It was a squaring-off between two alpha bitches.

I felt my lips pull back from my teeth. The hospital room was small and the air conditioner clicked on so my warning growl was not audible.

We both pretended that I was smiling.

"Its about time." She said. "Don't you ever check your messages? I could have died and you might not have been here to dance naked in celebration."

"Hello, Mother."

"I almost died." She spoke in a conversational prattle, using the same voice she would use to tell her friends the latest gossip at one of their pathetic soirees.

"Close doesn't count."

"Well, I'm sorry to disappoint you, dear. But, don’t worry, no one can blame you.” She smiled, at last showing her teeth. “I had you written out of my will ages ago to remove your incentive."

"Ah, Mother —" This time I really did smile. " — as if I needed money as an incentive to do you in."

"Such a wonderful child." She was embarrassed as I looked around the room. There were monitors that beep-beep-beeped. She tried to hide her vulnerability by making prissy little folds in the fabric of her robe and avoiding eye contact.

"Are you still seeing that psychiatrist you've told me so much about?" Her assumption that I needed a psychiatrist had always been a sore spot. As a distraction, it was very effective, too.

I hadn't told her anything about a psychiatrist. First, because it wasn’t any of her business; and, because I was sleeping with him and didn't think that was any of her business, either; and, because he wasn’t a psychiatrist, he was a veterinarian.

"No. I had a breakthrough and he deemed me cured." I sat down in the chair beside her bed and waited for the inevitable cross-examination.

"I see." She lifted one of her excruciatingly perfect eyebrows.

"I started having some odd dreams and the doctor was Freudian." I said.

She nodded, but she didn't know. Neither did I. I was making things up as I went along.

"One night I dreamed about a cat." I told her.

"A cat?" She shuddered delicately. "I am horribly allergic to cat dander."

Yes. I knew she was.

"Yes. A cat." I said.

"And…? What happened in your dream?"

"Well, I dreamed there was something wrong with it." I wondered if I could drive her totally crazy in one brief conversation. I’d been wanting to for years.

"And…?" Both brows disappeared under the perfect blonde bangs she cultivated to hide the creases that might imply that she was older than I.

"I dreamed I had a little cat, but the kitty-cat had no tongue. So, I had to lick it."

"Ye Gods!" She looked horrified. "You did what?"

"My shrink said I was sublimating lesbian feelings and when I acted on my desires — as a lesbian — I would be cured." I smiled lovingly and wondered if her head would explode. "So, I did.”

"You did what?"

"Well, I did Lou, actually. She’s this big, tough biker gal. She takes good care of me and I'm truly happy." I said.

Tears were starting to form. I wanted to bite and tear something; to fold, spindle and mutilate. Of all things, including plague, famine and pestilence, I hate tears most.

"Come here, Katherine." She lifted her arms to me.

Suddenly, she was holding me as I cried like I have never cried before.

"But I didn't die." She whispered.

"I appreciate that," I said, sobbing out the words. "You always told me I'd be the death of you." I reached up and touched her wet face.

"Well, I knew how much it meant to you," she said.

"I love you, Mom." I leaned forward and rested my wet cheek against hers.

§ § §

Vickilynn Sheppard is a solitary woman, soon to enter the 'crone' stage of life. She fights with claws and fangs, but the outcome is inevitable.

She anticipates a serene future, once the sole chick as fled the nest, that will include lots of books and movies, a few cats, odd and eclectic collectibles (things no one else would want to collect) and frequent visits from a few treasured friends and the grandchildren-to-come.

— and lots and lots of time to write the stories that float around inside her head.

This piece was first published in INK POT #2 - 2003, a literary journal.

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