CAMP FIRE (# 10)

My mother and I stay in my apartment the next day and clean out the front closet. I give orders and my mother complies.  I'm quite dictatorial. (I forget this side of me). My mother has the same domineering quality but I realize (now) it's even more pronounced in me.

I'm often impatient with her.

"MOTHER! Please don't pet the cat! I'M WAITING HERE. Hello? LET'S GO.  Shall we FOCUS?"

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After we're done cleaning out the closet, Mattie and Susan come over to make dinner.
My mother tells Mattie and Susan that I've been heartless and cruel. I boss her around, savagely.

I want to defend myself, but she's right.  I have. And it's clear to me (now) I might have a problem.

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Susan prepares fish and artichokes for dinner. The artichokes are delicious. I dip the artichoke leaves in organic Mayonnaise. The slow process of eating the artichokes gives us time to ruminate and then leisurely converse.

We eat near the cat.

The cat's demise has become the campfire around which we gather.

We talk about Susan's brother, Pete.

Pete is (suddenly) dying of cancer and is going, soon. Susan is flying out to West Virginia this weekend to say goodbye. Pete is only 59. He was a health nut. He went to Yale. He once lived in a commune. He has two kids.

"Is your brother hot?" I ask inanely.

"Oh my G-d, YES. Or he was. I think I had crushes on ALL my brothers."

We talk about the cat. The cat lies docile and seemingly doped up in the recliner. The cat, even in ill health, enjoys being near the action, taking in the sounds of conversation. He sneaks a weak glimpse ofus through furry hooded eyes. We stare back at the cat.

"Look Charlie! He's licking his paw!"

"Oh my gosh, I think he's going to use his scratch pad!"

We revere the cat. We praise the cat. We're ancient Egyptians preparing Aroo for mummification.