Black Cat

by V. C. Andrews

  her, the more she resented her. Betsy harbored all

  sorts of ridiculous suspicions. I thought.

  "I know exactly what your mother's up to," she

  told me one afternoon after she had just had another

  argument with her father and Mama had interceded on

  her behalf .She came charging out of the house and

  found me stacking some kindling wood.

  "What are you talking about now?" I took off

  my gloves and wiped the sweat off the back of my

  neck.

  "I'm talking about how she makes herself look

  so good and pure to my father just so hell hate me

  more "

  "That's not true. She's just trying to keep him

  from getting sick over the things you do." I put my

  gloves back on.

  "Oh. brother. You'd defend her no matter what.

  You know what?" she said, with her eyes as mean and

  cold as she could make them. I turned my back on her

  and started on the wood again, but she seized my

  shoulder to spin me around. "I said, you know what?" "What?"

  "People don't just think you're weird or gay.

  They think you and your mother have an unnatural

  relationship."

  I wanted to reach out and slap her because it was as if she had just slapped me. I couldn't help the

  rush of blood to my face. It brought a smile to hers. "Did I hit a sensitive area. Noble man? Is there

  some truth to the rumors? Maybe Daddy wouldn't be

  so devoted to your mother if he 'clew, huh?" "Shut up," I snapped, and with the small hatchet

  in my hand I started toward her with such fury that

  she backed away,

  "Don't you touch me. Don't you even think of

  it," she warned, but for the first time, from behind a

  cracked wall. "That's all you have to do. I'll make up

  stories about you," she threatened. "I will. I'll tell

  everyone you tried to rape me or something." I shook my head and retreated. It restored her

  courage, so she stepped toward me again.

  "You know. Elliot told me about the time he let

  you spy on me."

  The blood that had risen to my face dropped to

  my feet. I kept my back to her.

  "He brought you into his room and let you look

  through that hole in his wall. Go on, try to deny it. I'd

  like to hear what you say."

  I continued to stack the wood. I'll do what she

  does. I thought. Ill pretend she's not there. pretend I

  don't hear her.

  "I didn't care. I was actually flattered. Did you

  get a good eyeful? Did it make you excited? Did you

  fantasize about me and play with yourself? I like to

  think a lot of boys did and still do. Was I your first

  naked girl? What's the matter, the cat got your fat

  tongue? You're not so brave now, are you? Does your

  precious mother, who thinks you're so perfect, know

  about all that?"

  Whatever angle I turned, she moved to stand in

  front of me. "Leave me alone," I said, practically

  begged. Her smile widened,

  "You can't believe he told me. huh? He did it to

  get even with me for something, and I surprised him

  by not getting angry about it Who do you think is

  prettier, me or your mother?"

  "That's a really stupid question."

  "Oh, is that so? Why is it stupid? Because you

  can't appreciate any other woman? Is that the reason?" "No!" I screamed at her. "1 can't!"

  She looked shocked. I hadn't meant to say that

  like that and she could never understand what it was I

  was saying anyway. How could she understand why I

  couldn't appreciate any other woman the way she

  expected I should?

  "You are sick," she said, wagging her head and stepping back. "I'm getting out of here soon, getting away from all of you. You'll see. You'll all see and you can have Daddy to yourselves." She turned and

  marched back to the house.

  Good riddance. I thought. The sooner you

  leave, the better it will be. I had no doubt she would

  leave and soon, but not before she was to wreak some

  more havoc on what her father had hoped would be a

  happy home, a new start.

  It came first with the news that she had

  managed to get failing grades in every subject in

  which she had enrolled at the community college. My

  assistance in math hadn't helped her with the class

  because she didn't understand or try to understand any

  of the homework I had done. Her teacher knew pretty

  quickly that she was having someone else do the

  work, and like every other time she was exposed as a

  liar or a deceiver, she simply shrugged it off or made

  it look and sound like nothing of any importance. Dave got the news first from one of her

  teachers at the college who came to his pharmacy for

  medication, and then he learned about her failures

  from the official college mailing that he read. His

  confrontation with Betsy over it came to a head in a

  storm of rage that threatened to blow out the very walls of our house. In the midst of that. I heard what people called the eye of the storm, the silence right

  before a hurricane resumes.

  I had been outside most of the afternoon. I saw

  Dave return from work. He had gone into the store

  early and was off. He had the mail in his hands,

  waved to me, and went into the house. A little more

  than an hour later. Betsy drove in, her radio blaring as

  usual, the car spitting up dust as she tore up part of the

  driveway and jerked it into the spot behind Dave's car. It was late fall now. The days were shorter, the

  afternoons especially abbreviated. Years of

  experience in nature told me that the cooler breezes

  were foretelling an early winter. There were years

  when it actually snowed hard in October and the

  temperatures dropped to below freezing quickly. I put all my tools away carefully and started

  toward the house. As I walked, I remembered my dog.

