9 Lives

I.

The black cat who can sing and dance has existential dread. Slinking into view through a slightly darkened alley way with old cobbled streets. The time is 18th century Paris in America. The alley way is covered with  detritus; posters - ragged and sanctimonious, advertising the latest concerts, cabarets, political protest - and a single moving pinky toe that wriggles underneath a poster advertising the latest cabaret. 

This poster is slightly less rugged than the rest, the cat shimmy sets off towards it. Initially playing with the toe, the black cat stops to look at the advertisement above them. The cat: [thinking to themselves] “What is Cabaret?” {speaking & pouncing, while saying} “Prey.” [thinking to themselves] “Cabaret lens.” [speaking to the pinky.] “Class is something that still eludes us. Who is the state? Who can you satirize?” [thinking] “I’d love to join the cabaret.” The black cat  continues down the alleyway to the latest poster, more aware now of their surroundings and staring up at a brick wall with the poster emblazoned with the message :

 MANIFESTO:

THE FOOL 

THE KING  

The cat: {speaking to himself} “Is that really an attack? The man’s a fool, but is he really a king? A king serves the people. That man is no king of mine. He only speaks slander and negates potentiality for any even superfluous action. We ought to stand up and fight” {loudly meowing} “If only I weren’t a cat.”

Continues down the alleyway to what looks like a garden apartment, sagging at its edges and precariously on the edge of the alleyway with its window half open to the odorous breeze. It would be simple for the cat to jump in. The cat looks into the window, testing it’s boundaries and there is a sudden eruption, rupture. A man bursts out of a cake. The cat sulks away.

The cat: {speaking to himself} “Sensationalism…”{thinking to himself} “Satire on the cult of naturalism. Meaning the ordinary picking from reality. How is satire different than naturalism?” {controlled shock} {speaking}”Annoying the neighbors...” {thinking} “...abrasive and persuasive still not of worth to the greater phenomenon that is ART.” The black cat drifts away to a less seedy strip, still rough around its edges and under-repaired. There is a store with odds and ends, including electronics.  A newsreel carte des visite is on, if only the cat could reach it’s lens…a radio plays the news of militaristic interventions above the cat. The news drifts up to his cocked ears. The cat: {speaking} “Doggerel.” Bored with the repetivity of certain news the cat slinks away. Anne Bogart is speaking, singing, prophesying in the distance on the street corner - the cat slinks over to her bible thumping. Anne: “Prophecy takes a risk. If you wanna make something out of it. Why not change everything? Gertrude Stein, Game of Thrones, a new language!”The cat looks at her sideways, she beckons to him. The cat: {thinking} “patriture meaning, little phrases of movement gesture, abstract, genuine intuitive.”

Anne: “Your taking it out of context.”

Cat halts, looking shocked - slinks away leaving her to prophesize and wanders through the crack in an ornate but, dingy door slightly ajar. 

There is an air of formality. In the front of the house sits a drawing room. Loretta, young and finicky wrestles on the couch with a fervent gentleman somewhere over the age of 25. She is begging him for whatever it is she thinks he wants from her in that particular moment. Her arms leaning forward so as to plead with the man. The couch’s upholstery sits with a plastic covering over it so that the loveseats’ brown body has a watery sheen to it. On a mahogany floor sits a carpet which looks more expensive than any of the furniture in the stiffly and barely renovated flat. The oriental print of the rug has gone dusty with fur and its beauty is less apparent.

 The window is left open so as to heave a flutter of wind onto the heated scene. These gusts blow evenly across the dingy foray at a precise 9:17 pm on a summer’s eve. Loretta has a passion more subversive than the gentleman. The cat sits at the crack in the door listening, as he cleans himself. Loretta asks the gentleman, “What do you think of this couch? I can’t believe I nearly passed up on 35th! I was just walking around ya and I’m..you know how the alley has its secrets and little..hmm idiosyncrasies, such as; free couches and bowls of milk!” “And why is it that you didn’t leave it?” the Gentleman retorts. “You don’t like it.” she says. The Gentleman replies, “I like it fine.” Silence. 

