Casanova (4 page)

Donna finished her beer, went to the kitchen, and rinsed out the can before she dropped in into the recycling bin. She had left her flashlight on the counter. She discreetly grabbed it and started walking to the back door. Out of the corner of her eye she had spotted her frequent visitor sitting on the ledge of the kitchen window. As she put her hand on the doorknob she turned to look but he was gone. Donna opened the door and stepped out on to the back porch.

There was a crisp cold chill in the air. Donna could see her breath. She stood perfectly still and listened. Nothing was moving. All was quiet. The flashlight wasn’t really necessary. There wasn’t a cloud in the night sky and a full moon was casting light between the shadows of the trees. Donna flicked it on anyway and scanned the tree line around her house.

There was a growl to her left.

Donna turned the beam of light and something ran out from the bushes under the kitchen window. Whatever it was it was larger than the animal that had been paying her visits. Donna opened the door of the screened in porch. She paused. All was still and quiet again. She stepped down the three steps of the little outside stairs and paused again. She began walking forward and scanning the woods with her flashlight when she heard something rustling between the trees in front of her.

Donna Lacerenza was an Animal Control officer for the Tarrytown, New York Police Department. Everyone she worked with thought she was tough as nails, but fair to a fault in the end. She had been with the department for so long that many couldn’t think of a time when she wasn’t there or wanted to imagine a time when she wouldn’t be there. She trained all the crews and held them all to her high standards. Donna was feared, loved, and respected. Everyone agreed that Donna loved her job and knew her stuff.

It was precisely because she knew her stuff that Donna couldn’t believe what her light had found. She had heard all about the legends and stories of big cats in the woods of Upstate New York. None of those stories was ever proven to be true. She knew the Eastern cougar was extinct. She knew there were still bobcats in the area but this was something altogether different.

An adult bobcat weighs in at around fifteen pounds. This cat was about the size of an adolescent mountain lion. Like the visitor that came to her windows this large figure of a cat was also black and white. Donna estimated it weighed in at close to one hundred pounds. As Donna kept the light beam on the thing before her the large cat rose up on its hind quarters and stood upright.

The beast lifted his head and the moonlight caught his eyes. The lush light filled his eyes and made them glow. Donna could not only see the effect, she could feel it. The energy that came from his eyes filled her with a deep longing. She could feel heartache and fear, confusion and loneliness, and a hunger both light and dark.

What she could sense was replaced with something she could feel physically. The large black and white cat had begun to purr. She could hear it purring quietly and even with the distance between them she could feel the tremors of the soundwaves coming towards her.

Donna was drawn to the strange creature before her. She foolishly started walking towards it when she heard several growls coming from the dark around her. It sounded like whispers in the dark. Cats began to appear at the tree line and around the house. When the whispered growls stopped, this single mother of two boys, alone by choice for the night, found herself facing, by her own count, some two hundred cats. They were all protecting their obvious leader.

Cats are naturally suspicious creatures. They’re suspicious of anything that moves rapidly, makes a lot of noise, or lights up erratically. Feral cats are especially wary of the unknown. Donna slowly brought her flashlight down to her side and turned it off. The absence of her light was replaced by moonlight being reflected in the hundreds of cat’s eyes before her. Donna began to hum as she walked backwards towards the house. Without turning her back to the colony she took each step of the little stairs slowly and carefully.

As she retreated to the relative safety of the screened in porch the gathering of cats begin to close their eyes and disappear into the woods. After she closed the door to her home, and locked it, she turned off the kitchen lights. She didn’t want to be seen. She turned to look at the window by the sink and there he was. The black and white cat was there again. They stared at each other until he jumped from the ledge and into the darkness of the forest. 

Donna knew it wasn’t possible but, she believed that the beast in the woods and the cat at the windows were somehow one and the same. She never told anyone what happened that night. No one would have believed her. Donna remained grateful that she never encountered her boyfriend again.

Twenty-seven miles South of Sleepy Hollow in the city of New York, and fourteen months after Donna Lacerenza encountered a large black and white beast in the woods, Casanova was returning to the place he called home.
It was a Full Cold Moon night in December and the city was resplendent in its holiday finery. The rare Christmas Eve moon hanging in the sky added the magical glow that made this homecoming special.

It was one in the morning. A light flurry of snow was falling gently but the sidewalks were still too warm to let it stick. That would change. A snow storm was expected. By mid-day the City would be buried in fourteen inches of white powder. For now the benign snowflakes mirrored the moonlight and appeared to be blanketing everything in glittering pixie dust.

The city had fallen into a holiday hush. In anticipation of the storm the streets were quiet. In that silence, Mariya woke from a dream. She heard something moving downstairs. The sound of whatever was thumping about in her shop wasn’t what woke her. With cats running around, a sound in the dark wasn’t unusual at all. What made her open her sleepy eyes was the ringing of the bell above the downstairs door.

Mariya was unnerved. Not because the tiny bell rang twice which meant the triple locked door had been opened and closed, but because Mariya could clearly hear the security code being punched into the keypad. As the sole owner of the shop she was the only person who knew the right combination of numbers to prevent the alarm from sounding and to keep the police from arriving.

Mariya Ouspenskaya was born in Poland as World War II was coming to an end. Everyone agreed that she was a beautiful baby born in a dark time. Everyone agreed that the fact she was born with her eyes opened wide marked her apart. It made her special. It meant she was gifted in some way.

Those eyes never saw her father. Cezar was killed in the waning days of the war. Her mother never recovered from the loss. Roza gave birth to Mariya, and the event brought her joy, but not enough to tame the black dog of sadness that followed her incessantly. No longer able to withstand the heartache, she took her own life when Mariya was three years old.

