Satisfaction Brought Them Back

Back in a house somewhere in the Missouri watershed, a catgirl and her mother sat in the living room, waiting nervously. Though, the catgirl had distinctly remembered being curled up in a closet nervously in her bedroom, clutching something to defend herself with.

“Whoa,” Lydia said, rubbing her head, “it’s like, the world changed? But I remember how it used to be.”

“What do you mean?” Diane replied.

“Well, I mean, I remember that I was downstairs, nervous about tonight, but now I’m suddenly up here. And on one hand, I have a dad, and Cindy said he was going to be taken care of, but on the other hand, I remember having two moms my whole life,” Lydia explained.

“Now that you mention it I–”

All of a sudden, Cindy reappeared in the room, with three small catgirls, all napping, and one very shaken short cat lady. Immediately, Diane and Lydia’s faces beamed with recognition as they ran to hug Danielle, though both of them at the same time wondered how they knew who this was, and how they still remembered the now-departed Daniel Vanderlaan.

“Now that the family reunion’s happened, I should explain some things,” Cindy began, “I made a very, very rare exception to my normal rules. So you are all now sworn to secrecy. I saw that the way to cause the least suffering and death, the least separation, was to reunite you and the family under a slightly different circumstance.”

“You mean…” Diane asked, “our triplets were his father and brothers?”

Cindy nodded, and smiled, “They were, yes, but in this world, Daniel Vanderlaan hasn’t existed since 2005, or 2010, if you count legal technicalities. And the three men you describe died, as far as the law is concerned, in a car crash in 2008. Since they were loners, most will probably assume that's what happened if they look into it.”

"What about my job?" Dani asked, "I work from home, but surely they'd know..."

"Switched to a new team, remotely, after a promotion by a manager who doesn't exist. Anyone who looks at will think it's a system error and won't ask questions," Cindy replied, "all your degrees and your resume refer to you by your new name, along with identification."

"My children and their school? Our church?" Diane asked.

"That, I can't help you with, I'm afraid," Cindy replied, "I made a promise to someone I wouldn't mess with the whole world. But with the memories I gave you, I hope you'll be able to function better than the ones you would've had otherwise."

“Do they remember what they did?” Dani asked, staring at her three children, who she simultaneously remembered birthing and yet…didn’t remember at all.

“They will remember that they used to be other people, in the way that sometimes people describe remembering past lives,” Cindy explained, “and at an older age, once they are capable of processing it, they will remember more. People won't know they exist for now, and it is up to you whether to reveal more to them when that happens. For now, there is a protective ward on this house and your vehicles, so you will not be hurt or spied on. As far as you are concerned, they are your daughters and have never been anything else.  I have given you the tools to treat them as such.”

“And it’s about their bedtime,” Dani replied, sighing, “hold on while I put them in their beds for just a moment, will you?”

Cindy nodded as Dani carried the triplets up the stairs one by one, placing them in a room that if they had bothered to care, they would’ve remembered as Daniel’s office. Lydia frowned a little. She remembered when they were younger, feelings of being replaced as the subject of her mothers’ attention, and yet, not.

“Okay, why are they catgirls, though?” Lydia asked, “The spell hasn’t been around that long, and isn’t available for people that young.”

“I don't think that people will ask that question, not with all the weirdness going on. If they ask, you can just say it's special intervention."

“How did you do all this?” Diane asked, taking a seat on the couch to prevent herself from falling over in shock.

“Magic, to put it simply. I’m afraid I can’t disclose too many details," Cindy replied.

"And you think you have the right to do all this yourself, by your own power?" Diane hissed.

"Yes," Cindy replied.

"How fucking dare you? God knows I haven't been the best person, I haven't even been a good person, but at the end of the day, my actions ended here, in this household. I would never abuse someone else's God-given right to identity, as they were created. Giving people a spell they can use at will is one thing, what gives you the right to force it on people?"

"When there is a threat of harm," Cindy replied, "I respond. Your husband's family represented a chronic threat. While I could have not done this, considering that they threatened my life and that of your daughter, I find it fair."

"And you respond by changing their minds, by adding memories, by making them children, when they were once adults? Paul Vanderlaan was a wicked man, but you are vile. I demand an answer, Cindy Talbot, what gives you the right?" Diane yelled at her.

"What did you want me to do? Break apart your family? I had promised you I wouldn't kill them, promised Lydia I would protect her by any means necessary, and I made a promise to someone long ago I wouldn't change non-interested parties' memories," Cindy replied.

"And we would rather you have broken a promise than do this," Diane replied, "I don't know how I'll be able to begin to get therapy for this, assuming you want all of us to stay silent about this, assuming the spells you've placed on our minds don't make us think we're crazy."

