replied. “I'm not talking already. Only to you, now, and this is not real.”

“Not real?” Blue scoffed. “Of course it’s real. Tomorrow you go talk to that cute girl who was looking for me earlier.”

“I can’t. She only says hi to me because she knows I won’t say anything back. She’s shy. If I start talking to her, she’ll never say another word to me again.”

“Not true,” Blue countered, matter-of-fact.

“I don’t even know her name.”

“April.”

“How would you even…?”

But Blue lay down and closed his eyes, his furry little body wedged against Ben. He started to purr. The conversation was over.

The thin girl with messy hair was walking out of the dorm, when she saw Ben coming in, his cat on his shoulder.

“Hi Ben!” she said cheerfully and clapped her hands. “You found him!”

Ben stopped and decided it was time to try to say something. She reached and scratched the cat lightly between his ears. Blue stretched forward a bit and squeezed his eyes almost shut, enjoying her playful touch. She patted him gently and took off.

“Bye, Ben!”

Ben turned around and watched her go.

“Bye… April!”

The girl stopped and did a sudden twirl, shock and delight on her face. Ben was almost as shocked himself, not only because he had finally said something, but because that voice, his voice, sounded foreign to him. Then she laughed.

“May,” she said. “My name is May,” and she spun around again and ran.

Ben ran his fingers through his cat’s fur. “You were wrong, Blue,” he whispered. “But you were also right.” Blue looked up at Ben and purred.