Short Story 9

(Be) Patient
Inkjet Print
28"x 85"

Bear was perched outside the shower, vigilant and silent as always. The black Bombay was a sleek, shiny and unappreciated guardian, especially by the one called James. He was in the shower, throwing around the filthy water as if it were a plaything and rubbing himself up and down.

 Bear wanted nothing to do with it, of course. He simply did his best to be where he was needed. The bathroom only had one door and Bear thought this was a marvelous innovation of room construction - not that he would tell anyone - because it allowed him to focus on one door and only one door, keeping himself between James and the nightfallen shroud in the room beyond.

The others were in the house somewhere, perhaps calling for Bear, wanting to rub his face and tempt him with various strings, but he was busy. This was not a service Bear took lightly, watching over the James, he had been keeping watch for years and was unknowingly proud of himself for a job well done – so far. The James, master of the house and keeper of the keys was worth saving and worth forgiving, even if he made more mistakes than he should. Bear held no reservations about the way humans treated each other, but this was about his own survival as well: the longer James was around, the easier Bear’s life was. It had been this way as long as Bear could remember and it did not strike him in any way but normal.

The man called James would never know of the shadow hanging over him, he would never know about how hard Bear had been fighting, but he was only Human and Bear did his best to understand. They all made mistakes. It was part of their nature.

Maybe it was the time of year, early December, but Bear felt especially compassionate for the James, he had no word for “love” but he felt it anyway. His duty to keep the family safe was not obligatory or assigned, but simply coincidental, or perhaps serendipitous. Christmas season always made the Humans put on smiles, but Bear never smiled. He kept a chill gaze over the world, looking for the shadow to reappear, waiting to swat at the things unseen and never to be seen. He would remain stoic in the face of changing seasons and changing times, keeping his warm feelings behind the enigmatic mask of his feline face.

James only ever picked up Bear to ask him what he was thinking, “What’s behind those eyes of yours, Bear?” He would mumble, holding Bear aloft by the soft parts under his forelegs, “Do you know what I’m saying to you?” Bear did, he always did, but he said nothing. James would stare into Bear’s yellow eyes for a long time, sometimes holding his breath and squinting, like Bear were an illusionary puzzle that would reveal its true nature in time. However, he was not. He would remain a simple family cat. James would put him down then, dragging his rough hands along Bear’s spine, smoothing out the now-frazzled fur from their awkward embrace, “Go find a mouse and kill it,” an instruction not worth following.

But sometimes the James did not understand and he would put Bear outside, these were bad nights for Bear. Of course he was ready - claws out and ears down - but he desperately wanted to go back inside, to keep watch and keep ready. The darkness was outside with him, but the Darkness was inside and the Humans could not see it. When these nights came, it was a battle of wills and this was a war of attrition. Bear would patrol and circle, looking for the opportunity to get back inside, but could he out-wait the Darkness? Was he more patient than the will of the night? He thought so, but he was not so sure anymore.

More and more often the James would put Bear outside, whether he was exiled out of frustration or simply because they thought he was better off outdoors, Bear did not know, but the ever-increasing frequency in which he was apart from the James was a sign of the end. In the way that strong winds brought the storm, Bear’s absence invited the bad times.