The Cat Who Got Married

by Neil S. Plakcy

  “And then there was secretarial school,” she said.

  After our graduation from Guilderland Regional High, Louise Ann and I had enrolled in secretarial school, in a nice office building in downtown Albany, just a few blocks away from the Capitol buildings. We got dressed up every morning and took the bus in, and sat in boring lectures for hours, just like we had done in high school. I was not impressed.

  My worst class was shorthand. I never could remember what all those little squiggles meant, so I just drew what I felt while the teacher dictated. When she saw my work, though, she was not pleased. “Now, this will just not do, Ima Jean,” she had said. “What if you feel differently when you have to transcribe this shorthand than you felt when you took it? Why, then, all the words would come out different.”

  I did not graduate from secretarial school. My Aunt Rose Maria said if I disliked it all that much, why, then I might as well not go, so I dropped out. Louise Ann completed her certificate, and got a job at GE in Schenectady. That’s where she met Jay Tucker, who delivered office supplies.

  Louise Ann always lorded it over me that she had finished secretarial school and met Jay Tucker and I had gone to work as a waitress. I was not cut out for the service industries, though, and after a number of unsuccessful jobs I had just plain stopped working.

  Aunt Rose Maria had plenty of money put aside, and every now and then I was a temporary file clerk if I wanted to buy something special.

  Clayton came over as Louise Ann and I were drinking hot cocoa with just a splash of the chocolate liqueur Aunt Rose Maria had kept in the kitchen cupboard for emergencies and when we got very chilled. He had put on some weight since we had last seen each other. He was always a big-boned boy, but he was positively fleshy when he came in out of the snowy cold to Aunt Rose Maria’s living room.

  We talked about what kind of funeral Aunt Rose Maria would want. What were her favorite hymns, and did she have a favorite dress and all that. I honestly did not know. I guess you never really know a person until you have to bury them, and of course by then it’s too late. We never discussed it, not like those people who sit around and tell you they want their eyes and their liver donated and you should pull the plug on them if it goes on too long. Aunt Rose Maria had never had a day’s trouble in her life, so dying had never occurred to her.

  Louise Ann and I went through her closet and picked out a nice pink dress she had bought last Christmas, and shoes and underwear. We gave it to Clayton and he said I should come by the next day and look into coffins and services and such. I thanked him kindly and said I would be on by.

  “Now, will you be all right by yourself, Ima Jean?” Louise Ann asked. “I do hate to leave you like this. Would you like to come to supper with us? I don’t know what in the world we’re going to have, look at the time, Jay Tucker will be home soon and wondering what all is going on. You could sleep on our fold out bed if you want­­ Jay’s brother sleeps there on occasion and he says it’s very comfortable.”

  “No, I’ll be all right here. You go on home. I wouldn’t want Jay Tucker to be wondering about his supper.”

  Jay had gotten himself a new job as a salesman for a line of Japanese copiers and he was doing very well. He and Louise Ann bought a ranch house with three bedrooms out on the road to Slingerlands and she stopped work to concentrate on the decorating. I figured that selling copiers couldn’t be too hard if Jay Tucker could do it and I thought of looking into it, but I remembered how many buttons and dials those things had and then I thought better of the idea.

  It was kind of strange and lonely in the house once Louise Ann had left, without Aunt Rose Maria around singing in the kitchen and the TV blasting a game show in the living room, but I figured I had better get used to it. “I suppose I ought to tell Momma if I can find her,” I said out loud. I hunted up Aunt Rose Maria’s address book, but Momma wasn’t in there, not even in pencil. I thought about calling people, but that made me tired and sad and I just gave up. Let them read about it in the newspaper, I thought. I did call my Aunt Dolores in Miami, because since Aunt Rose Maria was her sister I thought she ought to know, and it was doubtful that she would get her hands on an Albany Times-Union down there in Florida.

  “Oh, my poor darlin,” she wailed when I got her on the phone. “I’ll have to come on up for the funeral, I guess. And it’s so cold up there, now. You know, I look in on the weather channel every now and then and I see how cold it is in Albany and I thank my lucky stars I had the good sense to move to a more temperate climate.”

