Fishing Cats

Morning caught him off guard again – as always. He got out of bed, but Fluffie was nowhere to be found – not a trace, not a hair. After searching every corner, he stood in bewilderment, but still had the presence of mind to get properly dressed before announcing the cat's disappearance to Frau Schicklbraun.

Five minutes later, he was tapping on the door with his cane.

“Oh,” she opened the door wide. “I didn’t expect you this early, but come in – an agreement’s an agreement.”

Fluffie ran up to him and began rubbing affectionately against his legs.

“You know,” he saw the cat and felt relieved that at least he wouldn’t have to explain her disappearance, “I can come back later. Sorry for being so early… couldn’t sleep, you see…”

“Oh, come on now, come on,” she waved him in generously.

He bowed slightly and stepped inside. The apartment had the exact same layout, but smelled pleasantly of apples.

“Please, have a seat, have a seat.”

The apple smell came from the oven.

“Baking already this early?”

“It’s not for you, don’t get any ideas. I just do this on Saturdays.”

Fluffie licked her lips contentedly.

“You’re not getting any.”

As if she understood, Fluffie snorted and wiped her face with a paw.

His head was already spinning from the Frau Schicklbraun´s fussing, but out of gratitude for her hospitality, he didn’t show it – after all, there was no one else to talk to. Finally, she finished her preparations, poured the tea, and sat across from him with a look of expectation.

“Oh! What am I waiting for!” she suddenly exclaimed. “First of all, thank you for yesterday. I hope I didn’t wake you last night?”

“No, but your cat…”

“Oh yes, she’s like that, you know. Loves to go wandering at night – scratches at the door, or was it the window?”

“No, she…”

“You know,” Frau Schicklbraun cut him off again, “she really liked you – hasn’t taken her eyes off you, and not just her eyes.”

Fluffie had indeed made herself comfortable on his lap and began purring, eyes half-closed.

He suddenly remembered that fragmented phrase from yesterday.

“Frau Schicklbraun?”

“Yes?”

“What do you know about modern cats?”

Again, he marveled at the absurdity of his own question, though it wasn’t quite as ridiculous as the one about cold and frozen lips.

“A lot, actually,” this time the question seemed perfectly reasonable to her. “Wait a bit, I think you’ll find this interesting too. Who knows, maybe you’ll want to get your own cat?”

“I’m afraid,” he sighed hoarsely, “that any cat I get now would outlive me…”

“Oh, nonsense,” she waved dismissively, pulling warm printouts from the printer. “Don’t be silly.”

“I´m eighty-two years old, Frau Schicklbraun,” he smiled ruefully.

“Well then,” she returned to the table and handed him a red folder, “here,” she slapped her palm on it as if sealing the deal, “is all the information on modern cats.”

“Wow,” he said in surprise, “so you can print the entire internet like this?”

“What, all in red folders?”

“Well…”

“Noooo,” she laughed. “It doesn’t work that way. You'll have to settle for cats. But tell me – you didn’t come just for the cats, did you?”

“Well, truthfully…”

“Cold lips” – no good. “Modern cats” – already covered. “Digital demon” – complete nonsense.

Now she was definitely looking at him expectantly.

“To be honest… I don’t remember what I’m doing here or for how long.”

She raised her eyebrows.

“I mean… yes, I have an apartment here, even a car, apparently, but… I don’t know where any of it came from… and you, Frau Schicklbraun… you’re so kind.”

“So you… didn’t receive the letters?”

“Letters?” he straightened. “No… of course not. No one writes to me. Like I´m a some kind of a colonel,” he chuckled awkwardly.

Frau Schicklbraun covered her face with her hands.

“What a fool I am… wait just a moment, I beg you…”

She jumped up from the table and rushed toward the cupboard, sweeping aside all sorts of things from the shelves as she went.

“Here,” she returned with a stack of letters. “Read, my dear, drink your tea and read.”

“What, right now?” he stared in disbelief.

“Absolutely,” confirmed Frau Schicklbraun, her eyes gleaming.

He opened the first letter:

"Dear Papa, whether you remember me or not, I will still write to you, wherever you are. But most importantly – I know where you are, and that’s enough. Papa, my dear, I’m sorry I can’t come and hug you in person, but no one can take us away from each other. You are forever mine, and I am forever yours, and it doesn’t even matter if you read my letter or not. Just know that there is someone who loves you – unconditionally and always.
Alina Offenbauer."

His eyes began to shine with tears.

“But… I… don’t know her,” he managed to whisper.

“That’s alright,” said Frau Schicklbraun. “Keep reading.”

All the other letters he read that day at Frau Schicklbraun’s table were soaked in the same sincere, daughterly love.

