The War of the Roses

Opening the garden door, she again called for Mercedes. Oliver had never really liked the cat, and Barbara had always felt he had gotten Benny out of spite. Nor did he understand how it was possible for a woman to have a relationship with a female cat. She was sure Mercedes was the only one of the family who really understood her and it was to Mercedes that she had poured out her secret thoughts. Mercedes was wise and true, more perceptive and sensitive than the others. She could always be counted on for affection.

Once she had jumped on Oliver's bare buttocks while he and Barbara were having sex, drawing blood and pain. He had insisted the cat be declawed, but since Barbara had already yielded on spaying, she refused.

"You can't take away her claws,' she had rebuked. "She wouldn't have anything to fight back with.'

'Or to attack me with,' Oliver had protested. The irony hit home now. Men just don't understand the female animal, she thought.

But she had suffered with Benny sleeping in their room for years, barking at every rustle or creak of the house, sometimes humping her leg with that ugly, distended red thing. The children showed little interest in caring for either animal and they became his and hers by default.

'Hasn't she come home?' Anne's response to Barbara's inquiry was neither convincing nor encouraging.

'Why else would I have asked?' Barbara said politely, avoiding a confrontation. Besides, Ann had quickly turned away.

Barbara was not, of course, reassured and Mercedes did not come back. Unable to sleep that night, she dressed early and went down to the kitchen to finish her rabbit pate. Again remembering the meat pastry she tasted the mixture to be sure no one had tampered with it. The memory inflamed her and she beat the eggs with uncommon zeal, mixing them into the flour to make a smooth paste. Cooking was surely her therapy, but it did not calm her now. Sometimes, making a dish could absorb her entire concentration. Now she found it difficult to focus her attention. It was a struggle to line the loaf pan with bacon slices, pack in the meat, press down the corners to avoid air holes. She even forgot to top the loaf off with bacon slices, bay leaves, and parsley stems, and had to remove the pan from the oven to finish the chore.

When it was back in the oven, she went out into the streets, searching for Mercedes, sensing it was futile. Was it possible that Oliver had destroyed the innocent Mercedes in retaliation? It was difficult to get herself to believe that he was capable of destroying her helpless pet. Brooding over that possibility unnerved her. Still, she couldn't find Mercedes. She had also lost track of time. It was four hours later when she returned and she could tell by the odor of singed meat that she had forgotten to set the oven and had ruined the pate. That only increased her irritability.

She called Thurmont.

'I think he's destroyed Mercedes,' she blurted into the phone.

'Your car?' 'My cat.' 'Are you sure?'

'I'm getting there. She hasn't come back in two days. That's never happened before. Ann is an anointed martyr and is being noncommittal. But Mercedes was an innocent animal. I can't believe he was capable of doing something so monstrous.' She felt a sob begin in her chest.

'It's only a cat, for crying out loud.'

'You men don't understand what a cat means. There's some strange chemistry, a different kind of love.. . .'

'Have you got any proof?'

'Well, Mercedes is gone. That's proof enough. I put her in Ann's care. I figure that Oliver's anger pushed him to it. Look what he did with that man's equipment, for crying out loud.' Her lips began to tremble and she could not find her voice.

'Just don't do anything stupid,' Thurmont said. But she could not respond and hung up. Unable to control her sobbing, she went upstairs, took a Valium, and fell into a deep sleep.

She awoke to the big clock in the foyer chiming eleven, which confused her, but helped bring back her sense of time and with it the depression inspired by Mercedes's disappearance. She heard Benny's bark and Oliver's tread as he came up the stairs. She dashed out to the hall to meet him.

'You did something to Mercedes,' she cried. She could hear Eve's stereo playing in the background.

'That's quite an accusation,' Oliver responded. He looked rumpled and unusually tired.

'I demand an explanation,' she said, feeling the hatred rise. Her entire nervous system seemed to vibrate. 'I didn't think you were capable of that.'

'So you've already tried and convicted me.'

'She was an innocent. She was all mine. That's why you did it.'

He looked up and down the corridor.

'All right. Come down to the workroom so the kids can't hear.'