Previously On Cat Fight:
Sasha tries to end things with Jen, but the breakup turns violent fast. Jen attacks him—punching, clawing, and kicking—then speeds off screaming threats, leaving Sasha bloody, humiliated, and unsure if Olga saw it all unfold from the studio window.
At the park, Kendra sits catatonic, unresponsive and sweating, her blank stare alarming Estelle and every parent nearby. Fearing the worst, Estelle texts Olga and prepares to take Kendra home. When asked if she’s hungry, Kendra finally speaks—her voice eerie and flat: “Yes. I am very hungry.”
Chapter 56
Walt Hemmer’s shop was the smallest thing Freda had ever seen. Claustrophobic was Freda’s first thought.
The room was six feet by six feet with a back door in the middle of the wall across from the front door, a small counter on her right with what she assumed was an antique register. Freda wasn’t certain if the register was for sale or if it actually worked. Other than those two features, the walls were all bookshelves that reached from the floor to the seven-foot-high ceilings. There were shelves outlining the door too, and there wasn’t a single spot left on any shelf she could see.
Most of the books looked old and tattered. She read words like occult, possession, ancient wisdom, quantum physics, and science of mind, on the bindings. Most were illegible, having faded a long time ago. The place even smelled like old books.
“Be right with you,” said a voice from the back room.
“Ok.” Freda waited, her thumbs beneath the straps on her backpack, when she looked outside the glass front door. Her eyes narrowed, staring at the car across the street.
It looked like the same car Cecil had been driving.
“Can I help you?”
Freda jumped with a startle, turning around to the shop where she assumed Walt Hemmer was standing in the doorway. He was younger than Freda expected-she placed him in his forties-tall, and thin, wearing a thin white pullover shirt, matching pants and brown sandals. He had short blonde hair and blue eyes, and his jaw looked like it was chiseled from stone. He had a thin blonde beard, with a few red hairs peppered throughout.
“Yes, I was hoping to talk with Walt Hemmer.”
He cocked his head back, and his eyes narrowed, studying Freda with suspicion. He looked surprised that she asked for him by name. He rolled up his sleeves. “I’m Walt. What can I do for you?” He stepped behind the counter. “We’ve got just about every book you can think of.” Freda stepped to the counter and swung her backpack off her shoulder. “Are you doing a project for school? If so, I often allow students to read books if they leave a deposit in case something happens to it.”
Freda shook her head. “I’m not here for a school project.” She unzipped her backpack and pulled out the book, laying it on the counter in front of him. “Have you seen this book before?”
Walt looked like he’d been hit with an atom bomb, staring at the book like it was possessed. Feda noticed he took a step back. “Where did you get this?”
She took his business card from her pocket. “A friend found it in a brownstone where a murder had taken place.” She dropped his card on the front cover. “It had your card in it.”
Walt looked from the card to Freda, then back to the book, staring at it for a long while before he raised his stare to Freda. His brow knitted together. “What is this about?”
Freda paused, staring at Walt like a deer in headlights. She didn’t know where to begin. “A lot has happened since that murder.”
Now he tilted his head. “Like what?”
She was getting the impression that he didn’t care, and wanted nothing to do with what she was about to say, which she knew would sound like she’d lost her mind, but what was the alternative? Walt Hemmer was the only lead they had, so she just came right out and said it, rehashing how Joe and Bobby were called to the scene and had taken a beating at the hands of a nasty kitten. Told him about Bobby and Joe and the changes they were going through. Did you see the news about the guy who ate the girl’s face? And then about what happened to Mary.
All events that were tied to a kitten who they believed might be possessed, if that was even at all possible. Walt listened with the apt focus of a scholar, and all the while Freda could see that he was fitting the pieces to some puzzle in his own mind together, relating incidents only he was aware of with Freda’s new information.
She also told him about the changes Joe had described-of course she left out the part that the police were looking for him-and that the cat had been adopted and she was doing everything she could to contact the adoptive family. When she was finished, she felt like she’d run a marathon.
“So, my first question still stands. Do you recognize the book?”
Freda couldn’t read his reaction. To her best knowledge, he was either about to throw her out and run for his life, or, he believed every word she said and was mulling over how to deal with it.
He stepped closer to the counter and, for the first time, touched his fingertips to the cover. He looked like a man contemplating dire circumstances.
“Mr. Hemmer?” Freda’s voice died in her throat. She was at her wit’s end.
He nodded while lifting his stare to meet her eyes. Said, “I believe we need to have a long conversation.”
Chapter 57
Olga had always found solace while looking over the Hudson River. She would often come alone over the years, sitting for hours to process and contemplate and discover a sense of peace.
The same that she was doing now.
After Sasha left the studio, Olga heard a commotion in the parking lot and went to investigate when she saw Sasha and Jen arguing, followed by Jen’s unrelenting barrage of violence against her husband. Her heart stopped when Jen tore out of the parking lot. She was afraid Jen was going to run him over in a case of vehicular manslaughter, but she didn’t. Instead, she raced away, and Olga stood by the window, staring at her beaten and battered husband.
She actually felt sorry for him and that fact alone told her something about herself. She loved him, and considering what he’d done, she hated herself for it.
She couldn’t think in the studio-there were too many memories-so she came here to the Hudson River beside the tennis courts to take a long, good look at the river while contemplating life’s many mysteries. She even shut down her phone, not wanting to be disturbed, confident that the two people who would call her would understand. Estelle should be at the park with Kendra, and Sasha should be home by now to take Damien back to the shelter, so everyone that mattered was taken care of.
Olga needed the time to think. To get her head together and her thoughts straight. She didn’t know what the future would hold, and that scared the shit out of her. She wanted a divorce, but she also didn’t want Kendra to grow up in a broken home. The fact that Sasha broke off the relationship was an insight into his current mental state. Namely, that he wished to do the right thing and start over.
Could she forgive him? Of course, however, that doesn’t mean she has to be a fool and forget what happened, burying her head in the sand and turning a blind eye to his infidelity. Her primary fear was that he would do it again, sometime in the future, and then she’d really hate him and hate herself for staying with him.
The old, fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice, shame on me, adage kept looping through her mind.
She didn’t know what to do and reserved herself to take it day by day, hour by hour, and minute by minute. What she knew was that she didn’t want to go back to her house. Not yet anyway. This morning, the house felt cold and foreboding. Lonely too. The house that normally provided Olga with pride now seemed like a prison.
Every corner held a memory, and those memories were a deterrent to a rational mind. Don’t think about the past, think about the present and what it does to the future.
Olga knew her life-path just arrived at a fork in the road, and she wasn’t certain which way to go, although she knew that whatever path she chooses will have implications for the rest of their lives.
Can she be happy with Sasha again? She was certain she could, but would that happiness be reserved for simple moments in time, or would it be the common thread across the rest of their lives?
She didn’t know, and she wished that somehow someone else was responsible for the decision.
At least then, she could let go of the anxiety caused by guilt.
Olga looked up to the sun, her swollen eye seemed to itch even more with the sunlight on it, and her shoulder felt like it was tightening, crawling with infection and emitting putrid toxic fumes.
A stabbing pain rolled in her gut. Olga winced from the pain while gritting her teeth when she realized she hadn’t eaten today.
And she was getting hungry.
