The Cat Factory
Rita Villa
Copyright 2007 Rita Villa
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
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Chapter One
Emma’s eyes sprung open. “I didn’t die, damn-it, damn it, damn it.” She kicked her feet like a five-year-old having a tantrum. “What kind of hospital is this? It’s freezing in here,” she said as she sat up and yelled, “Can I get a blanket?”
No one came.
She looked at her wrists. They were covered with dried blood. “I can’t do anything right.”
“Why am I under a spotlight?” She reached her hands up. “At least that’s warm.”
Green and tan checked tile covered the walls, floor and ceiling. A large metal tool box sat next to her bed. “If this is a hospital, it’s the ugliest one I’ve ever seen. She looked around for a call button. “And there’s no nurse, well that’s just great.” She swung her legs over the side of the bed. “This isn’t even a bed. It’s a freakin’ metal table. No wonder I’m freezing.”
An old desk covered with papers and an oak swivel chair were placed against the wall. She hopped off the table and grabbed a lab coat draped over the back of the chair. “Doesn’t anybody care that I’m freezing to death in here?” She looked out the door, down the hallway and yelled, “Where is everybody? Hello…can somebody help me?”
Nothing.
She went back into the room, sat in the chair and wrapped up in the lab coat. It barely covered her. She pulled it down over her toes. “Brrr…” she said, shivering. She thought about picking up the phone and calling someone, but who?
“What a terrible shame,” a lady said in the hallway.
Emma jumped from the chair and yelled, “Help me, please.”
Two ladies dressed in green scrubs entered the room. “I hate cases like this.”
“Hello, finally,” Emma said. “Can I at least get a real bed and a blanket?”
The ladies ignored her.
“And maybe some clothes?” Emma looked down at the lab coat. “I borrowed this, I hope that was okay.”
The tall lady turned her back.
“Excuse me.” Emma grabbed her arm. “I was talking to you.”
Still nothing.
“Gosh, you people are rude. Is it because I don’t have any insurance? Is that why I’m in this awful excuse for a hospital?”
They just kept talking about what they had for lunch.
“Do I need to call a lawyer?” Emma walked toward the desk and started flipping through the phone book. “Right here, that’s it.” She pointed at a yellow pages ad. “I’ll call these ambulance chasers.”
The other lady took a scalpel out of the cabinet. “We better get started,” she said.
“You just don’t get it do you?” Emma said. “I want to see your boss.” She tugged at the taller woman’s shirt. “Why won’t you help me? I’m not asking for much here? Just a simple bed and a blanket.”
“Says here she’s going to be cremated.”
“Cremated!” Emma screamed. “Who’s going to be cremated?” She grabbed the lady’s arm again. “Please, get me out of here before you talk anymore about someone being cremated.”
The lady looked at the table. “What a beautiful girl.”
“Beautiful? Who’s beautiful?” Emma sighed. “I’m so confused.”
“Yes, she was beautiful wasn’t she,” the taller lady said.
Emma pushed the two ladies out of her way. “I’ve got to see what you’re talking about. Because I was just lying on that table so I know there’s nobody there…” Her jaw dropped, eyes bulged and she couldn’t move, nor breathe, nor think. She stepped backward and almost tripped over her own feet. “What the hell is my body doing on that table?” She pulled on her hair as if she was going to yank it out by the roots. “This is not happening, this is not happening, this is not happening!”
The lady held up the scalpel.
Emma jumped forward and put her arms out. “Stop! That’s my body.”
She started to make an incision.
Emma grabbed her wrist, but she just kept cutting. She covered her eyes and turned away. “I must be dead,” she mumbled as she tried to swallow the lump in her throat. “This place isn’t a hospital. It’s a damn morgue and that’s my corpse you’re about to slice up!”
Chapter Two
Officer Doug Sanders pulled into the Saint John’s Street homeless shelter. The old brick building had seen its share of trouble over the years. It looked as worn out as the folks hanging around by the front door. He rolled down his window to talk with the medical examiner who wheeled out a body bag on a stretcher. “Another suicide?”
“Looks that way.”
Officer Sanders parked his car along the street. The radio crackled in the background.
He made his way through the crowd of on-lookers. “Who’s in charge of this place?” he asked.
“Otis, that’s him, over there, the old guy in the flannel shirt,” one of the shelter’s residents told the officer.
“Otis?” Officer Sanders said.
Otis stopped mopping up the blood. “Yap, that’d be me.
“Can you tell me what happened here?”
“Well, don’t know much.” Otis leaned on the mop. “Just found her this mornin’ when I went in ta clean up the stalls.” He looked at the ground. “Ain’t never seen so much blood. I hope it was okay ta start cleanin’ up. The other guy said I could as soon as ya all moved the body.”
“Yeah, that’s fine.”
“Some a the residents was gettin’ upset. I thought it best ta get it done.”
“Can you tell me her name?”
“Emma, her name was Emma. Such a nice young thing.” Otis glanced at the officer.
“How about a last name?”
Otis thought for a second. “Started with an F, yeah, that’s it, Flanders. Her name was Emma Flanders.”
“So how long has she been coming here?”
“Oh, ‘bout three years now.” He hesitated and scratched chin. “Yap, ever since the little one came along.” Otis pulled his sweater tighter around his body. “Mattie’s gonna be okay, right?”
The officer looked up. “Who?”
“Emma’s daughter, Mattie.” Otis pointed to the three-year-old. “That’s her, over there, with my wife.”
Officer Sanders glanced over at the little girl, she was crying. “She had a child?”
“Sure did. Though I don’t think she was meant ta be no mamma. It’s hard enough bein’ poor without a child ta support and worry about.” Otis reached into his pocket and pulled out the papers Emma had left behind. “I best give you this birth certificate before I forget.”
