Choices: Or, Nat Will Die Alone
by Sara Corris
Pauline leapt across the room onto her bed.
No way is she falling asleep anytime soon, thought Nat.
“Read me something, mommy!”
“Ok, but just for a little while…”
Nat let her bullshit trail off. She had zero power and they both knew it.
Nat went over to the bookcase and scanned her old books.
WHICH FOR-BETTER-OR-WORSE ICONIC CHILDREN’S BOOKS SHOULD NAT READ TO HER DAUGHTER?
FOR THE LITTLE HOUSE SERIES, JUMP TO PART B.
FOR THE AMERICAN GIRL SERIES, GO TO PART A.
Part A
Pauline looked over at the bookcase. “What are those skinny books at the top?”
Nat followed her gaze. “Ah. The American Girl collection. So they were multiple series, each about a different American Girl in a different time period. There was Samantha; she was my favourite—”
“Why?”
“Because she was pretty,” Nat confessed. “And she had beautiful clothes, beautiful things. She was crazy rich.”
“What was Samantha like?”
“The thing about Samantha was, she had puffed sleeves on all her dresses.” Nat frowned. “That was the defining characteristic of Samantha. She was always described as a Victorian beauty with puffed sleeves. Which was weird, because her books are set after the end of the Victorian era. Also, she wasn’t British, she was American — hence the whole ‘American Girl’ thing — and the Victorian era wasn’t a thing here. You didn’t read these books for the history lessons.”
“Why, then?” Pauline asked sleepily.
Nat struggled to remember. “Oh! OK, so here’s a nice thing Samantha did. She befriends her neighbour’s new scullery maid-slash-chimney-sweep girl, who used to live in a factory. They become good friends, despite the obvious class differences. But then, the neighbours decide to return the girl to the factory—”
“Why?”
“Because they don’t like her coughing, and her sickly pallor, and her general air of sadness and fatigue. But it’s OK, because you know what happens? At the end of the series, Samantha convinces her guardians to purchase the little girl back from the factory, and all her siblings too! Er — adopt. They adopt them. To be kids, not to work anymore.” Nat hoped this was true; she couldn’t remember if they were still expected to work around the house.
“How old was the little coughing girl?”
Nat reflected. “She was the same age as Samantha, I think, so… nine. But this was long ago in the past, and people grew up much more quickly, so nine then was like thirty today—”
THAT’S not the right answer, you idiot!
“—but also, child labour was evil, and no longer exists.” Nat smiled down reassuringly. “Here, at least.”
Pauline wasn’t really listening. “What about the other American Girls?” she mumbled with her eyes closed.
“Well, there’s Kirsten. She was a pretty blonde Swedish girl, who emigrated to America with her family and her best friend Marta. It’s a long, difficult journey by sea, and Marta dies on the ship, which is sad. But in the New World, Kirsten befriends an In— a Native American girl, called Singing Bird? I think? Sure. Yeah, so Singing Bird saves the lives of Kirsten and her family on many, many occasions. At the end of the series, a raccoon burns down Kirsten’s family’s house.” Nat frowned. “But it’s OK, because probably they all just move in with Singing Bird, or else Singing Bird builds them a new home, or something—”
She realised Pauline was asleep.
Five minutes later, Nat tumbled into her own bed.
I’m exhausted.
One hour later, Nat was still staring at the ceiling.
Besides Pauline, there isn’t one person in the whole world who thinks about me.
SHOULD NAT GIVE DATING APPS YET ANOTHER TRY?
IF YOU ANSWERED “NO,” SKIP TO PART C.
IF YOU WANT NAT TO DATE A WOMAN, GO TO PART E.
IF YOU WANT NAT TO DATE A MAN, JUMP TO PART F.
Part B
“Let’s read the light blue ones,” suggested Pauline.
Nat frowned. “The Little House series? Honestly, they’re kinda boring, kiddo.”
“What are they about?”
“This real-life little girl, she wrote about being pioneers in America in the 1800s, and how shh— how hard that life was. She and her family were always moving around to little houses on the prairies, and little houses in the woods, and… other places with little houses—”
“But what happens?”
“Not much.” Nat furrowed her brow. “Indians were always barging in and taking their ceiling-hams, as I recall—”
“Why?”
“For the winter. To survive.”
“But why were hams on the ceiling? Were they like us?”
“No, they weren’t like us, they were the Thanksgiving kind. I meant to say Native Americans, sorry. Old habits. Be better than mommy’s generation, ok? And the hams were dangled from the ceiling with rope… or maybe hooks. I’m not sure. But it was a means of preserving them, so they’d last…”
Is she buying any of this? Can she hear it in my voice, that I haven’t got a clue what I’m talking about? Has she already figured out that I don’t know shit?
Nat heard a yawn from the bed. Her heart leapt with joy.
