Cat Sitter On A Hot Tin Roof

5

Once I got past the greenery that hid Laura’s house, I was surprised at how modest it was. An L-shaped frame bungalow, it had a covered carport on the long side and a multi-glass-paned front door on the protruding side. The former deputy in me made me think how those square panes of glass in her front door made the house easy to break into, but I certainly didn’t intend to mention it.

I skirted the red Jag, rapped twice on the door to the kitchen, and turned the knob. But before I pushed the door all the way open, I stuck my head in to announce myself.

I heard Laura say, “Don’t come here, Martin. And don’t call me again. Not ever.” Her voice was hard and angry, full of bitter animosity.

I froze with my head inside the kitchen and the rest of me outside. Laura stood at a bar on the far side of the kitchen, cell phone at her ear, her face drawn tight. She had taken off the dark shades but still wore the Cowboys cap.

Motioning me in, she said, “Goodbye, Martin.”

Hesitantly, I pushed the door open and got my whole self inside. But the instant I was completely in, a banshee scream sounded at my feet and caused me to leap like a kangaroo. Leo streaked to Laura’s side and glared at me.

I said, “Oh, I’m so sorry! Did I step on him?”

In a heartbeat, Laura’s face went from savage fury to wry humor. As if stepping on a cat were a trifling thing, she said, “It’s his own fault. He has this awful habit of sitting beside a door and stretching his tail across the opening. Gets his tail stepped on all the time, but he keeps doing it. I don’t know if he’s too dumb or too stubborn to give it up.”

Waving her cell phone for emphasis, she said, “He’s a lot like my soon-to-be ex. Either too dumb or too stubborn to know when it’s time to let something go. That was him on the phone, being a complete ass, as usual.”

I said, “If this is a bad time—”

“Oh, no! This is a perfect time. I have much more need of a friend than I do to talk to my ex!”

I liked being called a friend.

Putting the cell phone on the bar where a bulky black land phone squatted, she took off her cap and shook her hair. She wore a long skirt with a brief ribbed cotton sweater and high-heeled espadrilles. Even with her Cowboys cap and dark glasses, she would have been the glamorous one at the supermarket.

She said, “I have to get out of these clothes. There’s a bottle of Chablis in the fridge. If you’d rather have red, there’s some in the rack. Wineglasses in the far right cabinet.”

She scooted down a hallway, and Leo trotted after her. In a minute or two, I heard two screeches, one from her and one from Leo.

She hollered, “Leo! You’ve got to stop doing that!”

In a softer voice, she said something else I couldn’t make out. Whatever it was that Leo had done seemed to be forgiven.

Left alone, I considered the wine options. I actually prefer red, but I didn’t want to risk staining my teeth before the evening with Guidry, so I got out two wineglasses and poured Chablis in both of them. Men wouldn’t do that. Men eat garlic and onions without worrying about their breath and they drink whatever they damn well please no matter what kind of stains it may leave on their teeth. Women are dopes. But I was a woman, so I would drink white wine.

Searching for napkins, I opened several drawers that held flat-ware and cooking stuff, then pulled out a drawer that turned out to be a deep pull-out storage cabinet. It held all kinds of cat supplies—cat vitamins, packets of kitty treats, bottles of food additives to make coats shiny, and two twenty-pound bags of organic dry cat food. I grinned at the generous oversupply, sort of a sure sign that Leo was Laura’s first cat.

Behind me, Laura said, “What are you doing?”

Her voice had gone hard again, and when I turned to her I saw frost in her green eyes. She had changed into baggy drawstring pants and a sleeveless knit top, but that was the only thing about her at the moment that looked relaxed.

I said, “Sorry, I’m looking for napkins. It’s an illness I inherited from my grandmother. She got the vapors if anybody used paper towels.”

She laughed, easy and friendly again, and padded barefoot to pull out a slim drawer full of cocktail napkins. Flapping a couple at me, she said, “Do they have to be cloth, or will paper do?”

I shoved the drawer of cat stuff closed with my hip. “My grandmother would have preferred cloth, but paper works for me.”

She smiled, handed me a napkin, and picked up one of the glasses of wine. Raising it toward me, she said, “Cheers, new friend.”

Again, I was flooded with the warm fuzzy feelings that come with discovering that somebody you like likes you back. The fragrance of some very expensive perfume wafted toward me. I hoped I wasn’t sending off wafts of doggie smell.

