A Miniature Gray Cat 

by Leann Thornley 

“I just don’t know what I did wrong,” I told myself as I sat on my tear-soaked comforter, covered in snot and embarrassment. A deadly disease ran rampant through the ventricles and atriums of my 15 year-old, the end-all-be-all of infections - teenage heartbreak. The loss of my very first boyfriend poisoned my heart more and more as the minutes went on, and with it came feelings of hopelessness. I found myself going back through every moment I ever spent with him, analyzing each word that rolled off my tongue to see if I said anything potentially hurtful, but I couldn’t see any. How could he just throw 3 months down the drain? I thought to myself, thinking this was the worst pain I would ever endure. 

I hesitantly lifted myself off my bed and laid my cold feet on the floor, and cowardly walked toward the bathroom to grab tissues for my leaking nose. I stood in the mirror and stared intently at myself, agonizing over my red puffy eyes, chapped lips and swollen clownish nose. No wonder he doesn’t want to be with me, I’m not even pretty, I thought. I was so engulfed in the pain that I jumped back when I heard a knock on the white door frame outside the bathroom. 

“Oh, Brooke, what are you doing here?” I asked my little sister as she stood looking up at me. Brooke’s big, blue eyes stared eagerly at mine as her thimble fingers played with the hem of her pink unicorn pajama shirt. 

“You wanna play wit- me, Wee-ann?” she asked me so innocently, speaking in that cute “toddler accent”, not yet able to pronounce the “L” beginning my name. 

I sighed, and nodded my head. I walked into her pink-butterfly room, scattered with books, stuffed animals and rainbow stacking blocks. I sat criss-cross-applesauce on the floor in my snot-covered hoodie and sweatpants, feeling out of place wearing all black in a room full of sparkles, starting to feel myself dive back into my vicious cycle of overthinking, when I felt the cool wet hair of my sister on my neck. I looked to my left and she was hugging my left arm, staring at me with her big, blue eyes that expressed slight concern. The smell of her hair-detangler brought me a sense of comfort as I remembered all of our fun play-baths together, or how my fingers ran through her thin blonde hair as I braided it in the mornings. 

Brooke suddenly let go of my arm, ran in front of me with such exhilarating excitement, and began to dance. Was it a good dance? No, it wasn’t. She was stomping her foot while spinning in circles, whipping her head and chanting LA-LA-LA-LA, extremely uncoordinated, and I found myself laughing at the sheer comical nature of what I was witnessing. 

She stopped dead in her tracks, pulled up her flowery pajama pants, ran quickly over to me and grabbed my red tear-stained cheeks in her delicate hands. She grinned as she molded the flesh on my face into millions of silly expressions, laughing in pure innocence every time she made a new face. 

“Wee-ann, Wee-ann, I got to brush yo- hai-wah!” Brooke exclaimed. 

She ran over to the dresser and grabbed a plastic gold princess brush, and began to run it through my very knotted hair. She was humming a cheesy lullaby as she abused my head while relentlessly yanking through my knots, until she finally finished her salon work, adjusted my hair a few more times, and smiled a true loving smile. 

“You wook so pwetty!” she exclaimed. My heart swelled, and a smile creeped onto my face at the compliment. 

“Thank you, baby,” I said to her. She giggled. 

She put the brush back, grabbed a book, her favorite stuffed animal - a miniature gray cat with a pink bow - and plopped down into my lap. She positioned the cat into the crook of my arm, and began to “read” me a book, one which I could not deduce the context of because Brooke couldn’t read. While I was attempting to catch glimpses of the fast-turning pages, I thought to myself, why is she trying to read ME a book? Usually, she asks ME to read. Even more confusion racked my brain as I saw her cat on my arm, a cat she so rarely separates from her grip, wondering what her change of heart was. 

Then, I realized she brought me in here to cheer me up. The dancing, the “reading”, bringing me her favorite stuffy - even at such a young tender age, she saw I was sad, and wanted to change that. She wanted to clean my hair, make me laugh, and bring me her comforting toy, hoping it would bring me the same sense of safety it brought her. This experience taught me that you can find support and love in the most unlikely places, and all it takes is one person to turn your day around - even if they don’t know what’s going on.