“But… why, why…”

He couldn’t make sense of anything anymore. It wasn’t the confusion or lack of knowledge that frightened him – it was the cold spreading from his heels to the tips of his lips. Like then. Like every night. Even warm, purring Fluffie on his lap didn’t help. The knowledge that dawned on him was too much to bear. He pressed his forehead to the table and began to weep silently. Startled, Fluffie jumped down. But what did it matter…

She watched.

“Breathe. Raise your head. Look at me. Calm. Breathe. That’s it. The fact that you don’t remember anything, that you don’t know anything – that’s alright, my dear, it’s absolutely alright.”

Frau Schicklbraun poured more tea.

“There, calm down. Breathe. Relax. More breathing. Drink some tea – it’s not hot, I diluted it, don’t worry.”

He took a sip.

“Wonderful. Try the pie. It’s a wonderful apple pie – all the neighbors love it.”

He nodded gratefully, took a bite, chewed half, washed it down with tea, sat still as if mesmerized – and then: the tears flowed again, chewed bits of pie mixed with tea fell from his mouth. The old man sobbed uncontrollably and lowered his head onto Frau Schicklbraun’s lap.

“My dear,” she began gently, “dear – do you hear me?”

The old man sobbed.

“There, there,” she stroked his head like a child’s. “It’s alright. It’s completely alright. There’s nothing to be ashamed of. I understand. There, there. Anyone would go mad from this. Anyone in your place would break down, after believing for so long that he was alone in the whole world, with not a single blood relative left. But that’s not true, my dear, not true,” she continued stroking his head, “you have a daughter. A wonderful daughter who loves you very much. You’re very lucky.”

“So,” he lifted his head from her lap, sniffling, “her last name is Offenbauer?”

“Of course,” replied Frau Schicklbraun with a calm smile.

“Then I,” he sat up straight, blew his nose into a napkin, took a sip of tea, and asked firmly and clearly, “am also Offenbauer?”

“Well, you know,” she spread her hands with the same calm smile, “not necessarily. Women tend to change their names throughout life.”

“Well, that’s true,” he fell silent and looked down at the mess he had made. “Frau Schicklbraun,” his eyes teared up again, “forgive an old man,” he wiped his eyes with his sleeve, “I couldn’t hold it in.”

“There, there,” she was already patting her face with a towel. “All’s forgiven and forgotten. There’s nothing to forgive. It’s not your fault you don’t remember anything. Want me to tell you a secret?”

“Don’t keep me waiting,” he clutched his chest.

She gathered herself and said gently but firmly:

“The third time, my dear, this is the third time I’ve told you this. The third time you’ve cried on my lap like a little child. The third time you’ve rediscovered your ‘lost daughter.’ The first time, I cried myself — from your genuine and unfeigned joy. The second time, I thought perhaps you were playing a trick on me, but you were so convincing that no actor could have matched it. So, I decided to make sure — and I was right. My dear — now there was a hint of pity in her gaze — it seems you’re unwell. But no matter — she squeezed his hand tightly —I suspected as much, I almost knew it. That’s why I kept the correspondence to myself, held onto it till the very end, and warned Alina not to meet you, because I didn’t know which of you it would hurt more — not recognizing each other. Your letters — they’re yours now, all of them, and all that will follow. I won’t hide anything from you anymore. Take them, read them, and forgive me — saying this, Frau Schicklbraun handed him the whole stack.

He stood up, flushed and tearful, even shakier on his feet than usual.

“But tell me… how can I reach her?”

“I’m afraid all we can do is wait,” Frau Schicklbraun shook her head sadly. “Your daughter is on Soltari now. A beautiful, truly paradise-like island,” — she rolled her eyes sarcastically —“cut off from the external network. Regular mail also takes ages to arrive…”

He lowered his head.

“I’ll be sure to let you know. Take the letters and go. Or then again, no need — you’re welcome to stay and have some more tea and a slice of my apple pie. I’m not throwing you out,” she added, completely switching back from intimate candor to her usual brisk and bustling manner.

Fluffie was pleased to note the easing of the tearful atmosphere and began licking its other paw.

“No, it's fine, thank you. Truly, thank you for everything,” he almost teared up again. “I’ll be going now.”

“My dear,” Frau Schicklbraun called after him, “try not to end up sobbing in my lap a fourth time,” she smiled. “And oh yes — take this.” She handed him a packet of violet pills. “You’ve been taking these for quite a while, haven’t you? A very decent sedative — I’m afraid you might need it, considering everything we’ve said and discussed…”

He was deeply grateful for everything, but couldn’t bear any more chatter and shut the door behind him.