Leo trotted into the kitchen and stopped beside Laura to give me a calculating once-over. Havana Browns are graceful solid-brown hybrids with emerald eyes and big forward tilting ears. As svelte as they are, they’re muscular cats, and it’s always a surprise to pick one up and discover how heavy it is. Males like Leo weigh about ten pounds, and every ounce is strong.

I didn’t speak to him, just waited for him to deign to speak to me. Cats like for you to acknowledge their superiority right away. Dogs are so happy to have new acquaintances they’ll throw away every shred of dignity and approach you first. I’m afraid I’m more like a dog.

Laura said, “I know it’s early for dinner, but I’m starving. How about you?”

“Whenever there’s food, I’m hungry.”

Putting her wineglass down, she opened the refrigerator, dived into the vegetable bin, and began tossing out plastic bags of mystery things, hurling them more or less accurately into the sink.

She said, “I hope you’re not on one of those low-carb diets. I was thinking about fettucini Alfredo.”

I said, “I love Alfredo and everything he stands for.”

She grinned. “I knew you were a smart girl first time I met you.”

She got out a wooden salad bowl, and I moved to the sink and began washing romaine while she put water on to boil and chopped garlic. It was nice, very nice, to have that kind of rapport with another person.

By the time we had dinner ready, we had each stepped on Leo’s long tail several times and done quick dances of remorse and annoyance, which Leo ignored.

We had also crossed over the divide that separates friendly acquaintances from friends. Laura had told me who her hairdresser was—Maurice at the Lyon’s Mane—and I had given her the name of a holistic veterinarian, my gynecologist, and my dentist.

Women need other women as friends. To giggle at dumb things one minute and go deep into our most secret selves the next. Laura and I had that kind of connection, the kind that allows you to explore any idea without worrying that you’ll be judged.

We carried our dinner to the living room, a surprisingly impersonal room with oversized white ceramic tile on the floors and louvered shades covering the windows. The furniture was the sell-by-the-roomful type that landlords put in seasonal rentals. No rugs to break the white monotony of the tile. No family heirlooms. No lovingly collected flea-market finds. No photographs, no magazines, no collectibles. The only personal touch was an African violet in a white porcelain pot under a window. I knew that barren look. It was a lot like my own place.

We ate sitting on the floor around the coffee table. Leo lay between us, blissfully resting his head on Laura’s bare foot, his long tail stretched out for somebody to trip over.

I confessed that my favorite singer of all time was Patsy Cline, and Laura said hers was Roy Orbison, which we both thought was an amazing coincidence because anybody who’s ever given it any thought knows that Patsy and Roy must have come from the same soul. We also agreed that k.d. lang is most likely Patsy Cline reincarnated, and neither of us was embarrassed to say it.

Something thumped outside the window, and Leo jerked upright with his ears pointed toward the sound. Laura went still, with her fork poised in midair.

I said, “It was just a squirrel or something.”

She shook her head as if she were mentally lecturing herself.

“I never know whether Leo’s heard a serial killer or whether he just gets a kick out of scaring me.” Leo lay back down with his tail draped across her lap. She pushed it aside and said, “You know, moving here has brought me the first sense of peace I’ve ever had.”

There was a curious blend of innocence and world-weary wisdom in the way she said it.

I said, “I’ve never lived anyplace else.”

She grinned. “I know. You put on a tough front, but deep down you’re just a sweet southern girl who’s never seen the ugly side of life.”

I bristled. “I am not sweet, and I’ve seen plenty of ugly.”

She laughed. “Sweetie, what you’ve seen is chicken feed.”

The landline phone in the kitchen rang, and an impersonal robotic voice announced, “Call from Number Available.”

Laura went still, her jade eyes wary. After a few more announcements, the answering machine switched on. An unctuous male voice spoke loudly enough for us to hear every word.

“Please pick up, Laura. I know you’re home. Please don’t reject me this way.”

Laura scrambled to her feet to race to the phone, but she got there too late to keep me from hearing him. “I’m outside your house. Please open the door to me, Laura. That’s all I ask.”

Laura snagged the phone from its cradle, her own voice sharp. “You have to stop this! I swear to God, if you don’t leave me alone I’ll have you arrested for stalking me.”

Leo had sat up again with his ears pointed forward. He and I sat frozen in place.

Laura listened a moment and said, “No! I have company now. Please, please, please go away, and don’t call me again.”

Another pause and then her voice became almost amused. “You misunderstood. I appreciated your help, but that’s all. Now leave me alone.”

