Cat Dubois' Odyssey to Enchantment Page 5

  Tourists smiled as they walked through the town looking at everyone and everything, all appearing to be so divine.

  Since it was such a beautiful day in Glory Town, the birds chirped merrily as they flitted from tree to tree. The aroma of the Stargazer lilies permeated the April air. All seemed good and wholesome— the best of life, itself.

  Cat picked a lily up to smell it. She was careful to keep it an inch from her nose, not wanting the yellow pollen to dye her for enjoying such a simple pleasure. The aroma was sweet and clean. She smelled the cantaloupes as she walked on, stopping to inspect the local produce.

  She wore dark sunglasses, a light pink straw hat covering her angular cut, recently dyed, black shoulder-length hair, which she had done at a salon in a neighboring village since she had been feeling dark, gloomy and downright gothic since her parents death. To mark the anniversary, she had decided to change her honey hair to bluish-black. She took extra time putting together her ensemble for her trip into town. She wore tasteful, formfitting, sleek, pink, mid-calf coveralls over a black long-sleeved t-shirt, to match her hair. Her black-wedged sandals looked attractive with the outfit. Her lips were painted with hot-pink lipstick to match the pink coveralls.

  Her new look created more contention from the women who would dare not dress in such a flamboyant way. But, Cat didn’t live her life according to the beats of their drums. “After all, why should I?”, she mumbled, feeling angry and rejected by the residents. “I have no one to please, but me.”

  The gossip queens loathed her look. It was simple, and tasteful; but it was she, who no matter what she wore, who just had a sensuousness about her, that heightened the jealousy-driven group of those four women. Intuitively, Cat felt their covetous thoughts, and she used them against them in provoking their catty gossiping. Remembering them from their high-school behaviors, Cat knew they had not changed, at all. She secretly laughed at them. “Jealous, are we?” Cat was amused by their glaring reactions.

  Although, the whispers had been kept silent to protect Cat’s mother and father when they were living, the Glory Town snob and want-to-be socialite, Ruth Barton and her three daughters now chided the name “Cat” right out loud, whenever she walked by or her name came up, with a “Meeeeow.” They snorted during their clever bullyragging.

  The fact that Ruth, Priscilla, Patsy and Daphne Barton were openly snide at social functions puzzled Cat’s only friend, Larry Johnson, who was in the proximity that fine afternoon. Days past, when Cat’s parents were alive, he couldn’t help from wondering how they never knew or, if they did, never stood up for her. Of course, he also knew that Ruth was a loud-mouthed know-it-all, and that the basis of all their comments was envy. But Ruth and her daughters’ intimidation was worsening since the accident that took Cat’s parents from her.

  Cloyingly, Cat flirtatiously held the melons side-by-side, breast-level. She looked their way; and, of course while they were watching, she kissed the melons, then laughed out loud. Provoking Priscilla, Patsy and Daphne, especially those three, she winked in their direction because their mouths were agape as they stared at her. Having fun at their expense was one of her favorite revenge tactics. On the other hand, their husbands had drooled and stared when she inspected the fruit, smelling and caressing each specimen.

  The men continued to stare, doubling and triple-taking, when she picked up the homeless kittens and puppies from their wired cages, where they waited to find good adopters. “May you find a good home,” she whispered as she held a tabby kitten to her cheek.

  Normally, Cat didn’t venture into Glory Town’s center unless it was shopping time. When she did come to town, she refused to allow the [sic] “kind” folks an opportunity to taunt her. She would never give them any power over her. Instead, as in this case, Cat looked over her shoulder, slowly removing her shades, and focused her looming gaze in the direction of the staring men. Oh, but this was her fun. She smiled, showing her beautiful teeth.

  The moment the men realized she had noticed them, they became nervous, quickly looking elsewhere, before they scattered, pretending to be involved in something else. One man whistled while looking in the opposite direction as if to say, “Who, me? I’m not paying attention to you.”