"I can make some adjustments if.."

"No. GET OUT OF MY HOUSE. You may have helped my daughter, and my wife. For that I will be thankful. But that cannot excuse your actions. Do not set foot in this town again."

"Do not worry, Diane," Cindy replied, rubbing her forehead, "I'm beginning to suspect you won't find that an issue."

"Good," Diane replied, "I know there's probably no hell, especially not for someone like you. But I hope to see you somewhere like it."

"Goodbye," Cindy said, her face resolute as she disappeared.

Dani walked down the stairs after the final triplet was put in bed, sighing as she sat next to Diane, who started rubbing her back. “I’m getting too old to be carrying them, Di,” Dani said as she cracked her neck, “especially since they’re nearly as big as me.”

“It’s nice, isn’t it?” Lydia asked suddenly, sitting down across from them, looking at Dani’s ear twitch, “you were like me, even back then, weren’t you?”

“I was, yes,” Dani replied, sighing as she got up to kneel down next to Lydia, “though, in this world, I seem to remember you being a girl from the day your mother had you in her arms.”

“Yeah, it’s weird, it’s like the whole world is different, except we remember it, though it is getting harder to think about,” Lydia replied.

“Then maybe we should stop thinking so much about it,” Diane said, “there’s a lot of pain tied up in that old world, isn’t there? And you’re not him anymore.”

Dani shook her head. “I would love to, Di, but I need to apologize to you two first. Dan isn’t exactly the same as me, that’s true, but I still have a connection to him, a continuity, and I’m probably the only person who can give that apology regardless.”

“Then say it and let’s move on,” Lydia replied impatiently.

“Attitude, Lydia, remember, like we talk about,” Dani chided, “but yes. I should start by saying, in this world, it was me overcoming the fear I felt about who I was and being vulnerable with the love of my life that led to the beautiful life we live now. You are both the most precious things to me, and I love you both dearly. I am sorry that there’s a world in which I was too blind to see that, and that on some level, we all remember that and share the burden of that.”

As she finished up, and began to cry, her wife and daughter walked up to her to embrace her. No words were exchanged, just the embrace of love and understanding that comes with the presence of justice.

“Hey Dani,” Di said, “I thawed out the fish you caught with Lydia yesterday, but you know I am with guts. Would you mind cutting it out on the porch?”

“Of course dear,” Dani replied, smiling, “you know I love fish!”

With that, Lydia and Dani carried the fish out to the porch together. They laughed at the memory of both of them having to wrangle it together, it being too big for either one of them, how they both nearly fell in the lake, but ultimately triumphed over it. Gutting the fish was an ordeal, but a fun exercise in anatomy. Eventually, they returned with a bag of compost and two large filets.

“That’ll be enough for two dinners, even with all the mouths we have to feed!” Diane exclaimed, “put one half in the freezer again.”

Lydia couldn’t help but notice as they opened the freezer that there were…a lot more fish sticks in there. Perhaps having three sisters who were also catgirls did have its benefits. Probably downsides, as well. They were triplets, who was she kidding, a lot of downsides.

Speaking of the devils, the three gremlins came running down the stairs at the same time: Pyrrha, Steph, and Kay, in that order. It appeared that their mother’s cooking of the fish had intrigued them. Being nine, they knew better than to bother her during cooking, but they stood from a distance, watching.

“Come on, girls,” Dani ordered, “out of the kitchen, stop bothering your mother. Let’s play some games, okay?”

“Okay mommy!” Steph and Kay piped as they ran down with Dani to play on the console she kept downstairs to entertain them.

Pyrrha stayed there for a moment, lingering as she looked at Lydia. Lydia waved nervously at her, before being tackled with a hug.

“I’m sorry, Lydia,” Pyrrha said.

“For what?” Lydia asked, petting her sister’s hair.

“I don’t remember what I did but, the lady made me like this, but I remember you and–”

“Pyrrha, you’ve done nothing wrong to me. Whoever you used to be isn’t you now. Go play with Steph and Kay, alright?” Lydia said as she held her sister by the shoulders.

“Okay, Lydia! Love you!” she replied as she ran downstairs.

“Was that…” Diane whispered as she turned to Lydia.

“I think she was Grandpa Paul,” Lydia confirmed, “but I don’t think that matters now.”

“No,” Diane replied, sighing, “I don’t suppose it does. Do you want to help with setting the table, dear?”

“Of course, mom!” Lydia replied, grinning, “don’t want me to help with the cooking?”

“Fish is a little harder to make than porkchops, honey,” she replied, “maybe next time, you know how your sisters get when they’re, what is it you kids call it, ‘hangry’? And they’re so picky as well.”