The two wrestle for a while on the couch. Lying there together. After awhile  Loretta, completely out of nowhere says, “I like the idea of a glowing n’ glossy garment I wear to bed. It would refract me from alien dream insects, I'm sure.” The gentleman asks her, “Why do you say things like that?” “Like what?” No reply from the gentleman. He reaches for his shirt and strangles it back on. Loretta goes on saying, “I would like to go out dancing with the pretty people I think of as ‘me’ before I look in the mirror. But, I’d have to wear clogs with all my recent pain! I am listening to the silence my room makes- It is so loud I will speak its name!!! I am getting down with it. I am careless with ittt (song sung) The Gentleman: “About the dance last night….” Loretta: “I was jealous and was sure it showed.” The Gentleman: “It did show. Loretta: “Why do you do that?” The Gentleman: I don’t know. Loretta: “Stop.”

The Gentleman: “Listen, I Am young and indeterminate, and yesterday I told you I was free!”

The cat grows bored, and looks up, asking the man. “What is your sign?”The gentleman and Loretta both start, turn around and together yell,“Shoo!” The cat hisses and scram’s and turns down the alley to a place he knows the owner is kind and keeps milk waiting for him often. Meanwhile the couple turn towards each other and embrace one another.“At least we can agree on one thing.” Loretta says.The Gentleman replies,  “I told you to stop leaving the damn door open.” Loretta: “It lets the air in.” The Gentleman: “Ugly alley air.” Loretta scoffs and goes to grab her coat and hat, she turns and slams the back door without giving the opportunity to hear the gentleman beg.

The gentleman goes to flip the Tv on, some terrible news drones on in the back ground - something about a migrant crisis - he opens tinder and begins swiping. Loretta walks down the alley past the cat and to the left. 

II.

The cat returns to the same apartment. Time has seemed to go backwards and the room looks as if the couple has only just moved in, except their not a couple yet it’s just Loretta. She is wearing polka dots and loafers, she looks younger, less haggard - more hopeful for the future. She has a bandana in her hair with one air pod in the left ear. She is struggling with the weight of her boxes. The apartment is lovely when it’s empty. Maybe it’s just the absence of the gentleman that makes it brighter. There is a commotion outside in the alley. 

Outside The Players are Lovely: A Dark Sir incredibly handsome - more beautiful than most. He has a way of walking that’s like gliding, as if its never painful or difficult. One nah is all-together apparently about the world, but so torn up with their own indecisions to evolve and accept their all together minor state in the world - eager to push themselves outside of their own comfort, a real flirt. This is perhaps why, One Nah has ended up in such a perhaps you could say, eager nod. Over here two is caught in between a torn up situation per usual, all-together dubious, quite the display – incredibly and particularly the same, and different. But, still the same and unsolid in flooring as the other loiterers. He talks with the gusto of a proud man, though slim and feminine in features. Dead, beat Lovely Over There is sorely misunderstood as only fine, not pretty not beautiful but fine. His thoughts beat a million miles a minute, but rarely speaks - except when spoken to.These are the players. They are leaning on the brick wall in the alley. The same wall which leads into the apartment of Loretta. One nah has a balled up piece of newspaper and is throwing it up in the air over and over again. Lovely says something about kids stuff, and the cat slinks by giving them all a side eye as they all are known to loiter often and the black cat is the law abiding sheriff around these parts. 

Deadbeat Lovely over there yells at the cat, “I always see you here. We’ve got a lot in common, you and I...we’re both loiterers!” The cat sits on his hind legs and promptly says “I’m worried about your unemployment benefits. I get milk, you?” The three of them keel over laughing shouting, hooting. Loretta opens the window and peeks out to see what the noise is about. As soon as Loretta looks out, she is nearly thrown over backwards by how handsome Deadbeat Lovely is. “Who’s that?” She thinks and suddenly, he defines her. The group doesn’t notice her - taunting the cat to no avail and much to their dismay. “Hey!” Loretta yells. 

Deadbeat lovely looks up and gives a bright smile. “Gentleman.” She thinks. She is glad to foolishly hope in that split second moment that DeadBeat Lovely Over There is a “Gentleman.”  Regardless of his saggy pants and his feverish look which sends some sort of message to the heart that whispers “be safe.” 

Loretta knows she’s no fool. Her heart plays one willingly. She’s surprised it doesn’t sing and dance. She conveniently realizes that she still needs help arranging furniture, knowing this she gestures to his muscles and his pals. This man is trouble. The type that believes women like to be fondled with flaming eyes and stark leaning on alleyway walls. Still the moment of lust between the two is like blackouts on hot summer days. To fall in love with the gentleman is an inconvenience for a lady much like finding the labyrinths end. It’s not that exactly. They don’t really. Not really. Instead Loretta settled on eyes like sarcophagus, to be buried together with the dead. No relationship is perfect. 

