Dear Mum,

This is the eve of my twenty-first birthday and you’ll never guess what I am doing as I pen you this letter. I am sitting home in my apartment, watching late-night movies. Yes, I know. I am meant to party and have fun and act wild. Truly, I should be doing all those things and should be enjoying myself with a few drinks, but I’m not. That is the way of things. I have no interest in going out, nor do I care about “drinking” with “friends”. What kind of fun is that? It is all reckless in my eyes. Don’t even get me started on the danger of driving while drunk.

I know wholeheartedly that you are out enjoying yourself at this time. How’s father? Doing well, I hope. No, I have not met an interesting man yet. Men bore me. They’re all show-offs. Like us women are female peacocks and all they need to do is preen their feathers and we shall fall swooning at their feet, ready to be ravaged. Honestly, who the hell said that? Have you read a good romance? I haven’t at all been reading, too caught up in my studies. By the way, school is going well enough for me. My grades are up and I’m not getting much sleep but that is also the way of things. College life isn’t as glamorous as they say.

Do you know how much easier it would be on me if you gave in to technology and got a computer? Maybe set up an email address? Penning letters and sending them off to Bucharest is a tough job and costly. I hope that by the end of this semester I’ll be able to visit you. Tell the family, especially Uncle Greg, I said hello.
Yours,
Cathleen
P.S. Does Melinda still make those chocolate truffles? And tell Uncle Teodore that his present was received and much appreciated.


Cathleen dropped the pen and let it fall to the oaken desk, attention returning to the television where a black-and-white version of Dracula played. A tub of popcorn was held securely in her hands and she grabbed a few pieces, popping them into her mouth. The woman, so logical at times, giggled. “Oh, Dracy, how I sometimes wish you were real.” She waved her hand at the screen, dismissing the thought with a sigh. “But you can’t be. That would be irrelevant and impossible.”

A sleek black feline bounded onto the desk. Its emerald green eyes were feral; its coat as dark as night. When Cathleen noticed the animal she cooed. “Hey pretty girl. Not much to do tonight, huh?” She woman pulled the cat into her lap and sighed softly, saying to herself, “A cat for company. Oh well. It could be worse. I could be with a man.” And at her own words, she cracked a smile. Absently, Cathleen stroked the cat’s flanks, shoving yet another handful of popcorn into her mouth.

The cat, Sasha, lifted her head and gazed at the woman as if she truly had some human sentience. Her expression was blank, but her eyes shone fiercely. She nuzzled her human’s hand, hopped from her lap, and sauntered toward the open window. Her human called, “Don’t be late.” The cat, who seemed vaguely familiar, hopped onto the windowsill and disappeared into the night.

Cathleen watched as Sasha left and wondered to herself what business a cat would have on the streets this late at night. She always wondered about her childhood pet. It was as if she had an agenda of her own to keep. With a lift of her shoulders and a sigh, Cathleen returned her sights to the television. A commercial for chewing gum showed on the screen and Cathleen allowed herself to relax into the chair. Her thoughts drifted to her homeland, Bucharest, and she thought of the family members she left behind to grasp an opportunity in education. She had always been forward, direct, and always pursued the path of the mind rather than that of the heart. With no interest at all in romantics, Cathleen made her way to the United States to study law.

Three years of her life dedicated to becoming an attorney; three years that were wasted. Her mother chastised her as well as her family, yet she remained unmoved in her decision. Looking back on her life, Cathleen fondly remembered her childhood. Bucharest was laced with a certain mystery one could not place and its beauty had always taken her breath away. To this day, she remembered the sunsets in the evenings and how they set the sky aflame with color and the stars that twinkled and glimmered, as if a painter had perfectly placed each shining diamond.

Rising from her seat, Cathleen flicked the television off. She glided from the living room of her duplex apartment and moved toward the kitchen, a spring in her step. Her musings of home had enhanced her mood. She found herself wishing for something that she had never taken part of, the taste of alcohol. Only an experimental taste. With her mind made up, she grasped the car keys to her Chevy, slipped on her shoes, and headed toward the door. She scribbled a note and left it on the countertop, actually writing it for the purpose of an animal to read. “Went to bar, Sash.” Not once did she stop to think about how ridiculous the notion was. She simply stepped out of the threshold of her duplex’s door, clicked the lock, and turned to breathe in the night air.

The moon was glowing overhead and she smelled the promise of a light rain on the wind. She didn’t even think about it, only knew it was so. Her gaze was to the stars, tracing constellations with her eyes. The constellation Pisces, the two fish, was her favorite. Her lips curved into a smile and she moved briskly across the sidewalk until she reached the door of her truck. Shoving the keys into the lock, she turned it and pulled the handle. She then put the keys into the ignition, started it, and stepped on the gas, eager to put distance between herself and everyday life. Flicking on the radio, she laughed hard. “Escape” by Rupert Holmes played and she had half a mind to sing along to the ditty.
Half an hour later she arrived at a placed she had passed by many times, the place she had vowed never to be. She cut the engine and stepped out of the vehicle, wallet in hand. There was no line at the club’s door but the rowdy crowd inside was unmistakable. You could hear the laughter, smell the cigarettes, hear the music booming. A tall man stood outside of the door, probably the bouncer, dressed in a black suit. She aimed to move right past him, but he stopped her and gazed at her behind the dark shades of his sunglasses. Imagine sunglasses at nighttime. “I.D., ma’am.” When she flipped her identification out, he ushered her past.