Officer Sanders unfolded the paper. “I’ll call the child’s father,” he said looking at Mattie’s birth certificate, “this, Samuel Logan, and see if he can meet us at child welfare.”
“I don’t think he even knows about the precious little thing,” Otis said shaking his head.
“Why do you say that?”
“Emma never told the man he had a child.”
“What about before she came here? Was she living with him?”
“I don’t think so ‘cause she told me she lived over at Saint Rita’s while she was pregnant. But they threw her out after the baby was born. They just didn’t have room. That’s when they done came here.”
“So you don’t know anything about the father?”
“Not much, she said he was some artist down in SoHo, goes by the nickname Scooter. He was livin’ in his car last I knew.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“You won’t let him have her if he’s livin’ in a car.” Otis looked up at the officer. “Will ya?”
“Child welfare will check him out before they make that determination. What about Emma’s family? Her parents? Grandparents?”
“I don’t think she had no family. Least not that she talked about, started drinkin’ when she was only sixteen.” Otis looked at the officer. “Oh-yeah, I remember her talkin’ ‘bout livin’ under the bridge at the seaport, down by South Street, till she got herself knocked up.”
“I know the spot.”
“Said she lived in a cardboard box, poor thing.” Otis looked at Mattie. His wife was bouncing her up and down on her knee. “I just know that’s one sweet baby over there, don’t wanna see any harm come ta her just cause her Momma’s done passed on.”
“Had Emma threatened suicide before?”
“Complained a lot.”
“About?”
“Oh, just things, ya know, I tried to help, but sometimes there’s just nothin’ I can do besides give folks a warm place ta sleep and a good bowl a soup.”
Officer Sanders smiled. “Sometimes that’s the best thing you can do.”
Otis looked at the bloody floor. “Ya see, officer, these gotta be the saddest folks I done ever met.” Otis sighed. “And that pretty young thing she was one a the worst a the bunch. Never could see anythin’ good. Not in that there beautiful baby girl a hers, not in livin’. Just wanted ta drown her sorrows in a bottle. Can’t tell ya why, but then I can’t tell ya why anybody can be so down on life that’s got themselves somebody ta love.” Otis smiled at his wife. “There’s my reason right there.” He pointed at Rosa. “Been together thirty years. I gots me a million reasons ta be happy.”
Chapter Three
A large paper tag hung from her toe. “Emma Grace Flanders, yap, that’s me.” She took a deep breath and sighed. “I thought when I killed myself everything would just be over with.” She poked at the corpse. It was ice cold. “Something must be wrong. How can I still be breathing, thinking, living? My body is obviously dead, but I’m not?”
No one answered.
She gave up, sat down in the chair and rested her head in her hands. The ladies chatted as they began the autopsy. Emma thought she would be sick listening to the saw cutting through her rib cage. She covered her ears but the saw made a loud sound that reverberated throughout the room. “Oh, this is terrible. I can’t stay here.” She ran into the hallway. Everything was covered with the same ugly tile, no artwork, plants, or people. “Where is everyone?”
Her feet stuck to the old tile as she ran down the hallway. “Yes, a ladies room.” She turned on the water and let it run until it was hot. “Oh, that feels so good.” She rubbed her hands together and then splashed her face.
She studied her reflection. Her skin was filled with color, her cheeks pink, and her hair long and shiny. “Wow, you look great. How can that be?” She ran her fingers through her blonde hair. “Amazing, you’ve never looked so good.” Emma realized she also felt good. “How can I feel so good…I’m dead? Aren’t I?”
Chapter Four
Emma slid onto the bathroom counter, leaned against the wall and closed her eyes. “What am I supposed to do now?”
In the darkness behind her closed lids she saw something, a dim light. The more she focused on it the clearer it became. It looked vaguely like a small house with the porch lights on. A very tiny house tucked behind her own eye lids. How bizarre, she thought.
All of a sudden she wasn’t in the bathroom at the morgue. Instead, she found herself standing on someone’s front porch, facing a big wooden door. Not knowing what else to do, she knocked.
Nothing happened.
“What the hell’s going on here,” she mumbled. She knocked again. “Hello.”
No one came, but she could hear something inside, a creaking, like footsteps. Quickly, she knocked again, harder.
“Is anyone home?” Just more footsteps.
Then the door knob turned, the door opened just a crack and a four foot tall, very old lady peeked out. One big brown eye stared directly at Emma and a clump of wild gray hair stuck straight up on the top of the lady’s head. She opened the door a bit further and smiled, showing only a few crooked, yellow teeth. She giggled as she said, “I’ve been expecting you,” and welcomed Emma into her home.
A wood fireplace crackled. The place smelled like chocolate chip cookies.
“Welcome, Emma. My name is Yolanda.”
“How do you know my name?”
“You’re on my list, yes, I was expecting you.”
“Expecting me? How could you be? I don’t even know where I am?”
“Well, you’re at my house, dear.” Yolanda pulled out a chair at a big old kitchen table. “Maybe you better sit down.” She placed a large plate of hot, gooey, cookies and two tall glasses of cold milk on the table, pulled out a chair and sat down next to Emma.
“I thought I killed myself?”
“Yes, I guess you did,” Yolanda said looking at Emma curiously.
“But how, why, am I here?”
Yolanda took her hand. “My house is a stop off for all the people who die on Earth. They’re usually quite bewildered, like you are now.”
Emma took a gulp of milk. “So I am dead.”
“Oh, don’t be silly dear, you’re not dead. There’s no such thing.”
“You just said you’re here to help people that die on Earth.”
“There’s no such thing as death like humans think of it.”
“Okay, now I’m really confused. I’m dead but I’m not dead.”
“Your body is ‘dead’ but only from your life on planet Earth. Your spirit is alive.”