  Cleo, and how he had enjoyed following me about

  everywhere and how I enjoyed having him at my

  heels. He had filled the dark holes of loneliness and

  made my life here more than just bearable. Maybe I

  should get Mama to let me have another dog. I

  thought, but then I thought it would be heartbreaking

  if she came to harbor the same suspicions she had of

  Cleo. I was really beginning to feel sorry for myself.

  Despite the brave and indifferent front I put up

  between myself and Betsy, her continual criticism,

  sarcasm, and challenges were having an effect. I could

  feel myself breaking down. I had come close to losing

  my temper a number of times since her accusations

  about me and Mama. I was tired of her lording over

  me, threatening to do this and that to cause Mama to

  get angry. If anything now. I was beginning to resent

  Mama's defense of her, especially her understanding

  and tolerance. Why was she closing her eyes to the

  harmful and damaging effect Betsy was having on all

  of us, especially Dave?

  Before I reached the porch. I could hear his

  shouting. I would quickly learn that he had rushed up

  to her room after he had opened the le
tter from the

  college informing him and her that she had been

  dropped from the college rolls. None of us knew that

  she had been dropped from two classes because she

  had simply not shown up enough times, and

  apparently she had been called into the dean of

  students' office twice to discuss her situation. All the

  promises she had made, she had broken.

  I opened the front door and entered, listening to the litany of charges and complaints Dave was shouting at her up in her room. I closed the door softly and walked down to the living room. Mama was sitting in the rocker with Baby Celeste on her lap, her head against Mama's breast, her eyes opened. She looked to be listening as well. Mama didn't turn to me. She kept gazing out the window, her face remarkably

  at peace, actually caught in a beautiful glow. Dave had left Betsy's bedroom door open so it

  was impossible not to hear every word.

  "Why did you even start this if you knew you

  weren't going to do it properly? Just to get me to buy

  you a car? Was that it. Betsy?"

  "No," we heard.

  "Then why? Why? To make a fool of me?" "I don't have to do anything to make a fool of

  you. You do enough yourself," she fired back. There was a moment of silence.

  Mama's smile widened. Why?

  I thought he would just walk out and slam

  Betsy's door. but I didn't hear any footsteps.

  "What do you intend to do with yourself now,

  Betsy?" he finally asked her, his voice quivering. "I don't know. I have other problems, bigger

  problems." What could they be? I wondered. Mama turned her head slowly toward me and

  our eyes met. Baby Celeste was looking my way, too. "What bigger problems?" Dave. asked Betsy. "It's not my fault. It's your fault!" she shouted. "Excuse me? What are you talking about now.

  Betsy? What's my fault?" I turned toward the stairway

  and listened hard.

  "Those pills you gave me. They didn't work.

  They were probably old or something."

  "What? You mean... are you talking about the

  birth control pills?"

  "What other pills did you give me, Daddy?" Another silence made the air in the house

  heavy.

  "My God," Dave said finally. "Not again?" "Its your fault!" she screamed. "You probably

  gave me samples or something that was no good

  anymore."

  "You neglected them? You had unprotected sex

  and neglected to take your pills? Is that what you're

  saying?"

  "No! Look," she screamed. "See. I followed

  directions. See, every pill I was supposed to take, I

  took."

  I looked back at Mama. She was smiling now.

  The pills I had dropped, I thought. "Mama?" "Take the baby. Noble, and get her cleaned up

  for dinner. I have to get started on it," she said, rising

  from the chair.

  I heard the door slam upstairs and a moment

  later Dave's footsteps on the stairway. He descended

  like someone going to his own funeral, his head

  down, his shoulders slumped. I took Baby Celeste's

  hand and started for the stairway. He paused and

  looked at me., and when he did. I saw such pain in his

  eyes, my own heart closed like a fist in my chest. His

  face was white with shock and agony. He just shook

  his head and continued down the stairs. He knew, of

  course. that we had heard the whole argument

  between him and Betsy.

  Betsy's door was shut tight. I took Baby Celeste

  into the bathroom and helped her wash up and fix her

  hair. She loved to brush her own hair now and was

  very aware of how she looked, her clothes and shoes. Betsy did not come down for dinner. Dave ate

  sparingly. Mama continually urged him to eat and not

  get himself sick over the situation.

  "We'll do what we have to do, Dave," she said,

  putting her hand over his.

  He nodded. "I'm sorry. Sarah. It wasn't supposed to be like this. I wasn't supposed to be

  bringing you new and bigger problems."

  "For better or for worse," Mama recited. "In

  sickness and in health."