“Oh! I just remembered the other thing. So the main girl, Laura, has this beautiful perfect older sister named Mary, with long golden hair, OK? And then, halfway through the series, the author casually drops that Mary is now blind. And bald! Out of nowhere, she says, ‘Pa wept as he hacked off Mary’s hair, but he had to, for Mary had woken up blind one day.’ And then she goes back to describing the plains! The connection between the two things, the blindness and the head-shearing, isn’t ever explained. And the blindness, the out-of-nowhere blindness is never explained. Was that a thing back then, little girls just waking up blind? That terrified me—”
NOT APPROPRIATE, you idiot! This is your six-year-old daughter you’re talking to!
Nat turned and looked. Pauline’s eyes had gone saucer-wide.
“This is a real true story, mommy?” Pauline asked in a frightened whisper.
Nat went to sit on the bed beside her, but Lord Bromley leapt to the spot and hissed.
I am a one-eyed necromancer cat, and even I am a more fit parent to this child than you, you crazy bitch.
Nat stood awkwardly. “It’s from a very long time ago, Paulie. Little girls don’t wake up blind anymore. And they won’t ever again, because now we have science, and medicine, and ham to see us through the winters—”
“I don’t like this story. Let’s read something else.”
Five minutes later, Nat tumbled into her own bed.
I’m exhausted.
One hour later, Nat was still staring at the ceiling.
Besides Pauline, there isn’t one person in the whole world who thinks about me.
SHOULD NAT GIVE DATING APPS YET ANOTHER TRY?
IF YOU ANSWERED “NO,” SKIP TO PART C.
IF YOU WANT NAT TO DATE A WOMAN, GO TO PART E.
IF YOU WANT NAT TO DATE A MAN, JUMP TO PART F.
Part C
Time passes.
Nat dies alone.
Cats feast on her remains.
THE END
Part D
“Don’t mind him, that’s just Lord Bromley. He’s always pissed off.”
Nat turned to look at the cat as she spoke.
“He’s had a hard life, you see. Much harder than most. British by birth. He belongs to a great line of seafaring cats. When he came of age he enlisted in the Royal Navy, always going where the fighting was thickest. One battle, an awful battle, they would have lost everything if it wasn’t for Lord Bromley. But he stayed on deck throughout, ratting tirelessly, inspiring the men. That was where he lost his eye. Even then, he kept on fighting. And yet. When it was all over and he’d steered the ship safely home to Britain, Lord Bromley received none of the credit that was due him. No promotion up the ranks, no knighthood, no mention in the history books. All because he was a cat.”
“The British are such dickheads,” muttered Stan.
“He was permanently embittered by it. He’d given an eye for his country; he would have given his life for his country! Words cannot express what he felt. He began to lead a dissolute life. He left Britain for good, sailing around the world on a shitty fishing vessel, hanging around the seediest ports with the lowest company. He drank and slept the days away. At night, he brawled. He grew careless with his appearance, allowing his once-beautiful long fur to become the disheveled, matted mess you see today.”
“Fuck, this is sad,” Stan whispered.
“Nah. It’s all good. Now he lives with us, don’t you, Broms?”
Lord Bromley narrowed his eye at Nat, and jumped down to the floor.
“Pauline adores him, at any rate. And I think he loves her, in his own way. It’s so hard to tell with the British.”
TO FIND OUT WHAT LORD BROMLEY DID NEXT, SKIP TO PART G.
TO LEARN WHAT HAPPENED WITH STAN, GO TO PART I.
Part E
Nat was on her first date with Lisa.
“I’m going to try something different here, and tell you up front: I am into women, I’m just garbage in the sack. You can ask anyone of any gender, it’s got nothing to do with any particular genitals. I’m an all-around lousy lay. You should see me with a penis.”
Lisa smiled wanly.
“Plus, I’m super socially awkward, so I suck at first dates. And subsequent dates, to the extent that’s a thing. So if this winds up being a terrible first date, please know that it doesn’t mean I was lying about being attracted to women. I mean, why would I do that?”
I’m talking very fast aren’t I, and too much, I’m talking too much… Am I talking too much?
Nat came up for air, noting that her wine glass was empty. Again.
“I’m sorry. But you wouldn’t believe how many times my sexuality has been questioned on a first date. I may be bad at making conversation and terrible in bed. But kicking off a date by stating, ‘I used to tell people I was bi back in college, when I was full of denial and self-loathing; blah blah, bi was just another closet,’ then glaring at me pointedly… maybe didn’t help things any?” Nat asked, more of the ghosts of dates past than of her current date, Lisa.
AFTERWARDS, NAT NEVER HEARS FROM LISA AGAIN. SHOULD NAT KEEP TRYING?
IF YOU ANSWERED “NO,” GO BACK TO PART C.
IF YOU WANT NAT TO STICK WITH WOMEN, JUMP TO PART H.
IF YOU WANT NAT TO MIX THINGS UP AND DATE A MAN, READ PART F.
Part F
Nat felt awkward in the silence afterwards. She lay on her back, looking at the ceiling. Next to her, Stan did the same.
I’m going to count to three and if he still hasn’t said anything, I’ve got to say something. Anything.
One. Two. Three.
“Do you have siblings?” Seriously, brain?!
“No. Well, not anymore.” Stan sighed.