  She had lost track of my Momma as well. “Have you called your Uncle Luther?” she asked. “He was always the one of the boys your Momma liked best. She might have kept in touch with him.”

  I told her I hadn’t made many phone calls and once I gave her all the details I knew, she shouldered that burden herself. I gave her Clayton’s phone number and she said she would be in touch.

  I saw Clayton the next day. He was two years older than Louise Ann and me, but he had always been sweet on me. I was a very pretty girl in high school-- as a matter of fact I was Tulip Queen in my junior year. I thought of becoming a model but I had given that up when I went to secretarial school. In recent days, though, I had been wondering if I was past my prime or if there might still be a career there for me. Or failing that, I might go and become one of those girls at the mall that works at the cosmetics counter and makes up your face for you. I was always good at that. I had discussed it with Aunt Rose Maria just a day or two before she died, and we thought that the opening of the mall might mean new opportunities in the field.

  I took care of all the paperwork with Clayton­­ that is, he asked me questions and he took care of things. “You’re very kind, Clayton,” I said. “I can see you’re very good at this.”

  “Well, thank you, Ima Jean. I wish you could see clear to calling me Clay.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “But when I say Clay I think of dirt, and then that reminds me of your profession so you see I just couldn’t.”

  In the afternoon I went downtown to see the lawyer who had drawn up Aunt Rose Maria’s will. She left everything to me, which was very kind of her, except for a gold and diamond broach she had left to Aunt Dolores. We had often discussed that broach­­ it belonged to my grandmother, and she passed it on to Aunt Rose Maria, who wore it on special occasions like holidays and christenings and funerals. Aunt Dolores had always coveted that broach. I had wanted to pin it on Aunt Rose Maria and bury her with it, but it was out of my hands.

  Clayton was very helpful, and he came over to the house every night to ask me questions or make suggestions. It was very confusing. “I’m just not sure what his intentions are,” I told Louise Ann three days later, after yet another visit from Clayton. “I mean, does he like me, or are these the courtesies of his profession?”

  “Ima Jean, he can’t go over to every dead person’s family every darned night,” she said. “Can you imagine? He’d be so frazzled by the time he got done he wouldn’t know a dead person from a live one.”

  “And another thing,” I said. “He comes by after dinner, so I never know quite what to offer him.” Besides the chocolate liqueur, which I wanted to hold in reserve for chilly evenings, Aunt Rose Maria had some brandy but she kept that aside for special occasions, like fainting spells. Aunt Dolores was prone to those so I thought I’d better keep the brandy in reserve. Louise Ann suggested microwave popcorn and even passed on a coupon to me.

  The night before the actual funeral Clayton came over with nothing more on his mind than to see me and make sure I knew when the limousine would be coming by to pick me up. Aunt Dolores was coming in on a morning flight and meeting us at the home, so it would be just me and Louise Ann in the limousine. “If you have a shorter one you could send it by,” I told him. “I don’t need that real long one just for me and Louise Ann.”

  “I’ll just send it on by. Maybe Louise Ann’s momma will want to go, or someone else will just drop by and you’ll want to offer th
em a ride.”

  We sat on the couch in the living room eating popcorn.

  Clayton’s intentions became clear to me when he reached around and put his hand on my breast, and tried to nuzzle up against my neck. “Clayton, please,” I said. “This is a house of mourning. Show some respect.”

  “I’m sorry, Ima Jean,” he said, straightening up.

  “And don’t you have some professional ethics or something that says you should not make advances on the dearly beloved, at least not until the dead person is in the ground?”

  “I’m sorry, Ima Jean. You know I like you. I hope I haven’t offended you.”

  “No, it’s all right, Clayton. I’m just still upset about Aunt Rose Maria.” I also thought that his fingertips had left some butter on my breast, and I wanted him to leave so I could wash it off.