  He smiled and looked a bit cheered. She threw

  me a glance that made me shudder a little. It was more

  like a conspiratorial glance. What did she think I

  knew or understood? I really felt sorry for Dave. and I

  was beginning to feel that I was part of some great

  betrayal. Even though I had no sympathy or love. for

  Betsy, I hated seeing him so distraught and defeated. After we ate, Mama prepared a dish and told

  me to take it upstairs to see if Betsy would eat. You don't have to do that. Sarah," Dave said.

  "She's old enough to know to come down if she wants

  something to eat. 'We're not going to cater to her

  anymore, not now."

  "We won't," Mama assured him, "but we can't

  let her neglect her health. Dave, especially now, now

  can we?"

  He had to nod, to admit she was right, take it up

  to her."

  "No. Noble can do it Besides, she might not

  open the door for you. She's in a funk. She's actually

  just embarrassed and feeling very guilty, and the sight

  of you only reminds her of her own failing." "You're probably right about that, Sarah. Your

  mother is much wiser than I am. Noble. Maybe. she

  does get good advice from a higher source."

  Mama smiled and then looked firmly at me. I

  didn't want to have anything to do with Betsy. but I

  took the plate upstairs and knocked on her door. "I have some food for you." I said when she

  didn't respond.

  I expected she wouldn't answer and I would just

  turn and bring the food downstairs, but to my surprise,

  she opened the door abruptly. She was standing there

  in her bra and panties.

  "You're just gloating, aren't you? You and your

  mommy," she accused. I shook my head. "No, of

  course not. by should we gloat?"

  "That's all right. I've got a big surprise for all of

  you." She turned back to her closet. She plucked a

  blouse off the rack and slipped it on, turning to smile

  at me as she buttoned up. ''You like watching a girl

  get dressed?"

  "I came up here to give you this." I nodded at

  the plate. "Do you want it or not?"

  She looked at the food. "I'm sick of the food

  your mother makes. Nothing is normal. I bet you've never had a piece of pizza." She turned and found a

  pair of jeans to put on.

  "So you don't want it?" I asked, tired of her

  quips and nasty remarks. "You are bright," she said,

  sitting to put on her shoes.

  I glanced to her right and saw a suitcase. 'Mat

  are you doing?"

  "What am I doing? I'm getting a life, getting

  away from this insane asylum." "How can you leave?"

  I asked, more curious than happy about it.

  "Watch me and you'll get the idea. Maybe

  someday you'll wake up, realize you're becoming

  weirder and weirder, and you'll leave yourself,

  although I have big doubts. After all, how can you

  stop reading children's books and talking to

  shadows?"

  She smiled at the expression on my face. "Oh,

  you didn't know I overheard you whispering out there

  sometimes, did you? Or
that I put my ear to your door

  and heard you talking to no one. You're crazy, aren't

  you? Do you see dead people?" she asked. laughing.

  "I know your mother thinks she does. Everyone

  knows about that.

  "Which," she added, running a brush through

  her hair, "makes me wonder what the hell my father

  was thinking when he asked her to marry him." "You just can't run away. You have a big

  problem to solve."

  "Big problem?"

  "We heard. We couldn't help but hear the way

  you were screaming at your father."

  "Oh, so you're worried about me. Noble man?

  Well, don't," she snapped, and tossed her brush onto

  the vanity table. "I don't need your help or your

  mother's or my father's either."

  She scooped up her suitcase.

  "'Where are you going?"

  "Away," she sang.

  "By yourself.'"

  "No, not by myself, stupid. I met someone

  who's fun to be with."

  "You mean Roy?"

  "No, not Roy. Roy is too in love with himself

  and his glory as a college star. He's not going

  anywhere."

  "But... who

  "Baby? You want to know whose baby I have

  inside me? Well, that's for me to know and you to

  wonder about." She laughed, "Don't look so surprised.

  It makes you look even dumber than you are. Here, I

  changed my mind. Give me the food."

  She reached out and with her free hand took the

  plate from me.

  "This is what I think of your mother's cooking."

  She dumped it on the floor. Then she pushed past me

  and started down the stairs, her suitcase banging

  against the balustrade. Dave came out of the living

  room and saw her descending.

  "Where do you think you're going now?" he

  demanded. "Away from here!" she shouted, and

  opened the front door. I watched from the top of the

  stairway.

  "Betsy, don't you dare leave this house," Dave

  warned. "I mean it. If you run off now with all these

  problems. I won't help you. I won't send you money. I

  won't--"

  'Don 't... " she screamed, her eyes bulging.

  "Stay here and die." She stepped out and slammed the

  door so hard the house shook.

  Dave lowered his head like a flag of defeat. I

  came dawn the stairs slowly and Mama came out of

  the kitchen, wiping her hands on a dish towel. She

  looked at Dave, who stood by the closed front door,

  and then she looked up at me. She was smiling. And that smile turned my blood to ice.