  Out of the corner of her eye, Cat saw the four gossip queens looking at her and laughing amongst themselves, hoping someone would pay attention to their one-upmanship. They loudly whispered the fact that “Catherine Dubois is actually friends with homosexuals.”; and sniggered as if they were as prim and proper as the tourists thought. Cat rolled her eyes at their shallow, immature insults. Oh, she heard them; and Larry Johnson, who was also in the store, heard them. He rolled his eyes and bit his tongue.

  Cat threw basil in the cart, then some carrots. Instead of two bottles of wine, she ordered a case of fine red wine. She held her peace. She wanted nothing more than to slap one of them, but she would be the one who would be arrested. Holding her composure, she practiced breathing in and out…ever so slowly. Just another day of living near devils in pretty dresses.

  Ruth, the chief gossiper, and the mother of Priscilla, Patsy and Daphne, was bold enough to say very loudly, “Since she’s never married, she must be one, too.” She gregariously laughed at her own joke. The other gossip queens followed her lead to laughing as ostentatiously as possible. They looked at Cat, who recognized their verbal assaults as pretty fierce harassment, but, since there weren’t any upstanding bully police around, Cat learned the best way to get to the women was to visually seduce their unsuspecting spouses. And, that was too easy.

  Jessica Fletcher-Snuttgrass, whose family came from Virginia, and whose husband, Robert, was a Professor of Biblical Apologetics and Genealogies at Dickens University in North Carolina, spoke in an innocent, sweet drawl as she passed by the gossip women, saying only, “Hello”, on her way to get a grip on Suzanne (their most recent child born - a toddler). Robert actually came and stood over the women for a moment, and asked, “Wherever did you hear that, Ruth?”

  Meanwhile, Suzanne was running everywhere around the tables, shrieking and laughing, and living up to that family’s reputation of raising brats, while Jessica pretty much ignored the fourth-born as she proceeded to jump on top of the tables. “She is just too cute, isn’t she?”, Jessica said, totally unaffected by her little one’s destructive spree. Much cuter and brighter than anyone else’s child, little Suzanne then expanded her impish nuisance by running directly into Cat, who was still shopping. The brat stomped on Cat’s foot, then smiled, giggled and ran back to the safety of her mother.

  “Why from God himself!”, Ruth claimed. “He says in ‘The Word’ not to have any fellowship with those who live in the dark. And, Catherine Dubois lives in the dark; you can see it all over her, all dark and gothic looking. She reeks of those of the underworld, Robert. Living in that old manor home by herself—for years! You have to wonder what she does up there in that house all by herself, don’t you?” Ruth winked; she was having fun adding to the gossip.

  The other women nodded, while Geraldine Cash, spinster socialite, and gossiper number five, came over to pipe in, “Why yes, you’re right. After all, she’s nothing like Mr. and Mrs. Dubois. They were fine Christians.” She just had to add her two-cents to the lovely afternoon conversation.

  Geraldine’s family had the best of manners and forbade gossiping of any kind, but she broke the rules to participate in this lowly bullying because she could. She was highfalutin and could do as she pleased—as long as her elderly parents and ancient grandmother weren’t there to witness. She wore dark, thick-rimmed glasses, a light blue seersucker dress with a white lace collar tightly-fitted around the neck, and held together by tiny off-white pearlized buttons. Her hair was ear-length and a mousey-brown shade kept in tight curls. She and the three others had smoked their long Virginia Slims as they concluded simply delighting themselves by their own humor at a brief lunch in the market. They had seated themselves, prominently, outside under the red vinyl canopy, while tourists g
azed upon them like they were some kind of stars. That was their civic pastime in Glory Town, on spring afternoons filled with warm sunlight that peered through from the dank grey winter’s gloom.

  Geraldine, who had spoken her peace, returned to the table of her small coven. They had gathered first, later joined by all the other townsfolk, who paraded on such days, dressed in spring Maypole solstice fashions celebrating sunshine. The young women wore light blue, yellow, or pink small-checkered German dresses, and the men donned Bermuda shorts with suspenders of various decorative colored patterns—some of houndstooth and others of rainbow stripes and random patterns. All the men wore hats of varying shapes, as did the women.