Nat recoiled. “Oh God, I’m sorry—”
“It’s OK, really. I’m glad you brought it up. I want to talk about it.” Stan continued staring at the ceiling as he spoke.
“His name was Timmy. He was younger than me by two years. We were inseparable as kids. We both loved ThunderCats. We’d always be playing that, arguing over which one of us got to be Lion-O. One day, we were playing on the roof of our apartment building. Timmy raised his plastic Sword of Omens high into the air, yelled ‘THUNDERCATS HOOOOOO!’ and jumped.”
Nat hesitated. I’m 99.9% sure he’s joking, but…
Stan swallowed. “Those were his last words. We had them engraved on his tombstone.”
Relief. Nat rolled onto her side, facing him. “Wow. That must have been very hard on you. On all your family.”
Stan turned his head towards her and smiled. “It really was. He was an idiot, but he was my brother, you know? It feels good to talk about him, though. To remember all those happy times. Keeps him alive, somehow.”
“How old was he, when he passed?”
“Fifteen. Kids at that age, they don’t understand what a jump from 34 stories up can do to a person—”
“Of course not. Not at that age.” Nat climbed on top of him. “Were you able to recover the Sword of Omens?”
“Remarkably, the Sword of Omens escaped intact. Unlike poor Timmy. The Sword of Omens was the only thing we could bury, actually.” Stan sat up and drew her legs around him.
Nat raked her fingernails through his hair. Her hands paused at the back of his head and tugged gently. “I don’t want to talk about your fake dead brother anymore,” she whispered.
A one-eyed Persian cat with matted fur leapt onto the nightstand and hissed at Stan.
“Oh, hello! And who is this distinguished-looking gentleman?”
IF YOU WANT TO HEAR MORE ABOUT NAT’S CAT, GO BACK TO PART D.
IF YOU’D RATHER KNOW HOW THINGS GO WITH STAN, SKIP TO PART I.
Part G
Lord Bromley left them, but didn’t retire to Pauline’s room. Instead, he padded into the living room and climbed up onto the fish tank.
He dipped a paw in the water and scooped out a fish. Taking it in his mouth, he made his way back to the carpet and deposited the fish with great delicacy.
Lord Bromley sat and gazed upon the dying fish.
I stare Death in the face, unafraid, for I have devoted my life to studying its Mysteries.
The fish ceased flopping, but its mouth opened and closed silently for several minutes more. Finally, even the mouth stopped.
Lord Bromley stole away, satisfied.
THE END
Part H
Nat had been seeing Nadine for nearly three weeks.
She traced her fingertips down Nadine’s back and paused.
“Is this… the ThunderCats logo?”
“Yes, it is. That is a ThunderCats logo tramp stamp. I’m not ashamed.”
“Of having a tramp stamp, or of having a ThunderCats tramp stamp?” Nat smiled. She hoped this conveyed to Nadine that she was teasing.
“Neither. We need to reclaim the term ‘tramp stamp.’ Wear them with pride. What kind of person judges people with lower back tattoos, for fuck’s sake? Who the hell wants to associate with people like that, anyway?” Nadine rolled onto her side.
Nat mirrored her position. “I don’t need convincing. Tattoos are hot A.F. And a ThunderCats tattoo? Daaammmnnn.”
“Originally, I wanted full-on Cheetara facial tattoos, but you know what society’s like.”
“Ugh, so unfair. Cheetara was crazy hot.”
“SUPER hot. She was the one who made me realise I might have a thing for girls.”
“My awakening was brought on by Elvira, Mistress of the Dark. Stores always had life-size cardboard cut-outs of her around Halloween. They made me feel things.”
“Elvira, fuuuuck… those tits, the legs—”
“She was the complete package, all right.”
“And who was your male Elvira?”
Nat’s face flushed; she looked down. “It’s embarrassing. And weird. Don’t judge.”
“I’m probably going to judge.”
Nat took a deep breath. “Alex Trebek.”
Nadine stared. “Wow. That is so much worse than I’d imagined.”
“I know, I know, but what can I say? I was a weird little kid. I was aware of the age difference, believe me, but…”
“Did you think he was super smart? Because he knew all the Jeopardy answers? You do know he was reading them off cards?”
“It wasn’t that. Well, maybe a little. But mostly, it was the ‘stache. A man who can rock a solo ‘stache, the very rare man who can do that? That is just… so hot.” Nat shivered and ran a hand down her body. Nadine wasn’t sure whether she was kidding.
WILL NADINE BE ABLE TO OVERLOOK THIS DISTURBING REVELATION AND CONTINUE SEEING NAT?
IF YOU ANSWERED “NO,” DOUBLE BACK TO PART C.
IF YOU ANSWERED “YES,” MOVE ALONG TO PART J.
Part I
Stan ghosted Nat after that night.
(Confused? Thought that things seemed to be going well with Stan? Nat too!)
SHOULD NAT JUST GIVE UP ON FINDING LOVE ALREADY?
IF YOU ANSWERED “YES,” GO TO PART C.
IF YOU THOUGHT “HANG ON A SEC — SURELY THERE ARE OTHER WAYS OF MEETING PEOPLE BESIDES DATING APPS?” LOL AND GO TO PART M.
