Wednesday, September 4, 2013

Cathy's story. Chapter 3

It is a beautiful, if not somewhat cool morning here in Winnipeg this morning.  Our overnight temps plummeted down into the 40's overnight.  No wind this morning, just a cool calm morning.

How lucky for me that I just happened to have my camera with me this morning as I spotted one of my most favorite things on my way to work this morning.

I didn't feel nearly so bad about having to get up early after seeing this... and no I was not driving... so I could monkey around the sap on the windshield to get this nice shot.

On a different note - 

I had forgotten what a formatting nightmare Blogger can be.  It does not convert a word document well at all, that is why you may notice that each chapter looks a bit different.  The original document looks as it should - please forgive the way it is looking here.

But I will continue on  - formatting woes and all.

The story continues...

Chapter Three


I wish I could show you pictures of my early life with Wendy.  Back then most families only had one camera, and most often it was a box camera that only took black and white still pictures. 

Wendy’s family did have a movie camera, and it was used at special times such as Christmas, weddings and family reunions, but I was never captured on the movie camera, and even if I had been, no one could remember where those films ended up –so they are forever lost.

Still nothing can remove the happy memories of my time spent with Wendy.

Except maybe, the day I am about to tell you about.

It was a Saturday, everyone was home that day.  Wendy’s Mom was baking cookies, her Dad was mowing the lawn and Wendy and I were playing quietly in her bedroom.  Wendy had just changed my outfit and was fixing my hair when she pulled my string.

“Grrrr, grrrrr…. I….grrrr…. you!”  I couldn’t believe that had come from my record –something was horribly wrong!

“What’s the matter with you, Cathy?”  Wendy whispered and pulled again.

“Do you want to play with me?”  Whew, must have been the humidity in the air, I thought - what a relief, my voice was fine!

She giggled and shook her finger at me.  “Naughty Cathy, don’t do that again!”

But the next day the same thing happened, not once but several times in a row.  I was devastated, scared and sad that I could not tell my girl I loved her.  Wendy was beside herself and immediately blamed her sister for breaking my record.

Wendy’s father could fix just about anything, he promised us both that he could fix me too, so the next day he took me down to his workshop to do just that.

He asked Wendy’s mom to undress me.  Whoa – not happening, I thought to myself – not that I had any control over such things.  Within minutes I was bare plastic for anyone to see… how crushed I was to be so in front of a man!

“Well Cathy, lets see what is going on with you.”  He picked me up and turned me this way and that way over and over as if he was looking for something.

“Looks like I am going to have to crack her chest open, Bonnie,” he said to his wife,  “Might be a good idea to keep Wendy occupied away from here until I have the doll back together.”

He took a pocket knife and sliced along my side seam, but he could not cut through the plastic.  Then he took a hammer and tapped on the end of the knife until the blade went through my plastic. 

“Sorry Cathy,” he mumbled as he repeated poking holes along my seam from my hip to my neck, then he ran the blade between the holes until one side was open.

My arm began to feel loose and as he turned me over and started to work on my other side seam, I began to feel like I was falling apart. 

I was falling apart.  Piece by piece I landed on his work table.  First one arm fell and then the other.  My head was next, and then my legs, until the only part of me he held was my chest.  I heard a crack and then that too fell open.

My life was over!  There I lay in pieces and all I could think of was that I hadn’t told Chatty goodbye.  Poor Chatty – who was going to watch over her if I wasn’t there?  And my poor girl, Wendy -  I’d never see her again.  Despair hit me like a cement floor.  My head rolled to the side and my eyes closed. 

I have no idea how long I lay on that work table, I didn’t count the days or even the weeks, but one day Wendy’s Dad came back into the room with a determined look on his face.

“Cathy, I have to fix you today, either that or forever be looked upon as a monster by my little girl.”  He picked up half of my chest and pulled my string.

“Grrrrrr…. I…. grrrrrr….. grrrrr.”

“You don’t say?” he chuckled and pulled again.
“Grrrrr….. grrrrr….”

I heard a snap and my record player was open.

“Look at this little record,”  I heard him say quietly, “Everything looks good here.”

He worked on my record player for a long time, and finally he stopped trying.  No matter what he did, the results were always the same when he pulled the string.

“Looks like you won’t ever talk again, Cathy,” he said sadly.

He reassembled my chest put my arms and legs back and my head on, and then wrapped a wide piece of tape around my middle.  I would never have a sealed body again, nor would I ever speak another word. 

I was devastated as was Wendy who cried herself asleep that night and several nights after that.  The worst had happened.  I had lost my voice.  I knew it would only be a short time before Wendy would no longer want me as her friend

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