Counting On Kitty

(One)

Hello everyone!

Please allow me to introduce myself!

My name is Rachel (Sullivan) Porter. I’m best known as Kitty. I’m told that nickname came about because I liked cats as a little girl, although now I don’t like them so much. I remember getting scratched up badly by a strange cat, and had to go to the doctor and get a shot. Maybe that made me become a dog person; I don’t know. All my friends and relatives call me Kitty; if a stranger calls on the phone and calls me Rachel, I know they are a stranger and I hang up - an especially satisfying thing to do for those pesky sales calls.

I’m seventy-three, a widow of many years and I have five children, scattered all over the country, and three grandchildren. I live in the house that my husband and I had built when the kids were young. My modest house sits on a generous three acre lot - I like space around me. Even with the children grown up and gone, I never saw any reason to move, although I sometimes wonder if my children, at least some of them, think I should give it up. (I think that they think that keeping up the house is too much for me to handle.) But I have it all worked out: a neighborhood brother and sister team takes care of mowing the lawn in summer, leaves in autumn and snow in the winter. A cleaning company comes in once a month to deep clean the house; otherwise, I cook, clean and do laundry all by myself. So, you see, I can care for myself just fine.

My childhood was calm (except maybe for the cat incident); my parents were good people and raised me well. I had no brothers or sisters, but even though I could have been spoiled as an only child, I wasn’t. I was glad to be able to spend time with my Sullivan grandparents, who both fostered my love of plants. I would follow them both around the gardens they had. My Grandmother raised chickens, too, so I would help her feed them and gather the eggs. My mother’s parents had died long before I was born; I was sorry that I missed them.

I did fine through school and enjoyed it. I liked to learn things; my teachers said that I had an inquisitive mind, so I know a bunch of really obscure and sometimes, stupid, facts. After high school, I went to a nearby college (not too fancy), but enough to get me a teaching degree.

That’s where I met Dave. I thought he was the best thing since sliced bread, and he said the same thing about me. We got married right after we both graduated. And then we were grownups! Sometimes, being grownup is not all it’s cracked up to be; I think we all know that. Even so, Dave and I enjoyed our married years together. Sure, there were hard times but we managed. Most people do.

I had taught the third grade at the local elementary school until the children started to arrive, then Dave and I decided together that I should be home for the kids. I never minded being a stay-at-home-mom - I got a lot of satisfaction seeing them all grow up well. I never felt that I missed out on a career by being home. Too many young women do, you know. I kept up with current events and read the newspapers religiously, so didn’t feel out of touch with the world. And I never felt stupid for being at home. If anyone ever looked down on me for that choice, they sure found out in a hurry that they were messing with the wrong person. I helped out at school whenever they needed me: class parties, field trips, all that stuff, so I was included at most of my children’s events.

Oh, one thing to mention here: my parents didn’t live long enough to see their grandchildren start to arrive; they would have enjoyed seeing them all. That fact can make me sad if I think on it too long. Oh well.

I’m in excellent health, exercise regularly, don’t smoke, drink or do dope. I have to admit that I like candy - who doesn’t? So, if I have one vice, it’s candy bars. Oh, and Coke (not the dope kind, the other kind.) So make that two vices, although I try not to drink too much. It is the perfect thing, though, after a long, hot day digging in the dirt. Sammy (my black cocker spaniel) and I sit on the patio and I enjoy a long, cold drink while I put my feet up.

I spend tons of time in my gardens, both flower and vegetable, and am president of the local garden club. I’m also in the local farmer’s market organization, and sell produce sometimes if I have a good crop.

My friends and I get together every other week to play cards; poker is a favorite, and I’m pretty good at it, too. We play for glory only, but keep track of wins and losses and the overall winner and loser for the month gets a prize. Nothing elaborate, just a fun thing. I’m in charge of picking out the prizes; I go to the local novelty shop or thrift shop and try to find something appropriate, like a whoopy cushion. If I am the winner (or loser), I still pick out my prize and I try to find something that I’ll like, haha! Once, I found an old issue of Cosmopolitan magazine, the one that had the naked picture of Burt Reynolds in it. The winner that got that was thrilled! Anyway, enough about that subject.

I have a dog (I told you about him) and a parakeet, Buster. Sammy stays by my side when I’m at home and misses me when I leave. Buster sits in his cage in the sunroom and makes noises at me when I talk to him. The sunroom is a pleasant place to sit, whatever the weather. I can look out over the lawn and enjoy the change of seasons. I’m sure glad that we put it on the house; it’s my favorite spot.