Part J
Nat and Nadine were on their first mini-break together in the countryside. They had yet to leave their hotel bed.
“I love the beach, I like Margaret Brundage covers, and I hate the sound of mayonnaise,” said Nadine.
“I love looking at hot people naked, I like tall guys, and I hate fireworks,” said Nat.
Nadine’s turn: “I love hot summer days, I like cheap crappy summer beer, and I hate the smell of mayonnaise.”
Back to Nat: “I love objectifying people, I like handjob porn with uncircumcised dicks, and I hate outer space.”
“I love rocking a bikini, I like the smell of tanning oil, and I hate the oily slimy feel of mayonnaise.”
“I love a great pair of nipples, I like foot-job porn with uncircumcised dicks, and I hate sunsets.”
Nadine laughed. “Come on, now you’re just saying random shit—”
“I’m not, I hate sunsets! Why does everyone like sunsets? One, they happen every day; get over it. Two, they make me think of death… Stop laughing at me, I’m serious! Why does everyone think I’m joking when I’m being serious?” Nat sighed.
“So you hate everything in the sky? Fireworks, space—”
“You know what? Yes! All that sky stuff? That was for earlier times, before people had invented fun things to do. But now that we have? Now that we’ve got Tiktok, and foot-job porn, and all that, why are we still standing around staring at the sky? Sky stuff is boring. Stars. Big deal.”
WILL NADINE FIND NAT’S STANCE ON SKY STUFF CHARMING, OR IS IT A DEAL-BREAKER?
FOR THE FORMER, READ PART K.
FOR THE LATTER, READ PART C.
Part K
Nat and Nadine had made it to the three-month milestone.
Nat was beginning to think she’d found someone as weird as she was.
“The Cask of Amontillado. Dude goes to a party because some guy who insulted him this one time will be there. Dude brings the guy down to the wine cellar, knocks him out cold, and shackles him to the cellar wall. Shackled guy comes to, and the dude is walling him up alive, brick by brick.”
“Baller move.”
“Definitely.” Nat leaned back on her hands and stuck her tongue out ever so slightly as she concentrated. “You made this look so easy.”
“You’ll get the hang of it. You’ve got the foot and ankle mobility; it’s a coordination problem for you. Let me work in again for a bit.” They switched positions.
Nadine propped herself up on her elbows and relaxed her head back.
She doesn’t even need to look at what she’s doing, Nat thought wonderingly.
“SWF. She blows her roommate’s boyfriend against his will, then stabs him through the eye with the heel of her stiletto, killing him.”
“Baller move.”
“Totally.” Nadine sat up, slowed the motions down, and used her toes more.
“Misery. The movie. Takes out both his ankles with a sledgehammer.”
“Baller move.”
Nat was close when suddenly she heard her daughter crying.
“Lemme go check on Pauline,” she told Nadine. “She’s been having nightmares lately. I’ll be right back.”
Nadine smiled thinly and said nothing.
WILL PAULINE’S EXISTENCE INEVITABLY RUIN THINGS BETWEEN HER MOM AND NADINE?
IF YOU ANSWERED “YES,” JUMP BACK TO PART C.
IF YOU ANSWERED “NO,” SKIP TO PART L.
Part L
Nadine was over at Nat’s, as she was most nights now, having dinner with Nat and Pauline.
“Melrose Place. Dr. Kimberly Shaw blows up Melrose Place.”
“Baller move.” Nadine topped up her wine glass. “Melrose Place. Dr. Kimberly Shaw has Dr. Peter Burns involuntarily committed to her asylum, then tries to lobotomise Dr. Peter Burns.”
“Baller move.” Nat chewed thoughtfully. “Okay. Melrose Place. Dr. Kimberly Shaw—”
“This is just a list of crimes; very serious, violent crimes,” Pauline murmured with a frown.
Much later, after both Pauline and Nat had fallen asleep, Nadine wandered to the kitchen for a glass of water.
Lord Bromley appeared, en route to his litter-box. He beheld Nadine and froze.
I believe we read necromancy together back in England, yes?
Nadine bowed her head. It is good of you to remember, after so many years. It was always a pleasure to watch you at your craft.
Lord Bromley bowed his own head in gracious acknowledgement.
Many thanks for your kind words. My gift paled in comparison to your own, as I recall. He rearranged his tail. You look well. The years have not been quite so good to me, as you can see.
Does she know about you?
No. You?
No.
They exchanged a smile.
THE END
Part M
“OK, so here’s what we’re gonna do,” giggled Nat’s first speed-date of the evening. “On the count of three, blurt out the song you can listen to endlessly on repeat. OK? No thinking about it! Here we go. One, two, three—”
“Call Me Maybe,” she said, just as Nat was saying, “New Dawn Fades.”
They spent the remaining 97 seconds staring at each other in silence.
This was the most successful of the speed-dates.
WHAT SHOULD NAT DO?
IF YOU ANSWERED “ABANDON ALL HOPE,” READ PART C.
IF YOU THINK NAT OWES IT TO HERSELF TO GIVE DATING APPS ANOTHER GO, SELECT PART H.