  He left a little later, after reminding me again about the limousine and making sure I had a black dress to wear. “Me and Louise Ann went over to the Sherwood Dales and picked one out the other day,” I said. “Aunt Rose Maria and I went over there on the opening but we didn’t get to see much on account of her dying so soon after we walked in. They have a little area that they call the Forest Court, where there are all these fast food places, and everybody can get what they want and you can all sit together underneath some fake trees. It’s very nice.”

  “Maybe we can go there sometime,” he said.

  “I’ll think about it,” I said as he walked to the door. “It’s very kind of you to ask.”

  He was the soul of courtesy and politeness the next day at the funeral. Even Aunt Dolores remarked on it, though she complained the whole time about how cold it was in Albany. “I swear, I don’t see why anybody with a lick of sense doesn’t leave this place behind and relocate to a warmer climate.”

  She slipped on the ice outside the Durning funeral home but fortunately the only thing that got bruised was her dignity.

  “Now, Ima Jean,” Aunt Dolores said when we were back at the house after the burial. It was a bitter cold day, and we had just stayed long enough to see the coffin start to drop down into the ground on those little conveyor belts they have. She rode back to the house with me and Louise Ann, and a bunch of neighbors came over to pay their respects. Louise Ann was in the kitchen taking care of things.

  I tried to bake some of Aunt Rose Maria’s chocolate drop cookies the night before, after Clayton left, but I did something wrong and the chocolate was all gooey. It kept sticking to your front teeth, so I could see who had tried them and who hadn’t.

  “Now, Ima Jean, what are you going to do up here?” Aunt Dolores asked. “You don’t have a job, do you?”

  I shook my head. I told her I had thought about being a cosmetics lady at the mall, but I hadn’t really looked into it yet.

  “Well, maybe you ought to come down to Florida and visit with me for a little while.” She smiled and smoothed out her dress.

  There was an idea. It was awfully cold in Albany that time of year, and though I had never been to Florida I had heard that they had palm trees and you could go out to the beaches year round. I wondered how I would look with a nice tan. It had been a long time since I had color in my cheeks.

  “I think that’s a terrific idea, Ima Jean,” Louise Ann said. She always thought other people had terrific ideas. When Jay proposed she probably said, “I think that’s a terrific idea, Jay Tucker.”

  “Since your Uncle Buddy died I’ve been by myself down there,” Aunt Dolores said. “And since you’re all alone up here maybe it would be nice for us to be together.”

  I thought of Aunt Dolores down there under the palm trees by herself, getting a good tan, and I said, “I just might do that, Aunt Dolores.” I wondered what Clayton Durning would say about me going all that way down south and getting nice and bronzed.

  He could use a little color himself, and he certainly had enough skin to tan. His face was very pale, like he spent all his time indoors. You would think what with going out to funerals all the time he would at least get some sun once in a while.

  I said I really needed to think on it some, and Aunt Dolores said the invitation was open. For herself, she was going back home the next day, because what with her arthritis, she really couldn’t stay up north for too long during the winter. She spent the night in Aunt Rose Maria’s room, and I took her to the airport the next morning.

  Once she was gone I realized I didn’t have much to do. With the funeral over, my calendar was pretty clear, though there was a possible date with Clayton on the horizon. If we went back to the Forest Court, I thought, I wanted to try the barbecued chicken wings. Louise Ann had thought they were too extravagant for someone in mourning, so we both had salads. On a whim, I drove over to the Sherwood Dales to see what kind of cosmetics counters they had.

  There was a counter in each of the two department stores, and one whole store in the mall devoted to perfumes and make-ups. The girls who worked there looked very pretty and I didn’t know if I would fit in. I decided I would get made up there and see what I could find out.

  The girl who made me up was named Elaine, and she wasn’t too friendly, though I tried to get her talking. Mostly she just wanted to put on the makeup and try and sell me things. She said they had just hired a lot of girls when the store opened and as far as she knew they weren’t looking for anybody else. I got the feeling she thought they wouldn’t ever hire me. I was about to tell her I had been the Tulip Queen at Guilderland Regional High, but since she was from up by Ticonderoga I figured she wouldn’t know what an honor it was.