“Please tell me that’s not so.” Emma pushed the cookies away. “I want to be dead.”
“I don’t know why you’re headed through here at such a young age and at your own hand no less, but you are…”
“You seem really nice but I don’t think you should be judging me, you don’t even know me.”
“So why are you here?” Yolanda smiled.
“My life sucked.”
“What was so bad about it?”
“My mother was murdered when I was only sixteen. I never knew my father. I guess he was just a roll in the hay.”
Yolanda reached out and touched Emma’s hand.
“I didn’t want to live in a foster home after Mom died, so I ran away. I started drinking and begging for money. I lived under the bridge in a cardboard box and ate out of trash cans. Isn’t that enough reason to kill yourself?”
Yolanda just smiled. Hers was one of the warmest, most loving smiles Emma had ever seen. Instantly, she felt surrounded by a loving presence.
“And then, to top it all off, I got pregnant,” Emma continued. “I had to drag a kid around with me everywhere. I couldn’t make some quick cash from guys on the street anymore. It was rough.”
Yolanda took a bite of cookie.
“It’s tough living on the streets. You gotta worry about getting mugged, especially with a kid along. Worry all the time, trying to feed her and get her clothes and stuff.”
“Did you love her father?”
“What does that matter?”
Yolanda rubbed Emma’s hand. “Just curious.”
“It wasn’t meant to be. He was an artist, a good one. I was a drunk. It wouldn’t have worked out. I would’ve held him back. A year or so ago I saw an album cover he designed. She’ll be better off with him. He’ll give her a real life.”
“Your daughter?”
“She looks just like him. He’s a happy person, he’s not like me.”
“You don’t think you could have worked something out, been happy, raised your daughter?”
“Never, besides I’m dead, I guess, huh?”
Yolanda didn’t answer.
Emma looked out the picture window. “It’s beautiful here.” The sky, filled with stars, seemed surreal. “I’ve never seen the sky look so dark, and the stars, there’s so many of them.”
Yolanda nibbled on her cookie.
“What in the world!” Emma screamed as she jumped from her chair, threw open the door and ran onto the front porch. “Was that the Earth?”
Yolanda followed her. “Magnificent, isn’t it?”
Emma simply pointed toward the sky. “Did you see that? Did you? Something that looked like Earth just went flying by.” Emma looked into the distance. “Wait a minute, I see it; here it comes again.” She tugged at Yolanda’s sweater. “See that, look, right there.”
“Have you ever seen anything so blue?” Yolanda asked.
“Never, and the clouds, they look like cotton candy.” Emma looked over the railing. “Where’s the ground? There’s no ground!” She leaned farther. There was nothing but space above the cabin, below and to both sides.
Yolanda chuckled. “No, there’s no ground because we’re orbiting the Earth in the Milky Way galaxy.”
“We’re what? No way.” Emma looked farther over the railing expecting to see ground somewhere.
Yolanda grabbed her around the waist. “Be careful.”
“Orbiting the Earth, in the Milky Way galaxy,” Emma said. “That’s impossible.”
“But true.”
Hundreds of thousands of stars filled the sky. “This is awesome. I never knew Earth was so beautiful. It didn’t look that great while I was there.” She felt like she could touch the stars as they spun past the front porch. She reached for one. “I have a million questions.”
“Hopefully I have some of the answers,” Yolanda made herself comfortable in a big rocking chair. “Please, sit.”
Emma scooted into one of the rocking chairs. “So you said this place is just a stop off for people who die, right?”
“Yes, like you, most people don’t understand that their death is just a continuation of their life.”
Emma sighed. “So you’re saying my misery is going to continue?”
“There isn’t supposed to be misery in life or in death,” Yolanda said. Her rocking chair made a creaking sound.
“But sometimes there is.”
“You will learn what you need to.”
“What does that mean?”
“I can only tell you so much, the rest you’ll learn when you’re ready.”
“I’m ready right now.”
“You’ll know when the time is right.”
“Okay, well, you’re being very vague.”
“I can only tell you what you are meant to know at this point in time.”
“Like I said, vague. So am I just supposed to hang out here with you? Because that doesn’t seem so bad.” Emma giggled.
“I’d love the company, but that’s not how it works. You can’t stay here. This is just a place for spirits to pass through.”
“Yeah, you said that earlier. So how often does somebody like me come through here?”
“About every two hours. I’ve helped tens of millions of spirits pass through here over the last ten thousand years.”
“Ten thousand years?” Emma looked at Yolanda as if she was lying. “You’re trying to tell me that you’ve been living in this house for ten thousand years? There’s no way.”
“Yes.”
“I know for a fact that people don’t live to be ten thousand years old.”
“Like you thought you could kill yourself?”
“Yes.”
“You were wrong about that too, weren’t you?”
“But, but… But human bodies only last like seventy years or so.”
“That’s true.”
“So you couldn’t have been alive for ten thousand years. People don’t live that long. You just said it yourself.”
Yolanda smiled. “But spirits do.”
“So it’s your spirit that’s been alive that long, not your body?”
“It’s hard to separate the two, but in a way you’re right. It’s my spirit that’s been alive that long.”
“But my body’s dead, right?” Emma asked. “So what part of me is here? My spirit? And if that’s the case, why do I feel like I still have a body?”
“Like I said, they’re hard to separate. Part of you is left behind, on Earth, as a corpse. Part of you is here as a spirit. Right now that spirit is manifesting into that which it knows, your former body.”
“That’s why I look so good?”
“Yes, your spirit has restored the part of your physical body that you’re experiencing to its perfect form.”
“Is that why I’m not craving vodka?”
“When the body is restored to its original perfection, there are no diseases, addictions, aches or pains.”
“If this is my original form, then how long will I live like this?”
“Your spirit will never die.”