No way is she falling asleep anytime soon, thought Nat.
“Read me something, mommy!”
“Ok, but just for a little while…”
Nat let her bullshit trail off. She had zero power and they both knew it.
Nat went over to the bookcase and scanned her old books.
WHICH FOR-BETTER-OR-WORSE ICONIC CHILDREN’S BOOKS SHOULD NAT READ TO HER DAUGHTER?
FOR THE LITTLE HOUSE SERIES, JUMP TO PART B.
FOR THE AMERICAN GIRL SERIES, GO TO PART A.
Part A
Pauline looked over at the bookcase. “What are those skinny books at the top?”
Nat followed her gaze. “Ah. The American Girl collection. So they were multiple series, each about a different American Girl in a different time period. There was Samantha; she was my favourite—”
“Why?”
“Because she was pretty,” Nat confessed. “And she had beautiful clothes, beautiful things. She was crazy rich.”
“What was Samantha like?”
“The thing about Samantha was, she had puffed sleeves on all her dresses.” Nat frowned. “That was the defining characteristic of Samantha. She was always described as a Victorian beauty with puffed sleeves. Which was weird, because her books are set after the end of the Victorian era. Also, she wasn’t British, she was American — hence the whole ‘American Girl’ thing — and the Victorian era wasn’t a thing here. You didn’t read these books for the history lessons.”
“Why, then?” Pauline asked sleepily.
Nat struggled to remember. “Oh! OK, so here’s a nice thing Samantha did. She befriends her neighbour’s new scullery maid-slash-chimney-sweep girl, who used to live in a factory. They become good friends, despite the obvious class differences. But then, the neighbours decide to return the girl to the factory—”
“Why?”
“Because they don’t like her coughing, and her sickly pallor, and her general air of sadness and fatigue. But it’s OK, because you know what happens? At the end of the series, Samantha convinces her guardians to purchase the little girl back from the factory, and all her siblings too! Er — adopt. They adopt them. To be kids, not to work anymore.” Nat hoped this was true; she couldn’t remember if they were still expected to work around the house.
“How old was the little coughing girl?”
Nat reflected. “She was the same age as Samantha, I think, so… nine. But this was long ago in the past, and people grew up much more quickly, so nine then was like thirty today—”
THAT’S not the right answer, you idiot!
“—but also, child labour was evil, and no longer exists.” Nat smiled down reassuringly. “Here, at least.”
Pauline wasn’t really listening. “What about the other American Girls?” she mumbled with her eyes closed.
“Well, there’s Kirsten. She was a pretty blonde Swedish girl, who emigrated to America with her family and her best friend Marta. It’s a long, difficult journey by sea, and Marta dies on the ship, which is sad. But in the New World, Kirsten befriends an In— a Native American girl, called Singing Bird? I think? Sure. Yeah, so Singing Bird saves the lives of Kirsten and her family on many, many occasions. At the end of the series, a raccoon burns down Kirsten’s family’s house.” Nat frowned. “But it’s OK, because probably they all just move in with Singing Bird, or else Singing Bird builds them a new home, or something—”
She realised Pauline was asleep.
Five minutes later, Nat tumbled into her own bed.
I’m exhausted.
One hour later, Nat was still staring at the ceiling.
Besides Pauline, there isn’t one person in the whole world who thinks about me.
SHOULD NAT GIVE DATING APPS YET ANOTHER TRY?
IF YOU ANSWERED “NO,” SKIP TO PART C.
IF YOU WANT NAT TO DATE A WOMAN, GO TO PART E.
IF YOU WANT NAT TO DATE A MAN, JUMP TO PART F.
Part B
“Let’s read the light blue ones,” suggested Pauline.
Nat frowned. “The Little House series? Honestly, they’re kinda boring, kiddo.”
“What are they about?”
“This real-life little girl, she wrote about being pioneers in America in the 1800s, and how shh— how hard that life was. She and her family were always moving around to little houses on the prairies, and little houses in the woods, and… other places with little houses—”
“But what happens?”
“Not much.” Nat furrowed her brow. “Indians were always barging in and taking their ceiling-hams, as I recall—”
“Why?”
“For the winter. To survive.”
“But why were hams on the ceiling? Were they like us?”
“No, they weren’t like us, they were the Thanksgiving kind. I meant to say Native Americans, sorry. Old habits. Be better than mommy’s generation, ok? And the hams were dangled from the ceiling with rope… or maybe hooks. I’m not sure. But it was a means of preserving them, so they’d last…”
Is she buying any of this? Can she hear it in my voice, that I haven’t got a clue what I’m talking about? Has she already figured out that I don’t know shit?
Nat heard a yawn from the bed. Her heart leapt with joy.
“Oh! I just remembered the other thing. So the main girl, Laura, has this beautiful perfect older sister named Mary, with long golden hair, OK? And then, halfway through the series, the author casually drops that Mary is now blind. And bald! Out of nowhere, she says, ‘Pa wept as he hacked off Mary’s hair, but he had to, for Mary had woken up blind one day.’ And then she goes back to describing the plains! The connection between the two things, the blindness and the head-shearing, isn’t ever explained. And the blindness, the out-of-nowhere blindness is never explained. Was that a thing back then, little girls just waking up blind? That terrified me—”
NOT APPROPRIATE, you idiot! This is your six-year-old daughter you’re talking to!
