I know who my parents are. Is that such a big deal then? You probably have always known who your parents are. You probably knew who mine are before I was told. Every single other cat in the junkyard knew. Everyone but me.
I'm not sure why they decided to tell me yesterday. I suppose it's just because I'm now one year old. What a wonderful birthday present! Also, I think, because of what just happened, I mean, I nearly died. They told me - straight out. What should I have done? I still don't know. What did I do? I gasped in - shock maybe, disbelief? but then I just nodded and said "It's alright." I went and hugged Demeter. My mother. She was crying and telling me over and over again that she was sorry. "No," I told her, "there's nothing to be sorry for. It's alright, it's alright." It's alright. Everything's fine. And - I think - it really is. Or it would be, if we could only let it be.
Everyone was - is - uncomfortable around me. They don't know what to say to me, how I'm "taking it", how I'll react. They wonder if I'll hate Jenny and Skimble for lying to me. I wonder what I'm supposed to do. I still love them as much as ever, as if they were my parents. Everything that was done was done to protect me and Demeter. She was only about my age when she became pregnant. Jenny and Skimble wanted to have kittens but never did. Demeter loved Munkustrap and he loved her, but I think she was afraid that he could never accept me-
Because all the deception and lying to me isn't the worst part, is it?
The worst part is the truth. What I am is worse than finding what I am not. Macavity's child. Spawn of the Hidden Paw. Poor Demeter. I look like her, but my red where she is golden is his. I feel somehow guilty; every time she looks at me, can she ever see anyone but him? Can she ever look at me without the memory being dragged up? They didn't tell me how they reacted - back then, I mean - Demeter's kitten is born and it's his. What do they do? No one could easily accept me into the tribe could they? Maybe some even shunned Demeter for a time. It wasn't her fault. I wasn't her fault. But Macavity's blood runs in my veins and what can I do about it?
I am Jemima. I am not Macavity. I don't believe that I am predestined by my ancestry to follow in his wake. And there's something else. He doesn't know me. He doesn't know who I am. He hates me. He tried to kill me. My - father - and he tried to kill me. His daughter and I attacked him. Surely that is proof at least that I am not him, I cannot be bound by blood to him.
Something they did tell me was the meaning of my name. I guess they'd forgiven me - for being what I am - by my naming. A dove, the bringer of peace. A new start.
And I think they've had to accept me, because on my own merits there's been no reason not to. I'm the "perfect" little kitten who everyone loves. I don't like to say that, but what else is there to say? If you hadn't known what I was, could you ever have guessed? I certainly didn't.
* * * * *
I'm sitting here and thinking; I should go talk to someone, I should tell them for sure that nothing has changed, that I am who and what I have always been; but I think first I'll have to sort it out for myself. I am the youngest Jellicle, I am Jemima - what do I feel and believe?
I'm known by everyone for what I did at the Ball. How and why did I do that? I've heard a lot of interesting conjectures, but no one's ever really listened to my own story. Probably that's because it isn't exciting or amazing like the others. I'm not Old Deuteronomy re born (He's still alive for goodness' sake, but seriously, I've heard that- actually I think it was Tumblebrutus' idea, so don't worry...) I'm not magic, I'm not psychic, I'm not a mystic feline to be revered and worshipped. And I don't think I can live up that if that's what they expect.
It doesn't take any sort of magic to love or forgive. But then - the words I sang did just come to me, somehow, and I couldn't explain how. I won't deny that something amazing happens at the Jellicle Ball, the moonlight and the intense air around us are intoxicating and inspiring, but nothing like that can inspire in us a new love or force us to forgive. It made perfect sense; it was the right thing to do. Grizabella stood there, pushed away by everyone and pleaded for forgiveness, for a kind touch again. I don't even really know what she was supposed to have done wrong, but it doesn't matter. She was sad. What could I do but try to comfort her? She was sorry. How could we refuse to forgive her?
What do you mean when you say that I am "innocent"? I have been called innocent countless times in a sort of affectionate, amazed, awed way. Must we know nothing to be able to love truly? Is wisdom the knowledge that the world is bad and that we must be a part of it?
I am not innocent of a tom's love. It's a good, strong love. No doubt, according to this wisdom, it is too good to last. Nor can I possibly be innocent of at least the knowledge of how love is sometimes counterfeited, and the difference between devotion and desire. Macavity is my father, remember?!
It was Macavity again who taught me of revenge. Deprived of success at the Ball, he wanted to punish us for it. He tried to kill me, and Everlasting Cat only knows what he would have done to Victoria. All in the name of revenge. We certainly retaliated, Bomba and Munkustrap at least would say that he deserved to die for what he'd done to us. But of course they feel confused and bad saying that in front of me.
I believe there is good in everyone. I believe that on principle. But Macavity? He has never shown anything but evil. Still, I cannot believe it possible that he can be completely bad. Somewhere, there is good in him. He would laugh to hear me say this, I know. And can I forgive him? This is hard, isn't it. The hardest thing, even for me, is sometimes to forgive. I would like to. I'd like to be able to. If he came and said he was sorry, and meant it, and asked my forgiveness... I would. But somehow, I think he never will.
Am I so innocent and pure? I don't know. I have been called naive too. Surely not. Is this naivete? I know full well what the world is like, how many bad things we can do to each other. Only too harshly have I learnt that nothing is really perfect, and nothing near perfect is safe. I tell you as plainly as I can: I know this is the way it is. I'm just not going to accept that this is the way it must be and I'm never going to give up trying to change it to the way it should be.