  Ruth Barton nodded her agreement with Geraldine’s summation, as she stuffed a bite into her mouth from a huge slice of chocolate cake. Her fellow gossipers feasted on an assortment of pastries—more than enough for them all to share. They ate the sumptuous delicacies with their gluttonous appetites, like pigs at a smorgasbord. Stuffing their red lips with dainty chocolate truffles, gorging on the giant slices of frosted cake, the four gossipers munched their way through the mountain of fruit tarts. They drank hot tea from the pink-flowered china pots and their matching cups and saucers. When they were through, they sat back, sucking away on their smokes.

  Cat watched them titter and chortle behind their hands. She sneered at the ugliness of the pestilent Lucifer women. Some of them even looked through the cans on the shelf an aisle away. Cat turned away, shaking her head and muttering under her breath.

  The delicate saucers and cups were servicing the women who least deserved them.

  Her stomach churned.

  A tourist stopped to ask the ladies for directions to the next town and Cat perked up, listening with half an ear. She watched, sadly, as the four gossipers gave the man a circuitous run around the mountains just for a laugh.

  She could not understand that, so she stopped the man less than eight feet from the four gossip queens. “Excuse me, sir, but I think there is a better, faster road, and it’s just as picturesque. It would save you some time; see, look, take this road instead and don’t bother to turn over here,” Cat explained.

  Larry piped into the conversation, “Yes, sir; she’s correct. If you leave the town going this way,” and he held up a map, “you will find the drive pleasurable.” He nodded to the man and glared at the bitches.

  The tourist thanked them both and went his way, never knowing that the gossip queens had taken him for a fool.

  Cat returned to the market to finish up her shopping.

  Mary Johnson, unaware of the situation, joined Larry and put her arm through his, then pulled him close. She nodded at Cat out of social courtesy, but immediately waved at her gossiping friends, edging Larry over to their table to say hello.

  Larry said, “Go ahead. I’m going back to the shop; I’ll see you later.” As he left, he gazed at Mary’s so-called friends. Mary caught his glare and followed him nervously, asking, “What’s going on? What just happened? Why is Cat Dubois here with you?”

  But the four queens only laughed between each other, “Did you see that look?”, they sniggered. “Ha ha ha ha!”, they giggled between themselves and stared back at Cat with visual daggers, sharpened to pierce her spirit. Cat remained standing near the women just studying and anticipating their next play.

  Ruth Barton was the first one to speak. “Well, well, aren’t you hospitable to our tourist guests?” She stood up and walked a tight circle around Cat. “Look at you—Ms. Glory Town’s very own goody-two-shoes. Ha ha! You wish.” Ruth took her index finger and pointed it at Cat’s face, almost touching her chin.

  “As if you would know what hospitality is, or common courtesy?”, Cat retaliated. Her crystal blue eyes never blinked as she stared back.

  27-year-old Daphne Barton approached the staring women. “Mom, what are you doing?” She looked at her mother, and then at Cat, realizing that her mother was on the verge of striking Cat physically. “Now, stop. Whatever is going on here needs to stop.” She looked at Cat who didn’t stop glaring at Ruth. “Come on, Mama. There is no good sense in any more bickering.” She took her mother’s elbow, to move her from Cat’s space. Daphne looked back at Cat to make sure she was not furthering this conflict or attacking from behind. “Cat, please, just go on, please.” She said to her mother, Ruth, “Mama, she’ll put a spell on you. Now leave her alone.”

  Cat shook her head, overhearing that comment, thinking to herself, “Unbelievable. I could terrorize this town if I wanted to. How did I get so much power?”

  The first jealousy of the women in that family was: Daphne Barton had designs on Daniel, who cared nothing about her. The fact that Cat sang like a bird, and Priscilla, who was always in vocal competitions against Cat, didn’t; that was the second grudge. The third resentment was that Cat was naturally smart and learning came easy to her. And lastly, Cat was gorgeous, and none of the three daughters were anywhere comparable in looks or in character. Of course, the self-righteous bourgeoisie didn’t pay any attention to the four sins of the Barton women. So Cat was doomed by the pretentious quad. Cat exhibited qualities that were hard to beat.

