In the Belly of the Beast

8

 "Where's my phone, Ruby?" Geoffrey bellowed from his back room.

"Must have heard me come in," Ruby said to the stranger.

"I haven't had a chance to clean it," she bellowed down the hall.

"Why not?"

"It's grocery day. You know that. I just got home, and I have to put up the things that will spoil."

"Just get it back to me, Ruby. Do it now, you hear me, you lazy. . ."

"He wants his phone," she said to the man. "What will I do? I can't put him off forever."

"Throw it into a pot of boiling water," the man said, handing it to her.

"But won't that ruin it?" she asked.

"Trust me. Boil it for a couple of hours. Then throw the pot away."

"O.K. If you say so."

"I do say so."

She put the pot on to boil. When the water was rolling, she pitched the phone in.

What the hell, she thought, tossing in the brown encrusted box. This will never work. I've ruined it, and I don't have the dough to buy him another. They'll be hell to pay, but I'll live. Geoffrey's just gonna have to get over it, too.

She began singing softly as she stored the groceries.

"You have a very nice voice," the man said.

"What? I totally forgot you were here," she said. "Imagine that. Bet I popped your eardrums. Well, I'll try to shush up from now on."

The man sat at the table alone. For once, Sylvester had not jumped into his lap, choosing instead to curl up in some forgotten corner of the house.

"You don't accept compliments well, do you Ruby?"

"Compliments? Guess I've gotten out of the habit of hearing them, I suppose. Old lady like me don't get them anymore. But I used to get 'em, I can tell you. I surely used to get my share."

"I'll bet you did," the man said. "Tell me about the old days, Ruby."

***

She sat down at the kitchen table beside him.

"Well, I don't know. That was such a long time ago. Ancient history. You wouldn't be interested, I'm sure."

"No, really," he said. "You, me, we have nothing but time. Come on, Ruby, talk. Tell me."

For the next two hours, Ruby talked of days long past.

"I think you're pot is done," the man finally said.

She couldn't believe time had gotten away from her so.

"Land sakes! Will you look at us! Here, I've let the whole afternoon slip by. Haven't done a blessed thing! Anyone checking up on me would think I was on vacation or something."

"If anyone asks," the man said, "tell them you were held hostage."

"That's right, I was," enjoying his little joke.

Their tenuous levity was broken by a demanding voice from the back room.

"Ruby! Turn that damn radio off and get back here!"

"I'm coming. Don't bust your blood vessels," Ruby said as she got up from the table and proceeded down the hall. Her shadow trailed her.

"I know," Ruby whispered to him, "leave the door to his room opened."

She entered the bedroom.

"What is it, Geoffrey?"

"I want my phone."

"Sure," she said. "I'll get if for you. The cupboard's stocked. You want anything special for dinner?"

A look of horror crossed his face, but he composed himself.

"Anything's fine," he said. "Whatever you want to fix."

"I'll bring the phone when I bring the tray."

Ordinarily, he would have demanded the phone immediately, but today he simply dismissed her with a wave of his hand.

"Seems as if the beast has mellowed a bit," the man whispered.

"I wouldn't go that far," said Ruby. "He missed a coupla' meals, remember? Probably too weak to put up a fuss."

"I rather doubt it."

They entered the kitchen.

"What's on the menu tonight?" he asked.

"Oh, I don't know. Not cat food, that's for sure. Sylvester's the only one who'll be getting that tonight."

She was rattling around in the pots and pans beneath the counter. He had not been there to see her dump the cat food into the meatloaf, but somehow, Ruby sensed there was a good chance he knew what she had done.

His eyes. It was there in those strange eyes of his.

Why are the police looking for you? What have you done?

She did not know. Decided she didn't want to know and wondered as she finally found the baking dish she was looking for, if he would come to her again tonight in her dreams.

***

Dinner went off without a hitch. Geoffrey had eaten and was now happily occupied with his game shows and smutty magazines. He had his cell phone, too, but she was unsure if he'd tried it out. She was too exhausted at the moment to care whether or not it still worked.

Geoffrey really was pathetic, she decided as she crawled beneath the covers and sneaked one last look at the man in the chair by her door. Sylvester was perched in his lap, the picture of glassy-eyed contentment. The man rubbed his furry head with a forefinger, back and forth, back and forth, in hypnotically smooth slow motions.

She had never seen anything like it. That cat had taken to this stranger like a fly on stink. It was surprising, for Sylvester had never liked strangers.

On rare occasions when she'd had someone in to fix the plumbing or check the heat, the cat would disappear into the back of the house somewhere, refusing to show his face again until the trespasser left.

She had found Sylvester as a kitten, abandoned and half-starved, and had carried him home. Hers had been the hands to nurse him back from the brink of certain death.

And he had bonded to her, had always been her special love. She couldn't help but feel the slightest pang of jealousy as she watched the two. Sylvester had attached himself to the man, becoming an appendage sprouting from him.

It was becoming impossible for the stranger to sit in any chair for two minutes without that cat jumping into his lap.

Maybe Sylvester was tired of her.

She had a lot of mileage on her, after all. The man was a new face, fresh blood, and even though he was running from the law, smelled a whole lot better than Geoffrey ever did.

She felt sleep weigh heavily upon her eyes. Back and forth, back and forth, the stroking continued. She gave in, closing her eyes, letting the stress dissolve and the stardust settle upon her.