The gentleman pulls up his pants and peers at Loretta. He shakes his head and lags his tongue a little. He doesn’t quite know what to say. “Sure sweetheart” he replies. And that was that. The boys eyes tilt way high and decide they are in enough of a good mood to help, with the promise of several sneak glances at her behind. She knows this and offers the invitation regardless. She beckons them in to help. The cat watches all this with no dismay as they have seen this very scene or a similar one before and over and over again like nothing else has happened in the meantime besides, the falling in love. It’s easy enough to do when you live on the block which is so nefarious for being petty and disgusting with “love.” And the world then starts over fresh tomorrow, removing some hearts from others.

III.

The cat was infamous for making appearances all down and across the alley, at different points in time - linear and nonlinear. As such, the cat was a time traveler who could see the entire fate of The Gentleman and Loretta’s relationship as well as the other nine iterations, this is why the cat hissed upon Loretta allowing the gentleman in to her apartment the first time around. 

This instilled a certain disgust and hatred for the cat which neither of them could explain as anything other than a neighborhood rivalry. The cat, knew however that the pair in fact had together, a celestial relationship which could not ever be fractured and in fact remained throughout time. The cat, hopping from century to century appearing to watch the same sort of relationship. The cat seeing the initial paving of the alley way which once housed horses clacking about, instead of dumpsters which sit still and stunk. The alley remained a total shit heap throughout the years, and every couple was unhappy or unbalanced in some way and a mirror of the other.

Loretta loved her place. She settled there nicely with the gentleman, who somehow wormed his way onto the lease with her - as he was indeed homeless at the time of their meeting. Crashing on couches of friends, or acquaintances who had once been friends after the gentleman had sorely screwed them over or just overstayed his welcome. Loretta didn’t mind him or the lollygallying no goods that he brought in with him. They would often congregate in the living room and laze on the couches with their nikes on. She didn’t mind cooking for them, cleaning, or doing the laundry. She did however despise his taste for other women. 

The other neighbors of the time were a funny sort, same income level as the two lovers with different living arrangements. There were eight older women on the block ranging from one hundred to thirty five. There was Emilia who lived above the video store. Loretta was sweet on her and they would have tea together monthly. Loretta would moan about the inconsistencies of the gentleman’s affection. “He never ever brings home a gift for me just out of the blue, but of course his credit card is racked with drunk purchases, assumingly for women he meets in bars.” 

Loretta complains and the old woman in reply says what all women say often enough in their lives, “men are complete idiots. He’s an absolute fool and it would suit you better to find a doctor and settle down. You’re too lovely for the alleyway.” 

There was one other man on the block besides the Gentleman. An odd toothed hustler who lived two doors down and played piano wildly early in the mornings and late in the evenings - he was a havoc in the neighborhood and of course the gentleman loved him yelling “Biggie” from across the way and giving him a dap on his approach. 

The old woman found him disarming and regularly complained about the piano playing though she did enjoy the morning tunes. She however did not particularly like when he played in the late evening. He always gave her a wink and a smile, yelling “Nice to see you Ms. Daisy!” even though that was not her name. She would yell “It’s Emilia fool.”  He had a soft soul with a tough job. He like most everyone on the block always left out milk for the cat as he knew what it was like to be hungry and without pay. He also happened to be deeply in love with Loretta. The cat brought messages of her loneliness to him through hobo signs next to his crib and the milk.

The cat didn’t necessarily like the hustler Biggie. He did in fact respect him because Biggie did the same for him. Sometimes he would lap up the milk and other times scorn it. waiting for it to get that flimsy consistency on it’s top that could be scraped off and then finally for the milk to sour and spurn the whole neighborhood against the cat who was once again on a hunger strike. 

Josephine was the oldest living resident on the block and the natural historian of the alleyways past. She was 100 years old and attested to the fact that the cat had been there forever with no signs of aging or imperfection. No one believed her of course because she had dementia and didn’t remember her own daughter who looked after her and was also one of the gentleman’s many women who he took with while Loretta was at work copy writing for a local outfit that didn’t pay much. Her name was Gabrielle and she like the other women had found a mate and lost one and then never picked up another beau. 

Anne was just some easy lady at this point in time but, at one point she was not homeless or scorned and lived in the second house to the left of Loretta’s. Sally was 65 and friends with all the other women, and particularly the cat. 