  Ruth Barton’s upper lips curled as if she smelled something bad when Cat walked away. “You have no power here!”

  Cat shot her the bird on the way out. She put her dark sunglasses on and left the store.

  “Did you see that!” As Ruth squawked like a buckshot duck, spit flew from her mouth, as she stood pointing at her.

  “Ruth calm down. You are giving that woman more power than you should. She’s not worth your being this upset. Sit sown and have some wine.” The other women were no longer laughing. Jessica Snuttgrass poured Ruth another glass.

  Another time, just a year later, in early spring 1984, on a similar beautiful spring day as was her last conflict with the gossip queens, Cat was in town shopping. She watched from a corner at the outdoor cafe, while sipping a cup of hot jasmine tea. The day presented like any other day, and tourists were poking their heads in and out of the shops. They took pictures of the residents dressed in costumes, milling around in the characters of their dress.

  Cat noticed a poor couple and their two children who, too, had come to Glory Town to see the beautiful sights. Just like wealthy travelers, they also wanted to experience a piece of heaven and were delighting themselves in the experience.

  They were unobtrusive and reserved. Their children were well-behaved and quiet, as the father gently disciplined any picking up of items in a store. They ate brown-bagged sandwiches in the center of the park on picnic tables. Their attire was clean, but not at all fashionable or expensive, by the appearance of their garments. Cat just watched them.

  Unfortunately, their car broke down, leaving them stranded. They had enough money to buy a meal and little else, as evidenced by the way the father searched his wallet and the family’s worn attire. It was doubtful that there would be enough money for fixing the broken-down, 1970s, faded brown station wagon. It had a dent on the passenger side. By the looks of things, and with only one mechanic in town—Larry Johnson—the couple would have to spend the night in Glory Town. Cat noticed they counted their change and whispered worriedly to each other.

  Their two children began to scream from being so tired and hungry. The old station wagon was sent to the shop, after it’s radiator stopped smoking while parked in a spot in front of the town square. The hotel only had one unaffordable room, and the evening meal plus breakfast would certainly be more than this family had in their pockets.

  The townsfolk remained uninvolved and disinterested; they also had no patience for the screaming children. The evening cooled as the sun began to set.

  Cat had come to town two times that day, only to see this family on both occasions. The second time she saw them, they sat on a lone park bench facing the street. The town square had already begun to empty; the people of Glory Town sought their homes as the shops and businesses folded up at dark. Cat watched the mother cover her eye
s to stem the tears she couldn’t hide.

  The father sat stiffly looking at the ground, while the children continued to weep.

  It was a scene Cat could no longer bear; she had to approach them. “Excuse me, I apologize for the intrusion, but I can’t help from noticing your children. Is everything alright? Is there anything I can do to help?”

  “No, thank you. Everything is fine. Thank you for asking. We’ll be okay,” the father replied.

  “Oh, I see. Are you checking into the hotel?” Cat asked, already knowing the answer, but she had to keep the man talking.

  “No. No, we’re not,” both husband and wife answered.

  “Again, I apologize. It’s none of my business,” Cat said, allowing the couple to save face in spite of her prying questions, but quickly inquired, again, “Are your children hungry?” This time, she didn’t give them the chance to refute, quickly adding, “I have stew and sandwiches at my home. Is your car in the shop?” Cat hesitated; but when they didn’t reply, she furthered, “Oh, it must be, if you’re here and there’s no car. The auto shop is closed now, so that must mean you’re without transportation?” Cat sighed; and prompted, “You know, the restaurant is closing. And, honestly, I need some company. Would you accept my invitation to join me—please?”

  “Oh, ma’am, we couldn’t impose,” the mother protested. “You don’t know us and we wouldn’t feel right. It’s very kind of you to offer, but, no, thank you.”

  Cat shook her head, emphatically. “I insist!”, she said, firmly. “I’m not giving you a choice. This is no place for children to wait until morning. Please, come with me,” Cat said, motioning to the children. “This way, children.”

  The children started to follow Cat towards her Jeep.

  “Come on!”, Cat said, delightedly, waving the family towards her four-wheel-drive Jeep. “It’s really no trouble at all.”