Emma glared at Yolanda. “Are you telling me my spirit could live another nine thousand nine hundred and eighty years?”
“Oh, easily. You’re a very young spirit.”
Emma took a deep breath and exhaled loudly. “I was really hoping everything would be blank when I killed myself. That it would just be over with. Now I’m facing another nine thousand years. How can I even begin to comprehend that?”
“You’ll learn not only to comprehend it, but to love it.”
“I doubt it.”
“Everybody does,” Yolanda mumbled.
“What?”
Yolanda laughed. “Oh, you’ll find out in due time.”
Emma starred at her. “So, what am I supposed to do for another nine thousand years?”
“Oh, don’t worry about that. You’ll have plenty to keep you busy. Your grandfather, Albert, will be coming to pick you up to work at The Cat Factory.”
“Yeah, right.”
“No, I’m serious.”
“You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you?”
“This is only the beginning.”
“Now I have a grandfather and I’m going to work at some factory?”
“The Cat Factory, you’re going to work at The Cat Factory.”
“Yeah, sure I am. With my long lost grandfather,” Emma said as she rocked.
“Don’t believe me then, that’s fine.”
Emma leaned back in the rocking chair. “For now I’m going just sit here in outer space and watch the Earth fly by.” She laughed. “And eat homemade cookies with the oldest person I’ve ever met.”
Chapter Five
A figure appeared out of thin air, an older man smoking a pipe and bald with just a little gray hair on both temples. He was dressed in a brown plaid flannel shirt, brown plaid polyester pants, and a dark brown, striped sweater. He looked into Emma’s eyes as if he’d known her forever and tenderly took her hands into his.
“Emma, hello, I’m your mother’s father from your last life time. We never got to meet on Earth, but I’m your grandfather. I’ve come to take you to The Cat Factory.”
“Yolanda told me you we’re coming, but I still don’t understand. Now you’re supposedly my dead grandpa come to take me to this Cat Factory place.” Emma looked at Yolanda. “This has been fun and you’ve been really nice.” She looked back at Albert. “But I really just want to be dead. Can we get on with that?”
“There’s no such thing as death and I’m not your dead grandpa, because I’m not dead, and neither are you. We’re just not on Earth right now; it doesn’t mean we’re dead.”
“No, but we’re in a log cabin in outer space. That sounds logical.”
“We aren’t staying here.”
“No we’re headed to someplace called The Cat Factory. Sure we are.”
Albert sighed. “I know this all sounds crazy, but think about how you feel, rather than what your logical brain is saying.”
“How I feel?”
“Yes, how do you feel being here?”
Emma shrugged and nodded. “Really good. And your point?”
“You feel comfortable here because you’re headed home, to your real home.”
“This Cat Factory place is my real home?”
He took a long puff of his pipe, and as the smoke left his mouth, continued with his bizarre story. “The Cat Factory is only a small part of The Department of Creation. That’s your real home, where each and every tiny thing comes into being.”
“Department of Creation?”
“We work to create everything that exists. There’s much designing and production to be done. Each and every species has to be planned, produced, improved upon, and possibly retired.”
“And this Department of Creation does that?”
“Yes.”
“Sure they do.” Emma smirked.
“Well, who do you think makes everything?”
“God, of course.”
Albert laughed. “But you never believed in God.”
“No, I didn’t, but I certainly didn’t believe in all this mumbo jumbo either. I just knew we were born, life sucked and that was that…death and darkness for eternity.”
“Boy, were you wrong.” He chuckled. “Each and every tiny thing has to be made, perfected, sculpted, produced, and tested.”
“Even cats?”
“Even cats. The Cat Factory is a busy place. Cats are the most popular pets in the universe. You’re very lucky to be going there. It’s not a punishment, but a wonderful gift.”
“A gift? Why?”
“Your spirit has many things to learn. The Cat Factory isn’t just a place to create cats; it’s a place to create enlightened spirits.”
“But I don’t want to learn anything new. I want it all to be over with. I don’t want worries, work or anything. I made the decision to kill myself. I want an end.”
“My dear, Emma, your life will never end. That’s not an option. There’s no end to something once it’s created. You may change the type of life you’re leading, but you will never be in darkness. In that matter you have no free will.”
He grabbed her hand. “I know you have a lot of questions, but we have a long journey ahead of us, we better be on our way. There are many very old spirits working at The Cat Factory. They’ll help you learn what the universe is really all about.”
A fist banged loudly upon Yolanda’s door. “Is anybody home? Help me.” The voice, shaky and terrorized, sounded like Emma’s a few hours earlier. She wondered if that person had killed themselves too. Would they go to The Cat Factory? What was their story?
Yolanda leaned over, kissed Emma’s cheek and said, “Go and enjoy, my dear. Let your grandpa take you to the next step, you’ll be happy there.” She hugged Albert. “Good-bye, Albert. It’s always a pleasure to see you. Please don’t forget, I’m still waiting for the kitten you promised me.”
Albert grabbed his granddaughter’s hand, and everything went black.
Chapter Six
In what seemed like just a few seconds, the blackness faded. Emma and Albert stood at an intersection, long hallways in every direction, with no visible end. She looked up; the walls angled in, or appeared to, as they transcended her field of vision into oblivion.
She took Albert’s hand.
“No reason to be scared,” he said with a sweet smile.
White paint covered the endless span and gigantic wooden doors lined the walls as far as she could see, in all four directions. The doors, at least twenty feet tall, were made of beautiful wood, birds-eye maple, she thought. The brown marble floor looked infinite. A vivid light shone down upon each door, illuminating an engraved brass plague.
Albert shook his hand loose, before she stopped the circulation to his fingertips. He took a puff from his pipe. “It’s okay, Emma, relax. We have a long walk ahead of us.”