I like to read, although not as much as I used to, as I lose interest pretty quickly with some of the books that come out every year. Television bores me, as it isn’t as good as it used to be, either, although there are a few programs that I enjoy. I like old black and white movies and I did like The Sopranos when it was on - I related to the idea that they took care of their own as long as everyone did as they should. I only watch the news for the weather forecast. I get tired of the news people’s gloom-and-doom attitude, and really dislike the overuse of the word beloved. According to the news people, everything is beloved, from an actor that kicked the bucket from over-indulgence to the local tavern that burnt to the ground after a lightning strike. They need to find another word to use.

Oh, I do have a third vice - I like stuff. I’m a sucker for yard sales, flea markets and antique stores. As a result, I have things that I’ve bought over the years and also things that belonged to my parents and grandparents. No one else wanted anything of theirs and I couldn’t bear to throw everything away. So I have stuff. So sue me!

On to my children: as I mentioned, I have five, three boys and two girls. The list:

Daniel - right now, he’s forty-four. Lives about five hours from me and works as an accountant for a big firm that handles some major business accounts. He’s been divorced twice, and has no children from either marriage. He’s kind of a stuffed shirt, if you know what I mean.

Nancy - forty. She’s the manager at a coffee house, and I think that she’s good at what she does. Lives five hours from me, only in the opposite direction as Daniel. Never married; she told me she didn’t care and liked her solitary life, although I suspect she has man friends.

What’s that new-fangled phrase? Friends with benefits? I think that’s the one I’m thinking of. Anyway, I won’t ask and she wouldn’t tell me. That’s okay; she’s a grown woman, so who am I to judge?

Phillip - thirty-seven. He works as the head of a construction crew that works all over the country putting up those huge cell phone towers. His permanent address is four hours away but he can be found anywhere. He and his wife supplied me with my wonderful grandkids. He’s a great dad; he’s treated like a king when he returns from one of his jobs. He and his wife love each other very much and work well together, even with his absences.

Cynthia - thirty-three. She works and lives in the Big Apple, so is a long way from home. She is an attorney and doesn’t have time to be married. She also thinks she knows it all. Enough said.

Douglas - thirty-two. He is my oops baby; Dave and I thought we were all done, but along came Douglas; he can be as sweet as pie. He lives the closest to me at just under three hours away. He has his own landscaping business and I guess he got his love of dirt from me. He’s not married, either, but has a sweet girlfriend of many years. She probably tears her hair out at his slow-to-marry ways.

I guess that I should tell you more about my late husband, Dave. He was a good husband, father and provider. We had a good time together, if you know what I mean - I think some of my children would be embarrassed to hear that - I can just hear them now: Mom! Too much information! Unfortunately, he met his end when he missed a curve on the highway one rainy night. He’s been gone a long time; Douglas was only ten when he died. It was sure a hard road for a while but gradually things got better and we, as a family, managed. Sometimes it’s still hard to talk or even think about him. Once in a while, I run across something that reminds me of him, and I have to stop whatever I’m doing. His absence still makes me sad. So I won’t say anymore.

I know that seventy-three isn’t terribly old, but as each year passes, the window for life adventures gets smaller. One day I was thinking that I have some things that I regret not getting to do; most of us have that feeling at one time or another.

I would have liked to travel a little more than what I got to - once the kids started coming, it was hard to get away for an extensive vacation. I never had the urge for foreign travel - there are plenty of places in the good old USA that I wanted to see. I wanted to learn to play the banjo - why, I’ll never know, but, this is my dream, right? I wanted to see a whale swimming in the ocean. And, last but certainly not least, I always wanted to go see The Rolling Stones, live and in person. It just never worked out. My favorite song of theirs is Sympathy For The Devil. If you pull up beside me at a stoplight and I’m singing at the top of my lungs, you know that song is playing on the car radio.

So, that’s a little about me.

(Two)

Daniel

Daniel Porter sat at his expensive desk in his corner office, surrounded by windows. He could look out over the city - that is, when he had the time to look out over the city. There was always something that he had to tend to, which gave him very little time for sightseeing.

Daniel was the one that the junior accountants were told to see when they had a problem with an account, and that seemed to happen frequently. He’d get a buzz from his secretary, Jane, that so-and-so from this-or-that department had an issue that they couldn’t get resolved. Jane would allow this person to open the door and Daniel would look up to find a scared junior standing in the doorway looking very apprehensive about approaching the big desk.

But approach it they did, and Daniel would have to drop whatever he was doing to straighten their issue out. He would get the problem fixed and they’d stammer their thanks and almost bow as they went out the way they came in.

Daniel would then return to his own problems, some of them not related to any of the accounts that this firm had in their files.