With both parents gone Mariya’s upbringing became the responsibility of her mother’s sister. Zofia wanted to be far from the shadow of war and its consequences so the spinster aunt took her young charge and they both fled Poland forever.

Mariya grew up in the hard lived ghettos of New York. She knew danger all her life and learned never to appear to be afraid. She threw back the blankets on her bed. A half dozen cats jumped off in the commotion. Mariya put on her robe and grabbed the baseball bat she kept by the side of the bed. She didn’t turn on any lights as she quietly began moving towards the stairs.

Mariya was missing the warmth of her bed. She had been dreaming of her aunt before the bell rang and the intrusion began. The brownstone shop was the home they settled in when they arrived in the United States. Zofia came with all the money she had and, along with Mariya’s modest inheritance, they were able to use their nest egg to purchase the small four story brick building. They lived on the second floor, used the third and fourth floors for work spaces and storage, and turned the ground floor into a dress shop.

Aunt Zofia was a gifted seamstress. In Poland, her Warsaw shop was well known before the war. Customers from all walks of life found their way there and left with a garment tailored just for them. More importantly they left with a garment that made them feel good about themselves. This was Zofia’s gift and New Yorkers were soon drawn to her. Mariya worked in the busy shop and helped with the sewing. She had a way with a needle and thread but her true gifts lay elsewhere.

At the top of the stairs Mariya stopped to listen. All was quiet in the darkened shop below.

“Hello?” she called out. “Is anyone there?”

Mariya knew that announcing her presence wasn’t very smart but she did it anyway. She was hoping to hear the door open and close again but no such sound came. She then began to worry less about herself and more for the cats that had run of the shop.

“Hello, my babies,” she called out. “Come upstairs to mama.”

She waited but not one cat came to her call. Mariya started down the stairs. She was disheartened when the naughty kitties hadn’t respond to her. Mariya had a way with animals. That was her gift. She inherited it from her mother. For Roza, it was strongest with canines. For Mariya, it was strongest with felines.

Before the monolith of steel and glass was built around the little brownstone, there was an alley in the back. Someone had abandoned a car there and Mariya used it to feed the stray cats in the area. She would place bowls of food and water, on the floors and the seats, and the cats would come. No other animals would interfere. Such was Mariya’s growing energy that all she drew to her were cats.

She didn’t hear their voices in her head but she could sense their thoughts. She could feel the essence of their being. With a little practice Mariya found she could do the same with people, but people interested her less. With the exception of those she felt needed a feline friend.

Someone would walk into the dress shop and Mariya could feel it. She would pass someone on the street and she could sense it. A part of them was missing. A part of them needed a feline presence to make it all right. Soon she began taking cats from the car and giving them new homes.

Aunt Zofia passed in her sleep one night when Mariya was out delivering a cat to a woman downtown. Her aunt died alone in her bed and Mariya always felt guilty for that. In accordance with Zofia’s will, Mariya took ownership of the building and all of the money and possessions they had accumulated. Mariya was twenty five and quickly followed her heart’s desire. She closed the dress shop and one month later opened her pet shop.

Mariya flipped the light switch at the bottom of the stairs but the beautiful crystal chandelier Aunt Zofia had chosen, and loved more than the building itself, remained dark. She tried a few more times but the results were the same. Both the chandelier, and the room, would not surrender the dark.

The shop was bathed in moonlight. Mariya’s eyes began adjusting to the lingering glow. Everything appeared in its place, but for the overwhelming number of cats covering the entire floor in a carpet of fur, and the tall figure standing amongst them. With the moonlight streaming in through the large display window the intruder was silhouetted and appeared only as a shadow. The dark figure had its back to Mariya. She could see it was wearing a hooded sweatshirt and jeans.

As the figure turned towards her and lowered the hood she could see it was a young man. He had pale skin and deep red lips. His long black hair was marked with streaks of white. The same pattern was repeated in his goatee.

“Hello, Mother.”

The young man began walking towards Mariya and as he went the cats at his bare feet parted like loyal subjects making way for their king.

“I don’t have a son.”

He never looked down, he never missed a step, and he kept his blue grey cat like eyes on Mariya as he came closer.

“I said I have no son. Get out. Now.”

She gripped the bat and raised it high.

“Fifty-two moons have come and gone since we saw each other last,” he began as he stopped directly in front of her, “and not one has passed without my thoughts turning to you.”

Mariya began to sense something familiar about the young man. He reached up slowly and put his hand on the hand that gripped the bat. He never took his eyes from hers as they lowered her arm together. The young man slipped the bat from her hand and dropped it to the floor.

“I’ve come home, Mother.”

The mysterious stranger put his arms around Mariya and drew her close to him. Her senses were immediately overwhelmed. His physical warmth was familiar. The smell of his hair was familiar. His fingernails digging gently into her back as he pulled her closer felt familiar. Images of a small black and white kitten came to her mind. A rocking chair. A book. Music and singing. All these images raced through her mind and they all came to an abrupt end when she felt a purr growing in his throat.

“Casanova?” she whispered. “Is that you?”

The purring grew more intense and then began to fade as the young man let her go. Casanova stood before her, took her head in both his hands, and kissed her gently on her forehead.

“How is this possible?” she asked.

Casanova smiled.

“Cruelty, Mother.”

As Casanova stepped away from her the sea of cats closed in around her feet. The room was full of cats. On the floor. On the shelves. In the trees. Mariya could feel all eyes on her.

“Man’s inhumanity to mankind,” he continued as he reached the cages which held the kittens.

“Man’s inhumanity to animal kind,” he whispered to himself as he slowly began to open each cage.

As the last cage opened, he reached in and pulled out a calico kitten. He drew it close to his chest and began petting it. The little one purred deeply.

“I’ve changed.”