“What’s behind all these doors?” she asked as they began walking down the never-ending hallway.
“You’ll find out in a few minutes.”
He walked at a fast pace, but she couldn’t resist reading the crazy plaques. “Department of River Creation. What in the world?” She looked at her grandfather with a wrinkled brow. “Wildflower Development. New Planet Production. They aren’t really making planets. Are they?”
He took another puff from his pipe.
She tried again. “How long has this place been here and why don’t people know about it? Surely somebody has been here before.”
“I know you’re very curious, but all your answers will come soon enough.” He patted her on the back.
“Everybody keeps telling me that. My answers will come soon enough.”
She saw a figure approaching, pulling a noisy cart and covered in black and white paint. Maybe he could answer her questions.
He shouted and waved. “Hey, Albert, how the heck are ya? I haven’t seen you in at least fifty years. Are you still at The Cat Factory?”
He looked like a normal guy. What’s he doing in this weird place, she wondered.
“Hi, Tony. Yeah, I’m still at The Cat Factory. I’m in charge there now.”
Emma interrupted the two men. “Tony, can you tell me about these doors?”
Tony chuckled at her question and then turned his attention back to Albert. “Wow, Al, how’d ya get that gig? I’m jealous. I’m still stuck here in Zebra stripe painting. Seems like all I do is fetch paint. We’re always running out.” Tony stared at Emma. “So who’s the pretty girl, Al?”
“That’s my granddaughter. I’m taking her to work with me.”
Tony shook her hand vigorously and said, “You’re one very lucky lady, yes, very lucky.” He smirked like he knew the answer to a Jeopardy question. “You’ll find out about the doors soon enough.”
“Is that all anybody can say around here?” she said.
Then he turned and without another word continued to pull his wobbly cart, filled with fifty-five gallon drums of black paint. The wobble faded as he kept walking.
Emma turned her attention back to reading the interesting signs adorning each doorway. “Rainforest Restoration, Star Creation and Production for the Milky Way Galaxy, Dolphin Design.”
“We better get a move on,” Albert said as he started walking faster, almost dragging her along like a distracted dog on a leash.
“This place is unbelievably weird.”
“It’s bit overwhelming at first.”
“Are you sure I’m not having some kind of nightmare? First I’m dead, then I’m in outer space eating cookies with a ten thousand year old, then I’m here.”
“Positive, dear, no nightmare.”
“Why are we in such a hurry? I want to read these crazy plaques.” She pulled him toward a door.
“I suppose you’re right, there’s no real hurry.”
“Cloud Shape Design and Creation,” she announced as if he should be amazed. “This place is bizarre, but I don’t feel afraid anymore. I actually feel peaceful.” She smiled. “I didn’t know I could feel this way.”
Even though she was immersed in an unknown world, she felt somehow like she had returned home. She walked in a state of wonder reading doors, “Bumblebee’s and Other Flying Insects.” So many doors, such a long hallway. Her feet started to hurt.
“We’re almost there.”
“Thank God.” She spotted the end of the hallway. One door at the very end, twice as big as the rest, appeared to be made of gold. The sign read New Species Research and Development.
He pointed. “That’s the ultimate place to work, but only very, very old spirits can get those jobs. Once in awhile our departments work together, but we haven’t designed a new species of cat in quite a few years.”
“Designed a new species?”
He seemed excited as he continued, “Not since the hairless one. I hear that’s pretty popular on Earth, great for people with allergies. Did you ever see one?”
“A hairless cat, yeah, I saw one at a pet shop. It was weird looking, but very soft.”
“This way.” He took a sharp right and there it stood, a huge wooden door with a brass plaque labeled in large letters…The Cat Factory.
Chapter Seven
“We’re finally here,” Albert said.
“The Cat Factory,” Emma said. “We’re really at a place called The Cat Factory?”
He placed his palm on a small plastic panel next to the door. A green light scanned it. She heard a loud click as the door unlocked.
“Albert, welcome back,” a cheerful voice bellowed from a small speaker above the door. “We’re happy you’re home. I assume you have Emma with you.”
Emma stared up at the speaker wondering who was asking about her.
“Happy to be home, Polly,” he replied. “Yes, Emma is with me. Yolanda was good as always, but she still wants a cat. Somehow we’ve got to get one sent in that direction.”
“You know that’s almost impossible,” the speaker announced.
He turned the knob and pushed on the massive wooden door. It creaked and groaned, as if it hadn’t been opened in a long while. Emma’s heart thumped in her chest. Eyes closed tightly and filled with trepidation, she took a hesitant step.
The massive door slammed shut behind them. Afraid to open her eyes, she heard lots of noise, voices, hustle and bustle. She felt like she was standing in the middle of Manhattan. She peeked; definitely not New York City. There were people everywhere, as far as she could see, computers, machines, boxes, carts, sculptures, tools, and cats in all stages of construction. People busily scurried about, analyzing, creating. They carried drawings, clay, and rolls of fabric that looked like fur. This place has to be miles long, she thought, because she couldn’t see to the other end. Everywhere she looked people ran around like worker ants.
Albert turned to her. “I know it’s a bit much at first, but you’ll get used to it.”
“Is it always this busy? What are they all doing?”
“Yes, it’s always this busy, sometimes worse.” He chuckled. “I know this is hard for you to understand, but this place,” he lifted his arms as if showing off a grand piece of art, “this is where we make all the cats for the entire universe.”
“Like, real cats, not just stuffed toys?”
“Yes, real cats, big cats, little cats, house cats, lions, tigers, panthers and more. Every conceivable kind of cat is made right here. We work twenty four hours a day, every day of the year.”
“Making cats?” She rubbed her temples.
“Yes, they go to Earth and other planets to spread love. Here is where we fill them with that love; it’s such a wonderful job.”
