AROO, A NEW ARC (PART 6)

They arrive within the hour, Susan first and then Mattie. 

They scramble past me into the untidy bedroom, dropping bags and coats - like actors late for rehearsal.

They lay beneath the unmade bed (for hours) massaging, caressing, cajoling.

They are maternal and patient but I want it over. 

"I wish he'd die now" I say to calves and feet. I'm drained and nervous.

I feel powerless and male by the door, stuck on a scooter, the expectant father anxiously awaiting his cat's death, waiting for word from the cat midwives.

Maybe Mattie feels my exclusion. "Charlie, you wanna come in closer? We can all meditate together- we can pray to see what might be best for Aroo."

"No." I deflect.

" No, I'm going in the living-room."

And I put the scooter in reverse hitting a door jam. Forward again then reverse. Boom clunk, till I make it to the next room.

AROO, A NEW ARC (PART 5) WITNESSING A TERRIBLE THING

I call my sister. My sister tells me to call Mattie. 

I call Mattie (but she doesn't pick up) so I call Susan and tell her to come over. 

"NOW."

"I was going to wait until Mattie gets there."

"No, come now, take a cab. NOW."

I call the animal hospital in Chelsea, but they're closing and tell me I'll have to wait and bring him in the morning.

"That's no good" I tell them, him, whoever.

They give me the name of a vet who makes home visits. I call and leave a message for her. 

(When I leave messages (now) I have to begin by apologizing for my speech, "you'll have to listen carefully," I say, "because I have some difficulty speaking.")

The travelling vet (later) leaves a message that she is traveling out of town. I will have to bring Aroo to a 24 hour hospital in midtown, the human equivalent of a cold, desperate, emergency room.

After making my calls, I wait on the scooter. 

I am  continually on the scooter like a little kid in love with his Big Wheel.

Jackie unpacks recently delivered organic groceries... and I begin to laugh.

"You're laughing Charlie, what's so funny?"

The soaring drama?

The unfolding disaster?

The complete lack of control?

I'm held in time.

Witnessing a terrible thing makes me feel giddy.

"I'm not sure, Jackie."

AROO, A NEW ARC (PART 4)

Tuesday.

Jackie crawls under the bed and barks,

"That cat! Charlie, I'm telling you, it's no good! That cat is going. He's gone!"

Jackie's dramatic delivery is naked and realistic. She shakes her head. She won't look me in the eye. I tighten into a ball on my scooter.

"What should I do? Jackie? What should I do?"

She looks me, level and earthy,

"call someone, Charlie, YOU have to call someone. This is too much. Get that cat to a doctah. Now!"

As Jackie speaks we hear a bone-chilling moan from beneath the bed.  The pitch and styling of the  meow is unfamiliar to me, like there could be another animal under the bed with Aroo.

9th

HUDSON

AROO, A NEW ARC (PART 3)

Sunday morning, I text Nat.

"Do you have five minutes?"

Nat takes an elevator down to my apartment (on the ninth floor) from his (on the eleventh).
He's in my apartment in two minutes.

(I've worked with Nat in summer stock (years ago): "Charlie's Aunt", "Little Shop", "The Matchmaker".
We became reunited when he married a mutual friend in my building. We now run into each other in the lobby, the elevator, the new little park outside the building. Our high-rise feels like, one long, vertical city block).

"Can you take a look at Aroo?"

"Sure I can." Nat whistles with two fingers "Aroo!" and drags the cat out from under the bed.

Aroo appears doped up and ever so annoyed.

"Hey there little fella, how you doin' there little fella?"

Nat's relationship to the cat is very male.  No "sweet baby" comments. No "aren't you a good lil' boy?" coos. Nat is warmly abrasive like a little league coach.

"You gonna eat buddy? Huh? How bout some grub?"

Aroo is unreachable.

"What do you think, Nat" I ask glumly.

And I ask everyones' opinion - Spiro the doorman, my sister, my neighbor Tina.  And each person I ask, I hope will unveil the ideal solution - that they'll launch a strong objection to my haplessness - take over, heal the cat, and I'll be off the hook. "Nat seemed to feel he needed some kind of a shot?- I guess?.. and whisked him away, he's fine now," I'd say to anyone who asked.

But all Nat offers is,

"Charlie, I think Aroo's having sympathy pains" - (meaning, the cat is sick because I'm sick).

Ugh.

We concentrate on Aroo.  We stare at Aroo like hopeful vacationers scanning the sky for a break in the bad weather.

But the delirious cat dissociates and slinks back to the black beneath the bed.

Pier 84

Pier 84
Originally uploaded by Charlie Roberts