Nat turned and looked. Pauline’s eyes had gone saucer-wide.
“This is a real true story, mommy?” Pauline asked in a frightened whisper.
Nat went to sit on the bed beside her, but Lord Bromley leapt to the spot and hissed.
I am a one-eyed necromancer cat, and even I am a more fit parent to this child than you, you crazy bitch.
Nat stood awkwardly. “It’s from a very long time ago, Paulie. Little girls don’t wake up blind anymore. And they won’t ever again, because now we have science, and medicine, and ham to see us through the winters—”
“I don’t like this story. Let’s read something else.”
Five minutes later, Nat tumbled into her own bed.
I’m exhausted.
One hour later, Nat was still staring at the ceiling.
Besides Pauline, there isn’t one person in the whole world who thinks about me.
SHOULD NAT GIVE DATING APPS YET ANOTHER TRY?
IF YOU ANSWERED “NO,” SKIP TO PART C.
IF YOU WANT NAT TO DATE A WOMAN, GO TO PART E.
IF YOU WANT NAT TO DATE A MAN, JUMP TO PART F.
Part C
Time passes.
Nat dies alone.
Cats feast on her remains.
THE END
Part D
“Don’t mind him, that’s just Lord Bromley. He’s always pissed off.”
Nat turned to look at the cat as she spoke.
“He’s had a hard life, you see. Much harder than most. British by birth. He belongs to a great line of seafaring cats. When he came of age he enlisted in the Royal Navy, always going where the fighting was thickest. One battle, an awful battle, they would have lost everything if it wasn’t for Lord Bromley. But he stayed on deck throughout, ratting tirelessly, inspiring the men. That was where he lost his eye. Even then, he kept on fighting. And yet. When it was all over and he’d steered the ship safely home to Britain, Lord Bromley received none of the credit that was due him. No promotion up the ranks, no knighthood, no mention in the history books. All because he was a cat.”
“The British are such dickheads,” muttered Stan.
“He was permanently embittered by it. He’d given an eye for his country; he would have given his life for his country! Words cannot express what he felt. He began to lead a dissolute life. He left Britain for good, sailing around the world on a shitty fishing vessel, hanging around the seediest ports with the lowest company. He drank and slept the days away. At night, he brawled. He grew careless with his appearance, allowing his once-beautiful long fur to become the disheveled, matted mess you see today.”
“Fuck, this is sad,” Stan whispered.
“Nah. It’s all good. Now he lives with us, don’t you, Broms?”
Lord Bromley narrowed his eye at Nat, and jumped down to the floor.
“Pauline adores him, at any rate. And I think he loves her, in his own way. It’s so hard to tell with the British.”
TO FIND OUT WHAT LORD BROMLEY DID NEXT, SKIP TO PART G.
TO LEARN WHAT HAPPENED WITH STAN, GO TO PART I.
Part E
Nat was on her first date with Lisa.
“I’m going to try something different here, and tell you up front: I am into women, I’m just garbage in the sack. You can ask anyone of any gender, it’s got nothing to do with any particular genitals. I’m an all-around lousy lay. You should see me with a penis.”
Lisa smiled wanly.
“Plus, I’m super socially awkward, so I suck at first dates. And subsequent dates, to the extent that’s a thing. So if this winds up being a terrible first date, please know that it doesn’t mean I was lying about being attracted to women. I mean, why would I do that?”
I’m talking very fast aren’t I, and too much, I’m talking too much… Am I talking too much?
Nat came up for air, noting that her wine glass was empty. Again.
“I’m sorry. But you wouldn’t believe how many times my sexuality has been questioned on a first date. I may be bad at making conversation and terrible in bed. But kicking off a date by stating, ‘I used to tell people I was bi back in college, when I was full of denial and self-loathing; blah blah, bi was just another closet,’ then glaring at me pointedly… maybe didn’t help things any?” Nat asked, more of the ghosts of dates past than of her current date, Lisa.
AFTERWARDS, NAT NEVER HEARS FROM LISA AGAIN. SHOULD NAT KEEP TRYING?
IF YOU ANSWERED “NO,” GO BACK TO PART C.
IF YOU WANT NAT TO STICK WITH WOMEN, JUMP TO PART H.
IF YOU WANT NAT TO MIX THINGS UP AND DATE A MAN, READ PART F.
Part F
Nat felt awkward in the silence afterwards. She lay on her back, looking at the ceiling. Next to her, Stan did the same.
I’m going to count to three and if he still hasn’t said anything, I’ve got to say something. Anything.
One. Two. Three.
“Do you have siblings?” Seriously, brain?!
“No. Well, not anymore.” Stan sighed.
Nat recoiled. “Oh God, I’m sorry—”
“It’s OK, really. I’m glad you brought it up. I want to talk about it.” Stan continued staring at the ceiling as he spoke.