“Albert, Albert!” A woman screamed as she ran straight toward him, arms outstretched. Her rolls of flesh vibrated and her gigantic boobs bounced. A bright orange, flowered dress covered her body and an orange bow tied like a ribbon on a package, adorned her brown curly hair.
Emma recognized the voice - the one that came from the microphone outside the door. She grabbed Albert and hugged him so hard Emma thought he’d collapse.
Albert looked at Emma squeamishly, still trapped in her crushing grip. “Emma, this is my sister, Polly, your aunt.”
“Emma, my dear, sweet, Emma,” Polly said, hugging Emma until she thought her lungs would pop. “I’ve been waiting for you. We’re all so excited you’re here.” Dazzling cherry lipstick surrounded her huge white smile and her intense red cheeks looked like two big ripe apples. Her plump hand wrapped itself in Emma’s as she started walking.
“How in the hell did I get here,” Emma mumbled.
“What, dear?”
“Just wondering where we’re going.” Emma waved good-bye to Albert and wondered how she came to be in this mess with this colorful lady pulling her through a mass of confusion.
“I have so much to show you,” Polly said, obviously excited.
They hopped into a little cart that looked like a souped-up golf cart. Polly could barely fit, but she squeezed in, the steering wheel imbedded in her rolls of flesh.
Chapter Eight
Polly talked while she drove. “I can’t believe you’re really here. You’re going to love it.”
“Where are we going?” Emma asked.
“We’re going to get you settled in your house. And you know what? I have a present for you.”
“House, present, cats.” She felt overwhelmed by it all. They passed hundreds of desks, carts, boxes, and computers, people doing all kinds of jobs. The place seemed endless.
“Albert and I have been watching you for almost five years.”
“You’ve been watching me?”
“Yes, we can watch you.”
“From here?”
“Unfortunately, you ended your life on such a sad note, at such a young age.”
“Best decision I ever made.”
Polly ignored her. “We prayed for you to see life as the precious gift it really is, but you always looked at the negative side of things. You never gave yourself a chance. You had so much good, but you turned away from it.”
“I had nothing good. Mom taught me that life sucks and mine sucked big time. I just ended my misery.”
“Oh, Emma, there were much easier ways to end your self-inflicted misery.”
“You don’t know how hard I had it. My life was lousy and no end in sight.”
Polly patted Emma’s leg. “You had so much good right in front of your eyes, you just weren’t looking.”
“Good, what good?”
“Life is beautiful, but to see the beauty you must really look. You just don’t know how. Don’t feel bad, a lot of humans are that way.”
“There was nothing beautiful about my crummy life. I lived in a cardboard box for years with vodka for a best friend. That’s just great, huh?”
“And that’s why you’re here.”
“Because I lived in a box?”
“No, it’s not about the box or anything else you perceive of as bad. It’s about learning how to see your own loveliness and how much you had to offer life. You need to see your potential.
“My potential what?”
“It’s all in how you look at it, my dear. Some things I can’t explain in words, you’re just going to have to see them for yourself.”
“Here we go again,” Emma mumbled.
“What?”
“Nothing.” Emma looked away. “Everybody’s just a little vague with the answers around here.”
“Ahh, here we are.” The double doors swung open as they arrived at the front of the building.
The door man waved. “Hi, Polly, good to see you.”
She waved and smiled as they buzzed on by and went outside. The most beautiful day Emma had ever seen appeared before her eyes. A dazzling blue sky, adorned with fluffy white clouds and sunshine, warmed her skin. The vivid green trees filled with leaves, made the air smell like spring. Everything glowed. It looked like Earth, but more intense. The birds sang a hundred songs, and everyone waved at Polly. Cats of various colors, shapes and sizes wandered everywhere, as if they owned the place.
They drove down a small road lined with green grass and flower gardens in bloom. Polly swung her cart into a driveway so fast they almost tipped over. She laughed as Emma grabbed the side of the cart to keep from falling out.
Little Victorian cottages decorated the street. The one they parked in front of painted three shades of pink and white looked particularly adorable. Tulips, Emma’s favorite, filled the garden. Their perfume reminded her of spring, warm sunshine and chocolate Easter bunnies.
“This is all yours, Emma,” Polly said as they entered the house.
Emma had never set foot in such a perfect house, least of all lived in one. “Mine?”
“Yes, yours.”
“Really?” Emma looked around. Sun streamed in the kitchen window highlighting the light yellow walls. A warm welcoming feeling filled the air. She took a deep breath, as if absorbing the lovely nature of the place, and wandered into the living room. A comfy brown velvet couch and two oversized chairs looked so inviting in the living room that she could hardly stop herself from jumping on them and screaming hurray.
Just when she thought she couldn’t be happier she heard a tiny “meow,” and saw a kitten running toward her. He sat down and looked up at her with impossibly huge blue eyes.
“What a doll,” Emma said looking at his orange and white striped fur and the most perfectly shaped pink nose she’d ever seen. She picked him up, hugged him tightly, and as she did, he purred so loudly her chin quivered.
Polly patted the little guy. “This is Charlie; we kept him especially for you.”
“He’s so cute.” She carried the kitten into the bedroom. The bed was like nothing she had ever seen. A down comforter flowed over a delightful mattress and a mountain of pillows called to her.
She noticed a photograph of a baby girl hanging over the bed. Her heart nearly stopped when she saw how outrageously beautiful the girl appeared. Astonished by her glowing skin, loving eyes, and radiant smile, Emma felt like she was in the company of baby Jesus himself.
“Who’s that little girl? She’s so beautiful. I can’t take my eyes off her.”
Polly looked up solemnly and replied, “Emma, my dear, that’s your own daughter, Mattie.”