Her first thought when she stepped into the door was loud. A few men looked her way with greedy smiles and dark eyes. She paid them no mind and gazed around. Men were not her objective. At once she found what she desired, the bar, and move to sit on an empty stool. The bartender, a blonde female with studious green eyes, gazed at her, smacking a piece of gum. “What can I get you, hun?”

Cathleen smiled up at the woman and leaned forward, resting her elbows against the cool surface of the bar. “What do you recommend?”

The bartender smiled and winked. “Not much of a drinker, are you?”

Shaking her head, she laughed. “First time.”

The woman nodded. “Oh. New to the scene, huh?” She pulled a glass from beneath the bar and began mixing various liquids into it. One label caught Cathleen’s eyes.

“Yeah. Very new. I’m, uh, not a people person.” The bartender set the glass in front of her. Cathleen reached back for the wallet that held her cash, when a hand caught her wrist. A man had seated himself beside her and she blinked up at him.

He pulled a folded bill from his pocket and said, handing it to the blonde, “Allow me.” When Cathleen’s brows furrowed and her expression changed, he stated very matter-of-factly, “I will pay for your drink.”

The blonde bartender was admiring him, a flirtatious demeanor about her now. “Ain’t that just sweet. You know this here man, hun?”

Cathleen shook her head and gazed at the stranger. He was impeccably dressed from the soles his Italian loafers to the red silk of his tie. His dark eyes gave nothing away. His frame was clearly masculine with broad shoulders and a shapely torso. Even beneath the black fabric of his suit you could see the clearly defined muscles of his flat stomach. Her eyes were drawn down his legs and to his ankles, which were all perfectly proportioned in accordance to height. Just sitting, he was a formidable creature. Cathleen looked away; cheeks flushed, and sipped her drink while the bartender leaned over and whispered something into the stranger’s ear. He chuckled and she produced a shrill giggle. She glanced at his face. High cheekbones, a hooked nose, sharp features. He was so striking and she found herself musing about how handsome he looked in the suit which complimented him so well, as if it were tailored especially for his taste.

Cathleen swiveled in her seat, turning to watch the dance floor. The drink was alright. It was sweet and felt good as it ran down her throat, but she deduced there was nothing special about it. With her curiosity of alcohol sated, she slid from the bar and moved toward the door, glancing once more at the stranger in deep conversation with the blonde. He had only acknowledged her presence once during the few minutes she had been there and he hadn’t looked at her since, though must have felt her gaze. Her curiosity suddenly spiked and she wondered who that stranger was. He couldn’t possibly live in this neighborhood. It seemed too plain for him. He had to have come from some foreign country. Perhaps as a prince or some other nobleman. Regular men did not have the waves of confidence and power he exuded even as he sat. It was as if some pent up beast hid just beneath the surface. There was something sinister about him she just couldn’t place.

She mulled over the stranger as she started the truck. It was only eleven on a Saturday night and there were still not many cars on the road, as if someone had forbid driving tonight. Her thoughts drifted to the stranger again and she scowled at her mind’s traitorous behavior. She reprimanded herself and drove away from the sight. Driving seemed to calm her and she returned to reality.

Turning down a familiar street, she pressed down on the breaks as a recognizable shape crossed the road. It was a petite black cat, sleek in the night. Its dark shape was hard to discern by the light of the moon. She smiled, remembering Sasha, and parked on a curb. She got out of the Chevy, slammed shut the door, and pulled her key from her pocket. As she moved up the stairs, she slid the key home, turned it.
A creature just on the other side of the door hissed as she opened it. Sasha stood there, tail swishing back and forth. The animal look agitated. Cathleen stepped into the hall and shut the door on her way in. As she made her way towards the kitchen, Sasha meowed as if in protest. She turned her eyes on the cat and snorted. “What? I’m not allowed to go out and enjoy myself?” She laughed, remembering the note that she had written to Sasha earlier.
“Not like you’d understand, Sash. You’re only a cat…” Sasha, the cat, clawed at the denim of her jeans with a long yowl. Cathleen blinked. “And that means?” But the cat only purred in answer. Cathleen shrugged and set her keys on the table. “You know, Sasha, you’re such a strange animal. First whining and then purring… I fed you earlier so that can’t be it, can it?” Sasha purred louder in answer, arching, and then rubbed against her human’s leg in contentment.

With a sigh Cathleen picked up her cat and headed toward bed. Shaking her head, she settled beneath the covers. Sasha curled up on the other side and as soon as Cathleen’s head hit the pillows, she fell immediately to sleep. Sasha, however, had other plans. Things around here were becoming curiouser and curiouser.