A door is an object that separates
Here from there Now from later Seen from unseen
Do you go through? Are things better
There? Later? Unseen?
I see the strip of light Underneath it And I hear the voices, activity Through it I feel the vibrations In it
What’s on the other side? A door opened can never be closed again Not really
“It’s not wrong if the person has too much and they’re an asshole. It’s more of a public service,” Mark always said. That’s why they became the Robbin’ Hoods.
Technically, he and his sister Tamara were serial thieves. They stole from wealthy people and corporations. Then they “provided” to unofficial charities of their choosing. They took a maintenance fee, of course. 10%.
It started when Jimmy Douchebag crowed around in 8th grade like he was the king of the school. His name was really Jimmy Deauchamp. But Mark dubbed him Jimmy Douchebag, in the first week of school. He made it a game to steal something of value from Jimmy about once a month. Then he would sell it and pay off someone’s lunch debt or library fine, or buy something he knew another kid needed.
One time he stole Jimmy’s new Air Jordan’s from the locker room during gym class. He sold them on Facebook Marketplace for $100. That $90 paid off 7 lunch debts.
Jimmy stupidly left his iPad on the bleachers one day during lunch. That transaction took some time to complete. Tamara grabbed it, but they had to find out his username and password. It was worthless unless they could put it back to factory settings. And they needed his AppleID and password to do it. On a whim, Mark stole Jimmy’s wallet. Bingo, Jimmy had several passwords written on a card, including his Apple ID and password. Problem solved.
The iPad brought in $300. Well, $270 after their fee. A week later, the Smithson family received a package with some new school clothes for their 5 year old and 7 year old boys.
As the years went on, Mark and Tamara built a small Robbin’ empire. They even registered a corporation to launder the money. They called it RobHo. It was ostensibly a house cleaning service. In 2021 they reported $178,393.00 in earnings. And 23 rich people were out about $1.7 million in goods and cash.
The last heist was the most lucrative. Jillian Benson, heiress to the Johnson fortune, owned most of the apartment buildings in the area. She contracted RobHo to clean her own house. Mark and Tamara cleaned her house, and cleaned her out of a $500,000 necklace. They had a duplicate made, worth about $200. They replaced it the next time they cleaned. Jillian wore it to a charity event a few months later. It was in the papers. She looked gorgeous. No harm done.
$450,000 in college scholarships helped 8 deserving kids pay for four years of college each.
But this time, they may have gone too far. Someone knows. Mark received an email that said: “I know. And you know what I know. Tomorrow you will put $5k in a trash bag and leave it in the rubbish bin at the Bellwood Park. Or the police get a copy of this.” Attached was a picture of the two of them, holding the necklace when they showed it to their secret buyer. Someone was watching. But who?
There are dollops of light prickling through curtains, blinds. Time for the morning meal. I have an ache in my belly and a feeling of panic. Nourishment is my sole purpose for existing right now. Nothing else crosses my mind except trying not to die.
Mom already went to the outer place. She will be gone until the sun is past the top of the sky, and we are heading towards darkness again. The Elders are on the sleeping rectangle, in their chamber. Aero and Petra sleep there too. They are the elder cats. It’s appropriate. They guard the elders at night. I guard and protect Mom. My brother Peanut, her favorite, also “guards.” But he’s no guard. He is soft and spoiled. I protect him too. He is incapable. My other brother Smokey is the weird one. Sometimes he sleeps outside. Sometimes he sleeps in Mom’s chair, sometimes with Peanut, Mom, and me. Sometimes he sleeps with the elders. He really has no direction.
I perch on the square by the sleeping rectangle, watching the Female Human. She wakes up earlier than the Male. I wish her to wake up with all my staring ability, my gaze unfaltering. We are in an urgent situation. The food bowls are empty. This is how we hunt. This is how we survive.
After a few minutes, Aero sits up and begins to watch too. Two staring is better than one. I see movement the corner of my eye. It’s my brother Smokey. He is across the room on the other hard rectangle thing where they keep their body coverings. Three watching now. So much power. It shouldn’t be long.
Petra continues to sleep. Useless old lady. She’s my grandmother but that means nothing in cat world. I keep her in line.
An eternity later, The Female Human opens her eyes. She shows her teeth but not in the aggressive way. It’s the way where I usually get rubbed and talked to in a soothing voice. I like it. She stands on her hind legs and picks up some of her human tools: The rectangle with pictures that she stares at a lot, the other rectangle with the things she puts in her ears, the thing she derives water from, and the black thing with little windows that go in front of her eyes during the day.
She heads to the food room. All three of us plop to the floor and follow. Four now. Petra has woken up and will reap the benefits of mine, Aero’s, and Smokey’s hard work. Of course freeloader Peanut comes scurrying in from Mom’s room. So five.
When all five bowls had been filled, I said “Oh thank you Mother Cat God. We will survive a few more hours.” The Female refills our drinking fountain and starts to brew that black horrible smelling stuff the Humans drink in the mornings. Then the best noise ever. Crack, swish. She has opened the wet, creamy stuff. My favorite. I can’t help but cry out over and over, “mou, mou, MOU!” We all do. It’s more excitement than any of us can bear.
The Female places a scoop into Petra’s bowl. Why her? I’m hungry too. So I push Petra out of the way and start to gulp. The Female sounds perturbed and says my name. Well it’s her fault for not giving me some of the good stuff. She continues to scoop, giving everyone some of the good stuff. I finish mine and start in on Peanut’s. The Female doesn’t see so I got about half of his.
I follow The Female to the couch. She sits, then rests her ugly white hind paws on the table. I sit on her belly and purr. I’m so full and happy and warm. She is ignoring me! Looking at the rectangle thing and not petting me. I knock it with my head. That usually makes her stop. But I have to do it a few times before I get my way. I rub my cheeks on it. It smells like her and I want it to smell like me too. I like her because she feeds me. She rubs me all over and it’s so nice. Ahhh, puurrr. Eyes are slipping closed…zzzzzz
Awake! I need to clean myself. I lick and lick. Eww, smells like Peanut. I must have bumped him when I was stealing his food. Lick that off. Gone. Good.
And now I sleep. Deep sleep.
Abrupt wake up again. The Female is rising up from the couch. In the middle of my nap. Something about “Sorry.” Then something about “coffee.” I don’t know what those mean but I’m done with her today. Incredibly rude.
I go in the little house Mom got me and snooze until the sun has moved almost to the center of the sky. I’m hungry again. And I see a bug. It’s the good tasting kind. I will play with it and toss it around first because I am a wild animal, top of the food chain, I open my mouth to roar. It still sounds like a “Meow,” but it feels roary. I feel roary. I am the Queen of this Castle. I am Zora.
I’m puzzled, a puzzle Fragmented segments of everything ‘til now Jigsawed, jagged, overlapping, yet stippled, laying bare splinters of vulnerability, defect, inadequacy I can’t wash it clean. I can’t disguise the rot and hurt and stink I can only append, adjoin, affix New zigsaws Pillowy lumps of smiles, warm muffins, time with family Shards of heartbreak, grief, sour grapes, and lost games of chance Neat, clean lines for a job well done, a goal achieved, hope for the future It’s all there, making me me, a me that evolves with each experience Cocooned in the fragmented segments of everything ‘til now