Emma stood there, stunned. Such a wonder and magnificence glowed around the child; yet looking closely she did resemble her daughter. “That can’t be Mattie?”
“Maybe we better sit down.” Polly sat on the bed. She patted the quilt with her hand. “Sit here next to me and I’ll explain.”
Emma sat on the bed but didn’t take her eyes off the photograph. Charlie curled up on her lap.
“Albert and I watched you go through so much on Earth, but when your mother died it seemed like you really gave up and turned everything over to alcohol. It made us very sad. The vodka destroyed your chances of living out your dreams; it ruined your love for life, took away your connection to the spiritual realm, and made you feel life was worthless.”
“It was worthless,” Emma mumbled.
“We watched as you turned from everything good that came your way.”
“There you go again saying I had something good. Nothing good ever came my way.” Emma continued to stare at the photograph.
Polly ignored her outburst. “We can’t affect your life from here because of your own free will. All choices are up to you. But we prayed Scooter’s arrival would change things. It didn’t. You walked away from his undying love. All your love went into that stupid bottle. It broke our hearts to see you so, so, sad.”
“I still can’t believe that’s Mattie.” Emma moved closer to the photo, analyzing it. “Are you sure? There’s no way.”
“In the meantime,” Polly said tugging on Emma’s sleeve. “Are you listening?”
“Oh, yeah.” Emma turned back toward Polly.
“Albert had been working with your great, great, grandmother on the design for the hairless cat. She works in New Species Development.”
“He told me that, about the cat design.”
“She’s one of the oldest spirits in existence, and she’s uncommonly wise.”
“My great, great grandmother?”
“Yes, well, Albert explained the situation to her and they decided since we couldn’t help you from here, someone needed to go down to Earth and try to help you first hand.”
“I’m confused.” Emma moved closer to Polly. “Someone needed to go to Earth?”
“This wise old spirit, your great, great, grandmother, Madelyn, volunteered for the job.”
“Job? She went to Earth as a job? What kind of job? And she could choose to go to Earth from here?”
“Helping you, that was the job. And a tough one it turned out to be.” Polly smiled and went back to her story. “The trip really excited her. She hadn’t been to Earth in over one hundred and fifty years. Albert and Madelyn concocted the scheme that she would go to Earth as your baby. They were sure when you found out you were pregnant you would give up the vodka and make a life for yourself with Scooter, as Mattie’s mom, but you didn’t.”
“So you’re trying to tell me that the screaming kid I carted around for three years was actually my great, great grandmother?”
“She was.”
“And she went all the way there to help me?”
“She tried, but things just seemed to get worse.”
“This is all pretty hard to believe.”
“But true.” Polly continued, “Albert was a wreck watching you go downhill. Their plan failed, and Madelyn was stuck in the body of a homeless three-year-old. She hoped to share her lifetime on Earth with you, but you left.” Polly looked into Emma’s eyes. “But young spirits like you are particularly unpredictable.”
“This whole thing is nuts. You’re saying I just left my great, great grandmother trapped in the body of my daughter?”
“Yes, that’s exactly right.”
“Alright, Polly, if this really is true, why didn’t I see her like that?” Emma pointed to the photograph.
“You weren’t really looking. You were focused on yourself, your unhappiness and vodka. Mattie has always been glorious. Your eyes shut out her beauty, as well as your own.”
For the longest time, Emma could say nothing; she just stared at the photo. Then she started to cry. “Oh-my-gosh, Polly, why did she do that? Why did she go?”
“Because she loves you so much.”
Emma buried her head in Polly’s chest and sobbed. Polly consoled her by running her fingers through her hair. “It’s going to be fine now, honey.”
Emma looked up at Polly, eyes red and swollen. “Do you know what I did to her? I used her to make money for booze. I dressed her up really cute and we begged from the tourists. They couldn’t resist her face. I dragged her around and complained about her all the time. I made her sleep at a homeless shelter.”
“Yes, I know, dear, but it’s okay now.”
“No, it’s not okay now. If they didn’t have any beds at the shelter sometimes we had to sleep in the alley.”
Polly pulled a tissue from her pocket and wiped the tears from Emma’s face. “Here, blow,” she said holding the tissue under Emma’s nose.
“My daughter was so beautiful but I never saw it or felt it. Where was I? What was I thinking?” Emma blew her nose. “I was drunk! That’s where I was. I was drunk.”
Polly crinkled up the tissue and tossed it in the trash can. “You were, yes, but beating yourself up won’t help the situation.”
“I hated my life.” Emma looked up at Polly with tear-filled eyes. “But you’re right; I didn’t see what was right in front of me. I was too busy figuring out where I was going to get money for booze, and getting drunk, and dealing with hangovers. There wasn’t any time left for enjoying life.”
“I’m glad you can see that so clearly now.”
“Now I can, yeah, but then, I couldn’t see this.” Emma pointed to the photo. “Even if you had told me I would never have believed it. I mean, it’s hard to believe it all now, but then, in the midst of it all, I would’ve thought you were completely wacko.”
“It’s hard to see things as they really are. Sometimes the beauty gets masked by the pain.”
“What?”
“You were suffering after your mother died. You just didn’t know of any other way to deal with the pain you felt inside.”
“And I was scared. Some people on the streets preyed on young girls like me. Booze helped me be stronger.”
“You thought it did.”
“No, really it did.” Emma shook her head.
“You thought you were stronger because you were drunk, but really you were much weaker and more vulnerable. Alcohol gave you a fake sense of security.”
“What do you mean fake?”
“Alcohol fooled you into believing things that weren’t true.”
“Like what?”
“Like your life was bad. Or that drinking more would make things better, or you’d be safer.”
“But my life was bad.”
“That was an illusion.”
“It seemed pretty clear to me and if I had been sober it would have been worse.”
