Between A Rock And A Dead Place
By: Melissa A. Matthews
Tags: Mysticism, Culture, Spirituality, Fiction, Short Story

A week later, the rain came and it came hard. She whistled in the wind and all of the yellow flyers that had been scattered around the shrine, seem to magically form a mat. She stepped on lightly tapping one foot, flapping her skirt with her hands in a bird-like motion. Thunder came. She danced harder. Lightning hit the old telephone pole. She danced harder and harder. The flyers began to swirl around her. Yellow is the color of Oshun. They tapped her on her arms and flew back. On her forehead and then blew away. On her feet and were whist away by the powerful rains. The raindrops seemed to be ripping at her clothes like hands. As if Oshun herself had rendered her naked. She kept dancing to the rhythm of thunder and lightning. Her eyes were shut tightly. Her body convulsed by instinct. She lost control. The vagrant who’d been sleeping nearby got up and began running.

The power of the rain and the dance forced her to the ground. Swirling around her were the faces of her ancestors and her dead. She reached for Juno and Abuelo, they were out of reach. She reached for Julie’s dead cat, Mrs. Whiskers. That was the last thing she remembered before collapsing.

Awakening from what felt like a year’s long slumber, she stretched her limbs. Something felt different. Opening her eyes with arms stretched out in front of her, she was confounded. Was this her arm? A frail long thing, grey-tinted fur with irregular lighter grey patches — this was strange yet familiar. Mrs. Whiskers! Her spirit was inside of Mrs. Whiskers! The Orishas obviously had a wicked sense of humor, she thought. She screamed in both horror and delight of being alive but as a cat.

The screeching noise she made seem to send other nearby felines into a frenzy. She was not yet ready to associate with other cats. She wondered how many of them had prayed to Oshun for rebirth. Quickly, she gathered herself. Running a paw over her face, then her tail. It was time to test out this new body. She ran far and hid out of sight to lose the gaggle of cats that seem to be investigating where she came from. She was suddenly starving. Where could she get food?

Abuela always fed stray cats — -people too. Her grandparents’ home was not too far from Lennox and fifth. Just a long trek down Lennox to the very last corner before the cemetery. She started walking in that direction. This body was strange. She was suddenly very limber. She found herself running before long. Everything seemed so big, especially Mr. Mendoza’s pit bull, Rosie. They lived on the corner of Juniper and Lennox just before Abuela’s block. She bolted past.

At the bottom of Abuela’s stoop, the aroma of Abuela’s famous black beans wafted beneath the door. Her nose grabbed hold of it and led her right up to the top step. She started to press her face against the door but something — -a strong wind — -picked her up and slammed her onto the sidewalk. She was stunned. Her ears perked up, she unwittingly growled and attempted to shake off the pain. Like a predator stalking its prey, she stepped lightly onto each step. Just as she placed her paw on the first step — Pow! It happened again, this time it was harder. She cried loudly as she looked longingly at the door.

It was then and only then that she noticed the Eshu or Elegba heads decorating Abuela’s door. She couldn’t believe that she’d forgotten how Abuelita had Julie add extra protection around her house after Abuelo passed. She would say a prayer upon entering and leaving every day that Elegba would protect her from any foul energy or wayward spirits. “Wait! A minute!” her mind raced. Was she now a wayward spirit? Is this what Abuela meant when she used to say “ten cuidado por lo que rezas?” It now bandied about her mind “Be careful what you pray for!” Over and over! She wanted to run away but she couldn’t move. She whimpered, sheepishly at first and then loudly. She attempted to move her back legs but Elegba had done a number on her.

She just wanted to be free — to vanish from this world. She licked her wounded body for what seemed like an eternity. Until he showed up. She knew this kid. He was a strange kid that moved into the neighborhood a few years back. They’d never spoken but Abuela was convinced he was a part of some weird cult. He was a few years her senior but he didn’t hang on the block with the other guys. You could hear him chanting in some foreign language loudly if you listened closely from the street. There wasn’t much room for weird in a place like this. The neighborhood had a way of strangling your individuality. That’s probably why she never even tried to talk to him before. Rico and John would have roasted her but she was grateful to see him now.

He picked her up gently and stroked her face. He walked her to the 24-hour vet across the downtown bus line. “Who even does these things for stray cats?” She thought. The irony of the question was not lost on her. None of the other dudes from the neighborhood would ever be caught dead doing something like this. He was different. He waited and stroked her as the vet injected her with painkillers and bandaged her up.

As they walked out of the vet center, the city came alive before them. They walked — -with him still carrying her — -toward the neighborhood. They walked a route she’d never seen before. Right into the bright lights and rides of one of those temporary carnivals. Daddy would always promise to take her and Julie to those things but they never made it. It didn’t seem so impressive from her present vantage point but what did she know. He stopped, bought some tokens, and walked right onto an empty Ferris wheel cart as if it had been waiting for them. She covered her eyes with her paws and cowered in his hands. Apparently, becoming a cat doesn’t cure a fear of heights. He let her sink into his lap. He talked to her. “Look!” he said “we can walk right through the carnival to the back of my house, the garage — -your new home! Maybe we’ll get a slice on the way!” This was the first time she’d heard him speak. His voice was deeper than she imagined. He was way more excited than she was at this prospect but getting off of this contraption would be a relief.

When the ride ended, she was lifted again. The kid slid her body onto a soft pile of clothing among the boxes in the garage. He pulled an old coat over the top, creating a cave that emanated the sweetness of old ladies who frequently powdered themselves — a light rose motif that played ironically well in the deep recesses of Rainbow’s ancestral brain. The pizza kid lifted her head to help her lap water from a hubcap. He broke bits of pepperoni and crust into bite-sized pieces and left them where her tongue could reach them. Much later, she heard him practicing his orations like songs. Like monks chanting in the distance, they were a comfort.

Pizza kid would be what she called him from now on. He always seemed to have bits of it to share. His chanting had started to remind her of Abuela and Mommy’s church — it felt like a piece of home. In the daytime, she would saunter past Abuela’s house to catch a glimpse of her but never get close enough to trigger the protection. Pizza kid had nursed her back to health. She was grateful. His companionship was more gentle and loving than she’d experienced in her sixteen years but she knew she couldn’t stay. Every day she found a reason to stay until the next day, but then one day, on her daily stroll past Abuela’s she saw Julie.