The gentleman was a scavenger for the ladies and because he was so incredibly handsome it was not difficult for him to gain dates in person, online, and wherever else he happened to be. Loretta was not bad looking herself but she was loyal and disregarded mens attempts to persuade her into a cocktail at eight down the street.

Thing was the cat knew them all more than any of them ever could know each other. Jospehine was correct - he had always been there. He could dash anywhere at anytime. Because of this he knew the entire history of the alleyway and its decrepit relationships. It never seems to end well for anyone, except one iteration where the woman whose name was Sally married what she thought was a doctor but was in fact the cat. Otherwise you live in the alleyway, you die in the alleyway.

Licking the paw the cat notices the pinky toe wandering about the alleyway again. Bored and indescribably famished the cat leaps towards it, bloodying the street with toe juice and licking its lips. Unable to hold out on desert the cat wanders over to Biggie’s back house and feeds upon the fresh milk left out for the cat. Leaping towards the window after finishing the meal the cat peered in to see Loretta and Biggie on the couch. “ Loretta had been lonely and recently caught The Gentleman with another woman. Biggie was relatively handsome even if he had a receding hairline, I mean after all it wasn’t forever. They kissed and held onto each other. After sometime they undressed until Loretta grew panicky and grabbed her things and rushed out the door.

The cat speeds back to the couple’s window in time to hear the lock jiggle and see Loretta walk in looking slightly guilty. The cat sets off towards a more timely sight, the televisions that mirror the alleyway and reverses time.

IIII.

It’s 1954. The cat moseys about somewhat confused, thinking, “I forgot about the television” and saying “I’m hungry.” Drifting over broken bottles, and odd refuse the cat returns to sit up on the window ledge of the same apartment.. She is dusting when she notices a purr coming from her window. She looks fondly over at the beast, and saunters over to pet the tips of their ears. 

“I’ve missed you.” the cat says, while, thinking - 

“I love you.” Sally gives the cat a look akin to friendship and the cat is demurred. Saying nothing else, the cat leaps up towards Sally’s shoulders and whisper “When is he coming home? in her ear. 

Sally answers with a giggle, “Hopefully never.”

The two cuddle for a while Sally affectionately patting the cat’s head and singing softly some odd tune once popular and long forgotten by most. That was the thing about the woman, she never forgot things - this is why perhaps she had such a difficult time getting through life.

 It was not that she held grudges exactly, however she did hold resentments - stored in a small golden locket surely worn around her neck which dangled above the cat’s ears. The cat was really her only true friend, and they disappeared so often their relationship was basically non distance. The cat would never tell her where she was going until they were just simply, gone.

There was a knock on the door and the two friends jolted a bit in their seats. The cat was picked up and taken to the ledge and softly told to scram with a kiss. She then turned towards the door. She went over to it and opened it gently, only a crack.

The Gentleman pried the door open drunkenly, smiling foolishly. Though the woman was indeed poor she made it a priority to ‘gift’ herself with expensive items once a year. Several years ago she bought herself a perfume from Paris which she wore religiously, the gentleman rarely smelled of it anymore. The two had met similar to how Loretta would meet the gentleman in the future, in the alleyway which acted as a sort of gateway for dis-ingenious love. Funny, how similar the furnishings of the two different women’s apartments were - either Sally had an eye towards the future or Loretta was a fan of vintage - it was perhaps, a mixture of both things. There were few accent pieces besides the rug. The couple once had a gramophone. Unfortunately they had to sell it when money was particularly tight - which was often. The brown couch with the plastic sheen was not there. 

“Let me in” the gentleman drawled, “I’ve forgotten my keys.”

The woman who was always so infinitely kind, did indeed let him in regardless of the fact that she wanted to yell, “Scram” just as she had done to the cat whom she actually loved. 

 Humans unfortunately are not the same as cats, though similar in certain behaviors such as speech, the two are not the same in terms of relationships. Humans have the special capability of screwing things up. The cat, though indeed aware of the fact that he is a lone wolf does not necessarily consider his species as particularly attractive. He, prefers Sally, Sally prefers humans, and the gentleman has no preference at all. 

The cat reverts back to slinking around the alley way wishing for an escape or at least a change in bodily formation, 

“perhaps next reincarnation.” The cat sighs,

 “This has been an awfully long one - life that is. This being the sixth.” 

He sees Anne preaching at the end of the alley and goes over to say hello and chastise her with greater ideas from the future, the pinky toe scrambles behind him attempting to hide from it’s inevitable fate.“I’ve seen you before” Anne says, “a half a century before now.” “Yes, yes” the cat sulks, 

“We have this conversation every time.” 

