Voice
A bell chimes my welcome as I step into an old street car diner. No customer minds my entrance. The waitresses dress in the colors of spring like a garden of orchids, marigolds, azaleas, pansies, lilacs, and magnolias. The walls are painted in floral arrangements like those that live in the waitresses’ dresses. The aroma of maple is dispersed throughout the diner. I sit at the bar atop a cushioned bar stool and place my briefcase down at my side upon the floor. The stature of this cushion lifts me to the heavens. I disregard the desire to order as I further survey the surroundings fresh to my eyes. I inhale.
A black and gray tabby cat struts atop the counter toward me with its tail waving from side-to-side with each step. This can’t be sanitary, I think. The waitress behind the counter slides a white saucer filled of milk to the tabby. The tabby stops at the white saucer. Its ears lower as it licks at the milk sensually and its tongue kisses the milk passionately with each lick. Its ears stand at attention atop its head as it notices my gaze. It looks over to me with its eye lids laying low over its blue eyes, yet stare deep into me. In the end it is me drowning in its deep blue eyes reaching out for the light at the surface. Its pink tongue rescues me as it licks its mouth clean.
“Have you ever drowned before?” The tabby asks.
My eyes widen as I look around to see if anyone else took notice to this wonder; however, to much dismay I am alone, stranded at sea to meet my demise.
“Has negligence stricken you?” The tabby asks. “I know you to acknowledge my existence.”
I swallow my astonishment and stutter, “N-no… I haven’t.”
“So he speaks. The voice of a man, yet tone of a meek cat,” the tabby says batting its eyes at me. The insults whip me with graceful intensity.
“Why do you ask?” I inquire firmly.
“Only to seek your negligence and lack of intellect,” the tabby says whipping the air with its tail.
I’m sinking to the ocean floor. Dry wit has released me to swim on my own. Thoughts and beliefs escape my mouth and form air bubbles floating to the surface. My drowning cries must be noticed soon as they are my reasons for living. It pains me to acknowledge that my cries may remain unheard.
“Voice is the greatest gift,” the tabby begins as it rescues me once again as it lays next to the white saucer with its limbs tucked beneath its underbelly. “If you fear not being heard, you will lose your voice. In other words, you will succumb. You will not have a voice at all.”
“Um,” I affirm my understanding with a slight nod.
“I know you to drown whenever your voice is lost and you seek someone else’s graces to save you. One day, if you are not careful, you will drown and the voice you once cared for will no longer matter to even you.”
I swallow the thought of my demise and begin to cough uncontrollably. The feeling of water being poured down my throat causes my heart to race and my hands to tremble. Tears escape me. The attempt to speak creates a knot in my throat.
“If I save you now,” the tabby begins staring into my eyes, “you will not learn to save yourself.”
Cold sweat rolls down my brow to the trails of tears that my mark my cheeks. I attempt to speak again, but the sound of me gargling water funnels out of my throat.
“Failed attempts call only for perseverance,” the tabby says as it stretches its limb across the countertop.
A chill lays me in its coffin. The tingling sensation of cold ice caresses my back. My tears and sweat freeze upon my face. Frozen petrifaction encases me and closes the coffin. The pace of my heart slows and frosted air escapes my breath. My eyes plea for the tabby to save me.
The tabby shakes its head and says, “What good is one with voice who knows not of how to use it? Your voice will be granted to someone else who may better utilize it. To have a voice of such power as yours and not use it is blasphemy. I am insulted that my words are wasted on you who will no longer have a voice. These words will reach even fewer now.”
My eyes begin to roll to the back of my head. The clinking of silverware on glass, whistling of a kettle, brewing of coffee, sizzling of cooking grease. All become faint. My vision is hazed. My eyelids heavy. The coffin now tightly sealed.
“For you to understand me and not be able to tell my findings to the world,” the tabby says solemnly, “pains me dearly. I thank you for listening.”
My heart slows pace to that of an adagio. The beating marks the measure. The notes of Beethoven’s “Moonlight Sonata,” first movement sings within me.
“My voice is my own,” I speak. My beating heart pulsates against the ice that encases me. “The sound which echoes through me is of myself and belongs to me only. I have used my voice in times of war and in times of peace. My voice which enlightens the mind I use to touch the hearts of those around me. My voice is my own and my own alone.”
The ice fractures. It shatters and shards of ice shoot out from around me. The shards of ice pierce the windows with great intensity and break about the surface of the wall paper. The floral arrangements drink to this occurrence. An awakening that only nature notices. The waitresses and other customers know not of this happening. A spiritual awakening seen only by enlightened eyes. The waitress behind the counter looks over to me.
“I’m happy that you are able to understand that tabby completely, suga.” The waitress says as she walks over to me.
“Why is that?” I inquire.
“A few passersby have come to speak with the tabby, but don’t know what he’s sayin’ and know only of him speakin’. But you, suga, knew exactly what he said as if you knew his foreign language. I believe you will do right by the tabby’s wishes,” the waitress says with a smile.