Mildred had accidentally agreed to sing at the church pageant an hour before. Unlike other notable individuals in the church, she had no particular talents in anything. Her poetry generally fell flat and lifeless, her acting skills were passable but by no means excellent, and her artistic talents left a lot to be desired. However, worst of all was her singing voice, a monstrosity that left anyone who heard it cringing.

Jenny knew that full well, the b****, when she placed Mildred in that position. She had batted her eyes rather sweetly as she handed out the assignments, before pausing on Mildred, her co-leader of the Sunday School session. “We couldn’t think of anything for you to do, so we added a song at the beginning that we’d like you to sing.”

“You want me to lead off the pageant by singing?” Mildred had asked, shocked. “Shouldn’t one of the children do it?”

“They’d mess up the words. Besides, we wanted someone from your family to pitch in as well.” Jenny knew full well that Mildred lived alone.

“But kids do that all the time, and everyone just laughs.”

“That’s because they’re kids, but for the national anthem, it’s a little different.”

“I can’t sing though.”

“Well, that’s why they say, ‘practice makes perfect.’ Besides, if you get up there and have the time of your life, people won’t care.”

“You should do it instead, Jenny.”

“Ah, I’d love to, but I can’t sing. Best of luck to you! And if you wanted, you could bring one of your cats, and then at least the people in the front row could be distracted. And for Heaven’s sake, would you smile even once, Mildred? It looks like you’re about to murder me.”

Jenny’s singing voice was beautiful.

Mildred still seethed thinking about the moment. She could not believe Jenny had said that, but as always, the best retorts came long after the conversation was over.

The grocery bags she was carrying through the short walk home bit at her hands, wanting to drag her down with them.

~ ~ ~

Everything about her screamed cat lady. Stooped shoulders shook under the weight of the grocery bags she carried, and her plaid sweater covered a curve-less form. Her gray hair was swept backward into a tight bun. Peeking through the thin plastic of the grocery bag was a can of cat-food and a package of catnip, along with a miniature scratching post and a toy mouse. She seemed like a bitter old lady, the kind of person life tried to crack and never managed to even bend.

Marian had stood on this street corner for about an hour, looking for someone suitable to approach today. She generally only had the courage to get rejected one time, so she spent a lot of effort looking for the right person. Living with a cat lady could be fun, Marian mused. Besides, she looked like the type of person to collect strays, and some could call Marian a stray.

She had one chance to make a good impression, and shoving back her insecurities, Marian ran up towards the cat lady and walked beside her. “How many cats do you have?”

The lady cast her a sideways glance and sighed. “Is it that obvious?”

“You’re carrying a bag of cat toys,” Marian supplied helpfully.

The woman gave her a side eye before shrugging her shoulders. “I’ve got three. What do you want?”

“Do you want any help carrying those bags?” Marian asked.

“Are you gonna run off and steal the stuff?”

“No ma’am. I just want to help you out because your hands are getting red.”

The cat lady sighed and shifted her grip on one of the bags before handing the lighter one to Marian. “Don’t run off with it,” she said, scanning Marian’s appearance as if ready to give a police report.

Marian nodded profusely, shivering beneath the woman’s gaze.

“Again, what do you want from me?” the cat lady asked.

Marian plucked up her courage. “I was wondering if you’d adopt me, like you adopt your cats.”

The other woman said nothing, so Marian blabbered on, hoping despite all odds that she could convince the cat lady. “I’m a hard worker, kind to everyone (especially animals). I can do chores, and I don’t complain. I don’t eat a lot, and I can share a room. I can help take care of cats, if you wanted.”

The cat lady did not seem impressed, and desperately, Marian continued to talk about herself. “I can mow the yard and clean dishes. I can write a little—I’ve written my own songs sometimes.”

“Songs?” the cat lady showed the first sign of interest. “Can you sing them?”

“Yes, I’m a good singer,” Marian said, with the unabashed straight-forwardness of youth. Before she left her all alone, her mother had always said she was good at singing.

“Can you sing the national anthem for me?” the cat lady asked, stopping in the middle of the street.

“Right here, right now?” Marian asked, glancing around the moderately busy street.

“Yes, right here.”

Confused, Marian nervously hummed the opening refrains to the National Anthem, trying to remember the words. Stumbling, she sang a faltering version of the song. The cat lady did not make a noise or movement until the song had been completed, after which she nodded and kept walking.

“It’s decent. You’ll need to learn the words better, but they won’t expect you to know them anyway. If I take you with me, I’ll only ask one thing of you, and that’s to come with me to church every Sunday and Wednesday evenings and to take care of your room. You will be expected to sing and work on developing your talent, and then later go to school.”

Marian leaped in delight. “Oh thank you, thank you, thank you!” she exclaimed. No more long nights shivering in the dark or having to hold others back with the knife she kept in her worn boots. To spend her childhood learning how to sing better held a certain kind of mystic appeal.

“What is your name?” the cat lady asked her, and she blushed, realizing she had not introduced herself.

“Marian,” she said.

“I’m Mildred.”

 

And for the first time, Marian wondered just how human her new home would be.