  I didn’t feel any better once I was all made up­­ as a matter of fact, I felt worse. So I went over to Louise Ann’s house to talk to her and wash it all off. We talked about the new curtains she had ordered and looked at fabric pieces to see what she should cover the sofa in, but I couldn’t concentrate. “Well, you’re awful antsy today, Ima Jean,” she said. “I think you should just ought to go to Florida, then, because you just won’t be happy here.”

  I did not agree with Louise Ann. Sometimes she says things that are just stupid. I had been happy in Albany before Aunt Rose Maria had died, and though I did love her I had never felt that my happiness was dependent on her being around. When I got home, I put on my best dress, and the kind of makeup I liked, and I looked at myself in the mirror.

  “Ima Jean Douberly,” I said to my reflection. “You are 23 years old, you have a nice figure and beautiful skin, no matter what that Elaine thought. You have to make your own way in the world now. You can’t rely on Aunt Rose Maria, and you certainly can’t rely on Louise Ann Calderone Tucker. And you can’t marry a man who has more jelly rolls on him than a whole bakery, so just forget about Clayton Durning, too. There is a world beyond Albany New York and you are going to go out and conquer it.”

  I felt very good dressed up like that. I decided it was time I got out more, and I wondered if Aunt Dolores knew any nice young guys in Miami. I called up right then and made my plane reservations, and then just when the girl had me all booked through I changed my mind. If I went to visit Aunt Dolores, I would probably just hang around her house and work on my tan, and that would not get me much farther than staying in Albany under a sun lamp. “I’m changing my mind,” I told the girl. “Please book me a ticket to Los Angeles, California.”

  “Do you want to go by way of Chicago or St. Louis?” she asked.

  We had studied St. Louis in high school and I knew they had a big arch there that was supposed to represent the opening up of the west. So I said, “St. Louis,” and she gave me my confirmation number.

  I went to the Triple A and got a whole lot of information on Los Angeles, and I bought a guidebook at a bookstore at the Sherwood Dales. Hollywood was in Los Angeles, spelled out with that big sign on the hills, and I thought I might find myself some kind of job and see about getting into the movies. I knew if it didn’t work out I could always come back to Albany, or go to Miami. I would probably come back to Albany sometime anyway, just to show Loui
se Ann what had become of me, and maybe to see Aunt Rose Maria, too.

  I bought myself some new clothes, and I was dressed to the nines when I caught that plane. I sat back in my seat as the wheels left the ground and I felt the lift, and I knew then that my life was starting and that I was the only one who could do anything about it. Me, Ima Jean Douberly.

  Before my flight to California left the Albany airport, I had my mother paged over the loudspeaker. “Thelma Douberly, please meet your party at the information counter at the entrance to concourse C,” the announcer said. I told her I had gotten separated from my mother. I didn’t exactly say when.

  Of course my Momma didn’t answer the page. It was just a wild chance, but you never know. I just shrugged and told the announcer, “Maybe she went on ahead of me.” She smiled and told me to have a nice day. I did the same thing when the plane stopped at St. Louis, and then when I arrived in Los Angeles.

  I checked the phone books at the airport in St. Louis, just on the chance that my Momma might be listed. I even spent an afternoon at the LA public library, checking the phone books for Orange County and the San Fernando Valley, looking for family.

  I found a couple of Douberlys, and I even tried one, but the woman who answered was obviously black, and so I just hung up without really stating my business.

  I spent my first week in California by the hotel pool, working on my tan, and second week sightseeing. I went to Forest Lawn, and Disneyland, and Grauman’s Chinese, which is not called that any more for some reason I did not discover. I went on a tour of Hollywood studios, and to the beach at Santa Monica, where I watched a television commercial being filmed.

  I didn’t think the girl who was starring was very pretty-- certainly not as pretty as I am. After all, I was the tulip queen of Guilderland Regional High during my junior year. I was standing on the boardwalk watching the filming, and a man next to me said, “You interested in this kind of stuff?”