“How?”
“I would have had to deal with my own problems.”
“Yes, and?”
“Isn’t that enough?”
“Everyone has to deal with their own problems. Dealing with them makes you stronger.”
“But the vodka made them disappear.”
“Really.”
“Yeah.”
“Really?”
“Well, for a bit.”
“Like when?”
“Like the first gulp. Everything faded away.”
“After that?”
Emma sighed. “Oh, you’re right damn-it. It all just came crashing back on me even harder than before. It was like I was free for a few minutes, I could forget about Mom, and then all of a sudden I’d be terrified and panic stricken. Then I’d be begging for money or selling my body for a couple bucks to buy more, just to try and escape for a few more seconds.”
“But morning always comes.”
“What?”
“Morning, a new day. It always comes and must be looked straight in the eye. That’s very hard to do with a hangover.”
“I see your point. In the morning I’d be throwing up, feeling like crap, not only from the booze, but from the guilt I’d feel over what I did the night before. I’d never have admitted this then; I hated myself more every time I put that bottle to my lips. I just couldn’t help myself.”
“Addiction is a tough cycle to break.”
“How could I have done it?”
“Each soul has to answer that question for himself or herself. But I can tell you, if you look into the mirror and learn to love what you see, not what you look like, but who you are, inside, as a spirit, you will know no matter what happened to you, no matter what you have done, are doing, or might think is wrong with your life, you are perfect.”
“But I’m not perfect.”
“Every spirit is perfection. There is nothing else. No matter how much pain you feel, you are still that perfection.”
“But that’s so hard as a human. We beat ourselves up over everything.”
“I know, honey, I know. I’m still dealing with issues from my last life time. But that’s part of being human, joy and pain. You’ll discover they are one and the same.”
“That’s very confusing. I thought you said I wasted my life drinking because of the pain.”
“I did.”
“Now you’re talking about joy. I don’t remember any joy.”
“None?”
Emma thought for a second. “There were the doughnuts.” She chuckled. “We made friends with this lady that worked at the doughnut shop, Betty. She would sneak us the day old doughnuts. They were perfectly fine, but they couldn’t sell them. I loved the big fat ones that were filled with custard and covered with chocolate frosting. So did Mattie. We would fight over them and we’d get laughing and tickling each other until both our faces were covered in gooey chocolate and custard.” Emma smiled. “That was fun.”
“Within the pain there is much joy and beauty. Life is never just about pain. It always brings good things along. Sometimes you’ve just got to be willing to see it.”
“So now that I know I could have made a better life for myself and Mattie can I go back?”
Polly cocked her head. “Go back where?”
“To Earth?”
“What makes you think you could do that?”
“My great, great grandmother did it.”
“Under very different circumstances.”
“But I wish I could do it all over. I’d call Scooter and tell him how much I love him. I’d tell him about Mattie, throw away the booze and run into his arms.”
Polly gently placed her hand under Emma’s chin. “If only you had understood that lesson on Earth, baby girl. It’s too late now.”
“Too late?” Emma could barely breathe. “But, Polly, can I just go back, knowing what I know now?”
“It doesn’t work that way. When we don’t learn our lessons on Earth we must learn them here and trust me, it’s harder from here.”
“Harder? How can it possibly be harder?”
“Once we see our mistakes we can’t go back to our former life and fix the things we messed up. We can only use the wisdom we learn for future reference.”
“Does that mean I’ll never be with my daughter? I need to apologize for being such a rotten mother.”
“I know it’s difficult, but when you made the decision to take your life, you gave up the chance to raise Mattie and live as her mother.”
The finality of that seemed too enormous to contemplate. Still, Emma had to try. “But Madelyn went to Earth to help me. Why can’t I go back to help Mattie?”
Polly patted her head. “You have much to learn before you can be reincarnated, and still you would only be a little baby yourself. Besides, I wouldn’t worry too much about Madelyn; remember she’s a very old spirit.”
“Will Madelyn hate me for leaving her alone?”
“Oh, dear, there’s not an ounce of hate in Madelyn’s soul. In her twenty thousand years of life…”
“Wow, wait a minute. Here we go again with the twenty thousand year old thing.”
Polly continued, “She has grown beyond all negative emotion. Ultimately, there’s only love and that’s Madelyn. It’s too bad you didn’t get to experience her love on Earth. When an old spirit, like Madelyn, returns to Earth, miracles happen.”
“Miracles? What kind of miracles?”
“While she’s small the changes on Earth will be minor, involving only things and lives around her, but as she ages, things will change dramatically.”
“If I had stayed I could have been a part of that?”
“If you were open to it.”
“But you said her spirit could change lives. Why not mine?”
“It could have had you let it. One wise old spirit like Madelyn can offset the negativity of hundreds of thousands. Earth desperately needs these loving, giving and wise spirits or young spirits would all self-destruct.”
“Young spirits, like me?”
“We all have to start somewhere.” Polly giggled.
“And Madelyn will teach people?”
“She will. An old spirit can help new spirits grow at rapid rates, restore Mother Earth, bring families together, heal human bodies, and change the future.”
“I guess Madelyn won’t miss me then?”
“That’s hard to answer,” Polly said as she adjusted the bow on top of her head. “Because I know Mattie will help many people while she’s there, but her real goal left with you.” She stood up, pulled back the comforter and handed Emma a silk nightgown. “It’s been a very long day, maybe you’d better rest.”
“I’m very tired.” Emma changed and crawled in between the sheets, Charlie purring by her side.
Polly tucked them in and kissed Emma’s forehead. “Good-night, honey. Get some rest. Tomorrow will be a very busy day.”
“Thank you. You’ve made me feel so welcome here.”
“You are, honey, you are. We love you very much. Get some rest and I’ll see you in the morning.”