This particular day, he had his most recent personal bank statement concealed in some other papers. It was this statement that was the pressing problem of the day. He dared to look at it with the hopes that another untimely buzz from Jane wouldn’t come. The record of withdrawals made his heart thump, since the cash and automatic debits taken almost daily from the account were easy to disregard on the I’ll think about this tomorrow basis, but seeing it laid out line after line on several sheets of paper was another thing altogether.

Yes, Daniel’s outgoing money was exceeding his incoming money, despite the six figures that he drew yearly. His city apartment was expensive, plus the two alimonies that he paid helped spend his income. However, as costly as those items were, nothing said let’s spend money! like gambling.

How on earth did I get started on this? he often thought to himself. Today, that thought was in the forefront of his mind. Months prior, he reluctantly went with some colleagues to Las Vegas - he had never been before, and it was certainly an eye-opener. (What Daniel didn’t know at the time was that this group of so-called friends had sat in a bar late one night, discussing their superior and had made it their mission to see if they could topple this very self- assured man. It was quite an amusing thing for them to contemplate.)

His friends were intent on showing him what he’d missed, and aside from the elaborate entertainment, the big draw was obviously the gambling. The group went to several casinos, but of course, anything and everything could be wagered on, so they went to one of the betting parlors, watching the odds on the sporting events. Daniel was especially attracted to horse racing, and so watched the off-track betting. One of the group encouraged him to put a few bucks down on a nag, and a few drinks and a few wins later, Daniel was hooked. By the time the men left Las Vegas, he’d spent a bit of money - finding that he didn’t win all of the time, but there was always the next race to look forward to.

On the return flight, one of the group, still halfway intoxicated, told him of all the on-line ways that he could gamble. I can even set you up with my bookie, he said, breathing boozily in Daniel’s face.

No, thanks, Daniel had replied.

He always tended to look down on people that were impulsive or had addictions, thinking that he would never be so undisciplined that some inanimate object could control him. So he was a little ashamed when he found himself, late one night, checking the different sites on the internet where he could sign up to bet on the ponies. It was relatively easy to do, and before he knew it, he was watching races from all over the world - and betting on them too.

He was also ashamed of the fact that he’d sought out the airplane boozer and had inquired about contacting the bookie he’d spoken of. The boozer grinned knowingly and gave explicit instructions how and where to meet him. And Daniel was embarrassed that he actually did it.

As he looked at his bank statement, he thought that he may have to contact his broker and see what stocks he could sell readily and make some quick money. Alimony checks were due to be sent out soon, and as an accountant himself, he needed no one to tell him that bounced checks were to be avoided at all costs, especially where ex-wives were concerned.

***************

Daniel had been a very self-assured child - even at a young age, he was described as stuck up by his peers. Even his parents, although proud of his smarts and grown-up ways, thought he was a little too much to take sometimes, even while they were on occasion in awe of him. As his brothers and sisters began to appear, he felt like he was always above them. He didn’t have much inclination to spend time in play - there were other things to do and think about.

He breezed through high school with excellent grades, while his classmates still described him as stuck up. He did have friends that tolerated this trait, but sometimes would refer to him, not to his face of course, as a pompous ass. Oh, Daniel? Yes, he’s sure full of himself, they’d say. And then seek his help with some assignment.

He had set his sights on accounting early on and made it his mission to get through college as fast as possible, ending with his degree in hand. Then the goal was to work for the most prestigious firm that he could find and make his mark. And make serious money. He knew that he could do it. College was a breeze for him also, and colleges have plenty of pompous students, so he always found like-minded individuals that were his friends.

He was in his final semester when his father was killed. He was in a frenzy as he had three major tests scheduled for the next day when the call came that his dad was gone. He told his roommate that he didn’t know what to do - what about the exams? he said. The roommate looked at him in amazement and told him to get his ass home. Daniel was not without sorrow at his dad’s passing, but what about those important tests? The roommate had to promise that he would personally go to each professor and explain, and helped Daniel pack a few things and sent him on his way.

The funeral of his father was a sad thing - his brothers and sisters sobbed all of the time while his mother sat in silence. Her best friend, Lois Parker, stayed with her the entire time. Daniel himself cried only in the solitude of his room, while part of the nights before the funeral were spent in wondering about the missed exams. He and his mom didn’t have too much opportunity for private conversations, but she acknowledged that he should get back to school as soon as possible. She could manage.

So Daniel went back to school and took the make-up exams, acing each one. He did keep in touch with his mom as much as his schedule allowed and he was satisfied from their infrequent telephone calls that she was doing okay.

When graduation day came for him, his entire family came to see him walk across the stage and it was a fine moment for him.

