another side

chapter two

Somewhere in the midst of the late afternoon I was woken from a nap by something rough rubbing against my cheek. I hazily opened my eyes to see a fluffy brown kitten, small enough to fit in a teacup, licking my face with its sandpaper tongue. My sister was hovering beside my bed, grinning.

"Who's this?" I asked groggily, sitting up and taking the little creature in my hands.

"His name is Haggis." My sister answered.

"Haggis?" I chuckled, smoothing back the fluff on his little white ears. "He's a timorous wee beastie, ain't he?"

"What?"

"Never mind." I shook my head and smiled. She never did get my jokes – it was the generation gap I suppose. "Who's is he?"

"Yours." She answered.

My mother suddenly appeared in the doorway.

"He's an early birthday present, honey. I hope you like him." She said with a tired smile.

"I love him." I whispered into the kittens fur. I hadn't gotten too excited over him up until then, because I was sure I'd only have to give him back to whichever one of my sister's friends had brought him over, but once I heard he was mine I was practically reduced to tears.

"You don't have to call him Haggis, by the way." My mum said. "That was Maya's idea, but it's up to you."

"I think he suits Haggis." I said, and looked over at my sister who beamed proudly. I had my ideas for cat names, but I knew it would make Maya happy to have a little Haggis running around. Besides, I thought it was pretty unique.

"Don't you think you should call him Edgar or something?" My mum suggested. "It would fit better with the tradition."

Ah yes, the tradition. Literary names were kind of a thing in my family. My grandfather and grandmother were named Mary and William, like Mary Shelley's parents (although I think that one was just a coincidence.) Both being English scholars, when they were presented with twin daughters they decided to name them Charlotte (my mother) and Emily (my aunt), but despite how much they hoped for a third child, little Anne Bronte just never came along. They didn't get a Branwell either, but I don't think that was exactly what they were hoping for anyway.

My mother chose to continue that tradition, having gleaned a love of literature from her parents and having a particular adoration for poetry. Thus, when I was born I was given the name Sylvia. My grandfather protested, claiming that giving me that name could condemn me to a life as wretched as Plath's herself, but my mother was adamant that if she hadn't already died of tuberculosis, then I was going to be just fine. Maya Angelou was the inspiration for my sister's name, so my generation of the family became one of poets. I supposed it was only fitting that the cat followed this tradition also.

"How about Haggis as his middle name then?" I suggested.

"Edgar Haggis Poe." Maya mused. "Alright. I can live with that."

My mother disappeared down the hall and Maya wandered over to my bed, crawling in with me and Edgar. I never got angry when she did that like most sisters would, because I was terrified at how grown up she was starting to look. Her hair was curlier and darker than mine, her skin darker too, her jawline sharper and her height...higher. She looked hardly anything like me actually. She looked much more like her dad, and her dad was not the same as mine.

The only thing our fathers had in common was being really bad at being fathers.

My mother fell pregnant with me when she was eighteen and her and my father moved in together and got married at the instruction of his very Catholic, very reserved parents. They were sort of in love at the time, so while it wasn't perfect even at first, it was okay. When I was born my father reportedly adored me, but he got bored of me quickly like an old toy. My mother told me that she started to feel like we were an inconvenience to his life and that she was only useful for bringing him beers and cleaning the house. He never showed any signs of anger or hatred or anything, just a lack of satisfaction and a lack of love. My mother was completely neglected in his affections, so she drifted away too.