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Bea takes the cigarette out of her mouth and exhales.
She stares off into space, her golden eyes holding a lifetime of exhaustion in them.
"A cat?"
I nod. The lack of judgement in her voice encourages me, although not as much as the alcohol.
"Like out of a Pixar movie. A big, black cat, standing on two legs and wearing my clothes. She even has my highlights in her hair."
Bea raises her eyebrows ever so slightly. More of a 'whaddya know' than a 'what the hell', I think.
"You're pretty fucked up, Mae." She says bluntly.
My cheeks burn.
"I don't know if it's a mental illness, or... I mean, I guess I don't know what else it could be. But you know. I've never told anyone about it. It just goes hand in hand with the rest of my garbage in my head."
"Yeah? How so?"
My paw trembles a bit. Hand. Whatever. "None of it feels like real life. I feel like... Like I press a button, and I jump. I hold down a stick, and I run."
"Like a videogame." Bea finishes, and for a moment my eyes cross.
"Right. I see everything in shapes. And people are all animals to me. I mean, literally. It's why I have such a hard time, sometimes... Considering the consequences of my actions."
"Your crimes."
"Crimes." I fill in automatically.
She takes another drag and cranes her head to the night sky. The roof of the car creaks under her as she shifts next to me.
"I guess I get it. Things feel pretty unreal sometimes."
"It's all the time for me. I try to ignore it." I look into the sky with her, trying to see what she sees. "But it does suck sometimes, not really knowing what anyone looks like. When I get up in the morning, I see myself in the mirror, and I think 'my fur's really ruffled today'. But of course, I don't have fur. And if my skin looks ugly, I won't know. I'll never know."
The night air is cool and sweet.
Bea speaks again.
"What do you see me as?"
"Huh? Oh. Don't laugh."
She's already cracking a smile. "Sure."
I swallow.
"Alligator."
She immediately goes back on her promise. "Ha. Really?"
"You said you wouldn't laugh."
"No, just- that's kinda cool. Me, an alligator." She smiles her big toothy grin, cracking open her long snout. The one that isn't real.
I'm emboldened to elaborate. "With your spikes down your back, and your black eyeshadow on. And that cig always clutched in your mouth. Big, yellow eyes."
"Ha. They're brown, y'know."
I shake my head, thoughts swirling. "I didn't know. That's the first time I found that out. Can you believe that?"
"I don't know. I kind of wish I could see like that." She admits.
"It gets old." I assure.
"Am I a pretty alligator?" She asks me out of the blue.
I sit up straighter, and turn to face her, speaking without an ounce of irony. "You're the prettiest alligator in Possum Springs."
That gets her.
"Love you, kitty."
"Love you too, Bea."
Silence. Swigs. Drags. My foot-paw fiddles with the broken glass of the windshield I threw a rock through twenty minutes earlier.
"I know you don't really enjoy it, and I don't want to make light of it." Bea says. "But it does seem like it would make things a little more interesting. Even if it's a hindrance, would you rather live in a world full of humans?"
I shake my head honestly. "I don't know if it would change anything. Skin or scales or fur. People are all the same."
"You don't think that. Not really." Bea thinks. "Otherwise, we'd all be the same animal. All cats, or all gators. Right?"
I shrug. I don't really believe there's any rhyme or reason to my hallucinations. I also don't want to shoot her down.
"I guess. It doesn't change anything anyway. It's just a coat of paint for me."
"It's the way you see things. It's, uh... It's your real life." Bea fumbles with her words, trying to be as encouraging vocally as she is mentally. "Maybe everyone else is the crazy ones. Maybe humans aren't real."
"God, I wish. Society might be better if it were actually run by talking cats."
Bea shakes her head, giving up. "I don't know. I feel like I'm trying to teach you a lesson here, or change your worldview or whatever. You know it doesn't change anything. You're still my Maeday."
"It's alright. I'm just glad I could tell someone."
She leans towards me, and bumps her forehead against mine. I smell nicotine on her breath.
She leans back, and I try not to blush anymore.
"So... Angus." She says.
"Bear." I answer.
Bea looks at me, bemused. "Because he's gay?"
"No! Because- I don't know how it chooses. Gregg is a fox, okay?"
"Whoof. Here I thought you'd be above going after a taken guy. Or a taken bear."
"Shush."
Somewhere in the night, a housecat slinks away from us.