“Not much has changed has it?” 

The cat sits on its hind legs and begins to clean itself. Picking out future fleas and deliberating who is president and who is secretary of state. Time travel does odd things to politics. Anne doesn’t necessarily understand what is going on, ever. She simply exists and spews whatever artistic nonsense or archetypical mysticism she can give out. On the day of the crash, she gathered quite a crowd and convinced them - ALL WAS COMING TO AN END, and the hand of god was reaching towards us to sweep us away and make room for new creations. (She had gone mad after a bad break up). “The financial crisis was simply the start.” God knows how important money is to humans. 

The cat scoffs at this and then eyeing the pink toe again, that cat aims towards it in pursuit once again.

Meanwhile the woman and the Gentleman are bickering a bit. Nothing too terrible. She doesn’t love him so much as appreciate his beauty. She is treated differently when she goes out to the cinema with the gentleman, people are more attentive towards her. They have not gone to the pictures in a while though. In fact, they haven’t been out together in months. “Why don’t we get dinner.” The woman says after giving him a light peck on the lips, “You smell like whiskey, and could use something to soak it up.” The gentleman frowns and pulls out the insides of his pockets to show that they are empty. Sally nods that it’s ok and disappears to find her stash of coins she keeps from the gentleman purposefully and exactly for this reason. The cat returns from talking to Anne just as the two of them are leaving out the door. The cat groans absolutely.

V.

How unfortunate a lover’s quarrel is to the neighbors but how wonderful to release rage. Dishes are cracking, nice ones - with blue flowers decorating their edges. The china is cracked into shards on the floorboards which surround Loretta’s heeled feet. She is wearing a pink dress with taffeta at the neck - the gentleman’s greying and worn suit is slight disarrayed. He has his hands above his ears, and is simultaneously yelling “You’re crazy! You’re crazy!” “Yes I am.” Sally retorts, “I let you into my life didn’t I?” “You don’t mean it baby, you don’t mean it.” The Gentleman pleads. “I’m a likable guy, you know you like me baby.”

Loretta continues throwing dishware, the broken shards crunching beneath her heeled feet echoing the sound of gravel or chalk. Each new plate demands as much attention as the first one being thrown. Soon they’d have nothing to eat off of. The cat streaks through the apartment in an attempt to end the fight. Loretta casts a plate directly at the gentleman and he ducks, the plate erupting behind him with a crash. His hands above his head as if asking to be saved or giving himself up to the police.

Biggie begins playing his piano, and the old woman’s light turns on - she yells out her window at Biggie - he can’t hear her over his own din. Josephine, the oldest living resident on the block sways in her chair knowingly while her daughter reads a book besides her slightly flustered and triggered into remember a similar scene from her past. The young monotonous couple had gone off to see a play, which was rare for them especially because of the classlessness the gentleman so welcomely presents. It was supposed to be a pleasant evening, - he had brought the tickets home with a smile. The gentleman, that is - not the cat - though,  the cat wished they had thought of that, to present them to her in his jaw next to his whiskers, fixed well in a tuxedo and sitting besides the prettiest girl in the alleyway who prior to his invite had wanted absolutely nothing to do with a feline.

The thing about the gentleman is though he is inattentive and a fornicator of all types, he does love Loretta and all the other women he takes up with, in some advantageous way. The thing is that they all have quite robust, sizable, and omniscient hearts. The women are not foolish, since this relationship is their last. Tonight is the end she thinks, aloud. She says to Dead Beat I hate you absolutely. 

VI.

It’s 1984 and Gabrielle is fighting with a certain Gentleman while her mother Josephine strokes the cat in the next room. The cat and Josephine both knew it was only a matter of time before the infighting couple would stop. Sally had at this point married the cat but, 30 years prior. Loretta was running out of the theatre in a rage her pink dress flowing out behind her. “Stupid thing.” she yelled to herself. Onlookers gaped, and others were far too busy existing and living their own lives that had nothing to do with her, or the cat, or the gentleman, or even Other women from eons ago. Because, that’s when it all really began. This pattern of rejected women hanging onto men who did absolutely nothing besides play them. The gentleman always remained the same. 

Meanwhile Loretta, Anne, Josephine, Gabrielle, Emilia, Cara, Amelie, Trish, and Beth were all breaking up with the gentleman - as were the many iterations of her.