My Darling Cat
By Lisa Kwan
Written for: The Writer's Tower
Theme: Love and Lost (March)
Deadline: 3rd April 2014
(Written on: 28th March 2014)
My darling Catherine,
I am
writing this in the hopes that somehow, somewhere, you might read this. I feel
that voice pods and recordings, or even holograms still do not hold the same
kind of intimacy that comes from a lovingly crafted handwritten letter, on soft
parchment carefully chosen, enclosing the faint fragrance of the writer’s
scent. Because I want you to know me, to remember me, to have a keepsake of me,
long after even the technology we know is gone.
The
day I saw you was the day I lived. Truly lived. You were so beautiful, so, so
beautiful. Your skin was flawless, without blemish, perfect. Your hair was
soft, oh so soft, like the inside of a rose as they say. When I breathed in the
smell of you, I was intoxicated. Drunk in the perfume that is you, which made
me burn with this vicious desire to own you, to love you, to protect you even
with my life.
And
when I first heard you laugh, it was like a thousand glorious bells tinkling in
my ears—the most magnificent sound. And ever since, I yearned for it, I
anxiously wished for it. Oh, what wouldn’t I do to hear you laugh? To hear that
pure unadulterated joy and happiness in a chuckle, in a giggle, as you gazed at
the world around you with such wonder, such awe?
It
was through watching you that I learned to see the beauty in every little thing
around me. I, like many others, have forgotten. Forgotten that the world,
despite its fast pace and dark realities and loneliness and pain, still held
much love, much compassion, much kindness. You showed me that.
I see you now, as you run ahead of
me during our walks together, soaking in the sun rays shining on your face,
reflected in your smile. I see you as you turn back to face me, your sweet
dress swirling about you, your eyes imploring me to hurry up; your hands
stretched out to me, to hold, to guide, to keep. I call you your pet name, Cat,
and you reward me with your infamous smirk. I see you in my lab, cheekily
scribbling on my research notes, laughing out loud at my annoyance. And knowing
I cannot stay mad at you for long, you sneak kisses on my cheek, and I am
appeased. Days such as these plague my dreams, every night. And I ache for you.
Such an ache it is!
Oh,
but loving you was also the most difficult thing to do! Oh, how frustrated I
often was. How you stubbornly and absolutely refused to listen to anything I had
to say, even though it was for your sake. You were selfish, sometimes uncaring.
You loved to sulk, or storm off during arguments, knowing that it killed me
inside, each time. Eventually, I’d give in, let you have your way. How could I
not? You held my heart in your hands, and I was smitten.
Every
single day with you, I know now, was a blessing, a privilege. Who would ever
know what little time we would have together? If it weren’t dreams of our
walks, our quiet times spent reading together on the couch, snuggling together
under fluffy covers, sleeping side by side with your head on my chest, or
hearing your sudden laughs, seeing your radiant smile, then it would be
nightmares; nightmares of the day it happened, of you calling out to me,
fearful, terrified, not knowing.
And I didn’t hear you, couldn’t see
you. Every single time in my nightmares, I am behind the wheel and I am looking
and looking, but I do not see you. I tell myself you are there, but I still
cannot find you. I cannot control my body as I push the button that sets the
hovercar into reverse, as I increase the speed. My mind is screaming
“NOOOOOOOO!!!” but I can do nothing. The hovercar moves backward, and as I set
it down to park, I hear that horrifying bump, feel the hovercar sway as it
settles on uneven ground, crushing you beneath it. Sometimes, I hear your
screams, sometimes it is just agonizing silence, the excruciating realization
of what I had done. Then I jolt awake, perspiring profusely, but I am really
dead. I died when you did.
I have tried to change the past,
believe me. A friend who also worked at the university owed me, and I cashed
it, gained access to a time displacement device. I went back to time before it
happened, numerous times. Yet, in each time, you leave me. No matter what I do,
however hard I try, however far back in time I go, I cannot save you. I cannot
stop you from leaving me behind, in a world without you. I have researched and
studied and experimented, obsessively, with God knows how many alternatives,
but the results are the same. My friend tells me it is an anomaly, that in certain circumstances, it is just fate, God’s
will. That there is nothing I can do.
How can this be, when I swore to
love you and protect you all my life? I would gladly give my life in exchange
for yours if I could, to grant you more than the 6 years you spent on this
earth. How can I call myself a father, if I cannot even save my little girl? When
I was the cause of your death? I
still hear you calling me, “Daddy, Daddy!” and it breaks my heart. How can I
accept this, Cat, that you are gone? How can I live, knowing what I have done? I killed you. Forgive me, forgive me,
please.
I do not care what my friend has
told me—I believe you are out there, somewhere, in some time. Maybe in some
alternate universe that we have yet to uncover, you are alive and well. You are
still beautiful, still lovely, still Daddy’s little girl. My friend tells me
that it is possible to send things to parallel universes, through the Interspace-time
Portal, strategically located at weakened points in the overlaps between
worlds. So I desperately hope and pray that, somehow, this letter reaches you,
to let you know how much I loved you, no, love
you, even across space and time. And to beg your forgiveness, though I do not
deserve it.
I love you, Cat. Daddy loves you
with all his heart.
Goodbye.
THE END
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