“His name was Timmy. He was younger than me by two years. We were inseparable as kids. We both loved ThunderCats. We’d always be playing that, arguing over which one of us got to be Lion-O. One day, we were playing on the roof of our apartment building. Timmy raised his plastic Sword of Omens high into the air, yelled ‘THUNDERCATS HOOOOOO!’ and jumped.”
Nat hesitated. I’m 99.9% sure he’s joking, but…
Stan swallowed. “Those were his last words. We had them engraved on his tombstone.”
Relief. Nat rolled onto her side, facing him. “Wow. That must have been very hard on you. On all your family.”
Stan turned his head towards her and smiled. “It really was. He was an idiot, but he was my brother, you know? It feels good to talk about him, though. To remember all those happy times. Keeps him alive, somehow.”
“How old was he, when he passed?”
“Fifteen. Kids at that age, they don’t understand what a jump from 34 stories up can do to a person—”
“Of course not. Not at that age.” Nat climbed on top of him. “Were you able to recover the Sword of Omens?”
“Remarkably, the Sword of Omens escaped intact. Unlike poor Timmy. The Sword of Omens was the only thing we could bury, actually.” Stan sat up and drew her legs around him.
Nat raked her fingernails through his hair. Her hands paused at the back of his head and tugged gently. “I don’t want to talk about your fake dead brother anymore,” she whispered.
A one-eyed Persian cat with matted fur leapt onto the nightstand and hissed at Stan.
“Oh, hello! And who is this distinguished-looking gentleman?”
IF YOU WANT TO HEAR MORE ABOUT NAT’S CAT, GO BACK TO PART D.
IF YOU’D RATHER KNOW HOW THINGS GO WITH STAN, SKIP TO PART I.
Part G
Lord Bromley left them, but didn’t retire to Pauline’s room. Instead, he padded into the living room and climbed up onto the fish tank.
He dipped a paw in the water and scooped out a fish. Taking it in his mouth, he made his way back to the carpet and deposited the fish with great delicacy.
Lord Bromley sat and gazed upon the dying fish.
I stare Death in the face, unafraid, for I have devoted my life to studying its Mysteries.
The fish ceased flopping, but its mouth opened and closed silently for several minutes more. Finally, even the mouth stopped.
Lord Bromley stole away, satisfied.
THE END
Part H
Nat had been seeing Nadine for nearly three weeks.
She traced her fingertips down Nadine’s back and paused.
“Is this… the ThunderCats logo?”
“Yes, it is. That is a ThunderCats logo tramp stamp. I’m not ashamed.”
“Of having a tramp stamp, or of having a ThunderCats tramp stamp?” Nat smiled. She hoped this conveyed to Nadine that she was teasing.
“Neither. We need to reclaim the term ‘tramp stamp.’ Wear them with pride. What kind of person judges people with lower back tattoos, for fuck’s sake? Who the hell wants to associate with people like that, anyway?” Nadine rolled onto her side.
Nat mirrored her position. “I don’t need convincing. Tattoos are hot A.F. And a ThunderCats tattoo? Daaammmnnn.”
“Originally, I wanted full-on Cheetara facial tattoos, but you know what society’s like.”
“Ugh, so unfair. Cheetara was crazy hot.”
“SUPER hot. She was the one who made me realise I might have a thing for girls.”
“My awakening was brought on by Elvira, Mistress of the Dark. Stores always had life-size cardboard cut-outs of her around Halloween. They made me feel things.”
“Elvira, fuuuuck… those tits, the legs—”
“She was the complete package, all right.”
“And who was your male Elvira?”
Nat’s face flushed; she looked down. “It’s embarrassing. And weird. Don’t judge.”
“I’m probably going to judge.”
Nat took a deep breath. “Alex Trebek.”
Nadine stared. “Wow. That is so much worse than I’d imagined.”
“I know, I know, but what can I say? I was a weird little kid. I was aware of the age difference, believe me, but…”
“Did you think he was super smart? Because he knew all the Jeopardy answers? You do know he was reading them off cards?”
“It wasn’t that. Well, maybe a little. But mostly, it was the ‘stache. A man who can rock a solo ‘stache, the very rare man who can do that? That is just… so hot.” Nat shivered and ran a hand down her body. Nadine wasn’t sure whether she was kidding.
WILL NADINE BE ABLE TO OVERLOOK THIS DISTURBING REVELATION AND CONTINUE SEEING NAT?
IF YOU ANSWERED “NO,” DOUBLE BACK TO PART C.
IF YOU ANSWERED “YES,” MOVE ALONG TO PART J.
Part I
Stan ghosted Nat after that night.
(Confused? Thought that things seemed to be going well with Stan? Nat too!)
SHOULD NAT JUST GIVE UP ON FINDING LOVE ALREADY?
IF YOU ANSWERED “YES,” GO TO PART C.
IF YOU THOUGHT “HANG ON A SEC — SURELY THERE ARE OTHER WAYS OF MEETING PEOPLE BESIDES DATING APPS?” LOL AND GO TO PART M.