He did land a job almost immediately as a junior accountant at a major firm far away from the town that he grew up in. He was in his element at last. It didn’t take him long to work his way up the ladder into a minor partnership, then finally, as a major partner, where he was now.

During that climb, he met and married Edie, who turned out to be a gold-digger (his mom hadn’t liked her from the start), divorced her only to marry Veronica, who was almost as bad. His mom didn’t like her either. Looking back, he didn’t know why he felt like he had to get married at all. There was always a willing bed partner when and if he felt the need, but one of his colleagues had told him that he needed a wife so that he could entertain clients of the firm when necessary.

Each of the ex-wives had expected a fancy apartment to live in while they were married, and Daniel obliged them; his place in the firm almost obligated him to have a showplace. Naturally, each of the wives had to redecorate the apartment as soon as possible after their weddings, so that cost him a bundle each time. Of course, he now regretted that rental expenditure every month, as married or not, he still had to maintain the image of a senior partner. Daniel was almost glad that there had been no children; paying spousal support was bad enough, let alone paying child support, too.

***************

Now, Jane buzzed him and when he answered, she told him that his sister, Cynthia, was on the line. He said, Cyn, what’s new? He and Cynthia kept in contact fairly regularly; neither of them were apt to keep in touch with the other three siblings on a consistent basis.

Hello, Daniel, I just was checking in with you, seeing how you were. Nothing big for me today, so I’m actually relaxing! She laughed, knowing that he wouldn’t believe that she had the time to take it easy.

You know that I don’t believe that for one minute, Daniel replied, leaning back in his chair. So, what is going on? He was still thinking about his bank statement.

I just wondered if you’d spoken to Mom lately, Cynthia said. Not for a few weeks, Daniel replied. Why, is there something wrong?

No, I hadn’t talked to her either for a while; I tried to call once and never could get in contact with her. You know she goes out doing something all of the time.

Well, at least she’s busy and not just sitting at home, Daniel said. He hated to admit that often days and days (and sometimes weeks) went past without a thought about his mother. I’m sure she’s just fine.

I suppose so, Cynthia said. Well, I just wanted to see what you were doing; I’ve got a meeting in a few minutes so I have to go.

I knew you weren’t relaxing, Daniel replied. I will talk to you later. He hung up, but no sooner than he’d set the phone down, Jane buzzed with another call. Sorry, Mr. Porter, but the first Mrs. Porter is on the line. Daniel silently groaned. He hated talking to Edie; she was quite adept at making demands.

Hello, Edie, he said tiredly, leaning back in his chair again and closing his eyes.

With no greeting, Edie said, Daniel, I wanted to find out when you were going to send my check. I’ve got some things that I want to do and I’d like to get that money.

"I still have a few days before I’m required to send it, you know, Daniel replied. He fervently wished she’d get re-married and give him a break. That would make a world of difference in his finances, but he knew that she enjoyed living the high life on his money. I know that, but would you go ahead and send it?" Edie said.

When it’s due, he said, and hung up. He laid everything else aside and called his broker. He needed money, however you looked at it.

***************

Cynthia

After hanging up with Daniel, Cynthia Porter reluctantly left her cubby-hole of an office and went to the weekly meeting of the junior associates. She had worked tirelessly to gain the reputation as a skilled associate, even a junior, and wanted to give everyone the appearance that she was very happy with her position. Quite the contrary. She knew that she was more knowledgeable than some of the clowns that were at the same level as she was. As the only woman in that position, she realized that she would have to work twice as hard as the others did and tried to do just that.

Cynthia worked for a law firm that specialized in aiding the various advertising agencies located in New York. Truth in Advertising was a slogan that was bandied about the office frequently; some of the advertising agencies had to be reminded of that fact by their counselors.

As a junior, her usual job was to check contracts between the agencies and potential new business clients. These businesses were the minor players - none of the huge, national conglomerates that went to the senior partners to tend. (For instance, she handled Mom and Pop Oats while the senior partners took care of Quaker.) It could be a very boring job - she got none of the perks that the higher-ups received: no long lunches with clients, no invitations to elaborate parties held to celebrate accomplishments.

In the meeting, she tried hard to pay attention to the others as they gave their reports on contract negotiations. She wanted to tell several of them that they were wrong, that they were missing key points. Of course, she had to look like she agreed with them all; that everything they said made perfect sense. She wouldn’t dare to disagree on how a contract was worded. Ha, she thought, I hope their arguments hold water when they have to present them to the client. The agencies knew what they wanted; it was up to the attorney to make it happen.

When it was her turn, she gave the gist of the contract she