Part J
Nat and Nadine were on their first mini-break together in the countryside. They had yet to leave their hotel bed.
“I love the beach, I like Margaret Brundage covers, and I hate the sound of mayonnaise,” said Nadine.
“I love looking at hot people naked, I like tall guys, and I hate fireworks,” said Nat.
Nadine’s turn: “I love hot summer days, I like cheap crappy summer beer, and I hate the smell of mayonnaise.”
Back to Nat: “I love objectifying people, I like handjob porn with uncircumcised dicks, and I hate outer space.”
“I love rocking a bikini, I like the smell of tanning oil, and I hate the oily slimy feel of mayonnaise.”
“I love a great pair of nipples, I like foot-job porn with uncircumcised dicks, and I hate sunsets.”
Nadine laughed. “Come on, now you’re just saying random shit—”
“I’m not, I hate sunsets! Why does everyone like sunsets? One, they happen every day; get over it. Two, they make me think of death… Stop laughing at me, I’m serious! Why does everyone think I’m joking when I’m being serious?” Nat sighed.
“So you hate everything in the sky? Fireworks, space—”
“You know what? Yes! All that sky stuff? That was for earlier times, before people had invented fun things to do. But now that we have? Now that we’ve got Tiktok, and foot-job porn, and all that, why are we still standing around staring at the sky? Sky stuff is boring. Stars. Big deal.”
WILL NADINE FIND NAT’S STANCE ON SKY STUFF CHARMING, OR IS IT A DEAL-BREAKER?
FOR THE FORMER, READ PART K.
FOR THE LATTER, READ PART C.
Part K
Nat and Nadine had made it to the three-month milestone.
Nat was beginning to think she’d found someone as weird as she was.
“The Cask of Amontillado. Dude goes to a party because some guy who insulted him this one time will be there. Dude brings the guy down to the wine cellar, knocks him out cold, and shackles him to the cellar wall. Shackled guy comes to, and the dude is walling him up alive, brick by brick.”
“Baller move.”
“Definitely.” Nat leaned back on her hands and stuck her tongue out ever so slightly as she concentrated. “You made this look so easy.”
“You’ll get the hang of it. You’ve got the foot and ankle mobility; it’s a coordination problem for you. Let me work in again for a bit.” They switched positions.
Nadine propped herself up on her elbows and relaxed her head back.
She doesn’t even need to look at what she’s doing, Nat thought wonderingly.
“SWF. She blows her roommate’s boyfriend against his will, then stabs him through the eye with the heel of her stiletto, killing him.”
“Baller move.”
“Totally.” Nadine sat up, slowed the motions down, and used her toes more.
“Misery. The movie. Takes out both his ankles with a sledgehammer.”
“Baller move.”
Nat was close when suddenly she heard her daughter crying.
“Lemme go check on Pauline,” she told Nadine. “She’s been having nightmares lately. I’ll be right back.”
Nadine smiled thinly and said nothing.
WILL PAULINE’S EXISTENCE INEVITABLY RUIN THINGS BETWEEN HER MOM AND NADINE?
IF YOU ANSWERED “YES,” JUMP BACK TO PART C.
IF YOU ANSWERED “NO,” SKIP TO PART L.
Part L
Nadine was over at Nat’s, as she was most nights now, having dinner with Nat and Pauline.
“Melrose Place. Dr. Kimberly Shaw blows up Melrose Place.”
“Baller move.” Nadine topped up her wine glass. “Melrose Place. Dr. Kimberly Shaw has Dr. Peter Burns involuntarily committed to her asylum, then tries to lobotomise Dr. Peter Burns.”
“Baller move.” Nat chewed thoughtfully. “Okay. Melrose Place. Dr. Kimberly Shaw—”
“This is just a list of crimes; very serious, violent crimes,” Pauline murmured with a frown.
Much later, after both Pauline and Nat had fallen asleep, Nadine wandered to the kitchen for a glass of water.
Lord Bromley appeared, en route to his litter-box. He beheld Nadine and froze.
I believe we read necromancy together back in England, yes?
Nadine bowed her head. It is good of you to remember, after so many years. It was always a pleasure to watch you at your craft.
Lord Bromley bowed his own head in gracious acknowledgement.
Many thanks for your kind words. My gift paled in comparison to your own, as I recall. He rearranged his tail. You look well. The years have not been quite so good to me, as you can see.
Does she know about you?
No. You?
No.
They exchanged a smile.
THE END
Part M
“OK, so here’s what we’re gonna do,” giggled Nat’s first speed-date of the evening. “On the count of three, blurt out the song you can listen to endlessly on repeat. OK? No thinking about it! Here we go. One, two, three—”
“Call Me Maybe,” she said, just as Nat was saying, “New Dawn Fades.”
They spent the remaining 97 seconds staring at each other in silence.
This was the most successful of the speed-dates.
WHAT SHOULD NAT DO?
IF YOU ANSWERED “ABANDON ALL HOPE,” READ PART C.
IF YOU THINK NAT OWES IT TO HERSELF TO GIVE DATING APPS ANOTHER GO, SELECT PART H.