I heard the phone slam into its holder, and she stomped back to the living room with her lips tightened. “So help me, if that man calls again I’m going to report him to the police.”

She sat down on the floor again. Beside her, Leo remained at attention.

“Who is he?”

She sighed. “Right after I moved here I twisted my knee running. It swelled pretty bad, so I went to the emergency room to see if it was something serious. This jerk was there, and he must have got my number from the woman at the desk. He calls every day begging to see me. He’s a nut.”

I’m not exactly an eyesore, but I’ll never cause people to go all goggly the minute they see me. I wondered what it was like for Laura to know she had that effect.

Rapping sounded at the front door, and we all swiveled our heads. Through the glass panels we could see the shadowy outline of a large man.

Laura made a fist and shook it toward the door. “Go away!”

The knocking continued, but Laura didn’t go to the door.

Outside, the man shouted, “This is quite unacceptable, Laura! Unacceptable and unfair!”

After a while, the figure disappeared. Leo stretched himself beside Laura’s feet, and Laura’s body relaxed.

Even moderately beautiful women attract men whose fantasies can cause them to go to nutty extremes. A woman as jaw-droppingly gorgeous as Laura probably attracted them by the dozen.

I said, “Has he come here before like that? Demanding to see you?”

“No, he’s never gone that far before.”

I was tempted to warn her that her front door would be a snap for anybody wanting to break in, but I didn’t want to add to her fears. Besides, any door can be opened by somebody really determined.

I said, “If he does it again, you really should call the police.”

“I know. It’s just that I’d thought I’d left all that behind. Being afraid, threatening to call the police. I hate it.”

She leaned to pour the last of the wine in our glasses.

“I was in an abusive relationship,” she said. “Very abusive. I’m not over it yet.”

“Ah, so that’s what it was.”

“You knew?”

“I knew you were recovering from something. I recognized the signs.”

“Like what?”

I gestured around the impersonal room. “This place, for one thing. I know it’s not your home. Are you hiding from your ex?”

She looked alarmed. “You’re very perceptive. He’s not exactly my ex yet, I’ve just filed for divorce. He’s a very powerful orthopedic surgeon in Dallas. You may have heard of him. He’s Dr. Reginald Halston. The Dr. Reginald Halston. Before he went to medical school, he was a linebacker for the SMU Mustangs. He’s big. Really big.”

I could have sworn I’d heard her call him Martin, and I wasn’t sure if she meant he was big in size or just big in fame, but I didn’t press the point. Plenty of people are known professionally by one name but their families and close friends call them something else. Laura’s eyes had widened with awe when she said the name, so he must have been a big deal in Dallas. I said I’d never heard of him, and she looked faintly disappointed.

In a rush, she said, “I was his receptionist for a year before he asked me out. He’d been married twice before, and he has children. He never sees them, but I always knew they were there, waiting in the wings for me to fall on my face. His first wives were college-educated and from rich families. Not like me. I guess I fell in love, but I’m not sure. I have to admit I liked the idea of marrying a rich doctor. And to his credit, I have to say he was never cheap. I could buy anything I wanted, and I did.”

She drained her wineglass and ran the tip of her tongue around her lips to get the last drop.

I said, “I’m guessing there was another side to him, right?”

“At night, he would lie in bed and throw scalpels at the ceiling. They never stuck, just fell back down, and he would laugh at me for being afraid one would hit me. He carved my stomach with his scalpels too. He almost killed me several times. One time he choked me until I blacked out and my eyes were red for days from broken blood vessels, but he wouldn’t let me go to the hospital. He’s so big and strong, I was terrified of him.”

She was watching my face closely, and I got the feeling she had never told anybody else about her husband’s violence. I was flattered she trusted me enough to confide in me.

“Jesus, Laura, he sounds sick.”

“He’s insane. If the hospital knew what he’s really like, they would kick him out. My folks don’t know either. They were so thrilled I had married a rich doctor that I never told them. I told my sister everything, but Celeste is the only one who knows.”

I said, “It must have taken a lot of courage to leave.”

She laughed shortly. “I left when I found out I was pregnant. I will not let him turn his sick mind on my child. I’m four months now, and nobody knows except my sister.”

I looked at her drawstring pants. “You don’t show yet.”

“I’ve put on a little weight, but I was too thin before.”

“He doesn’t know where you are?”

She looked smug. “When I left Dallas, I cleaned out our joint checking account. Then I drove my Mercedes to Arkansas and sold it at a used-car place. I took a bus to Sarasota and bought the Jaguar. I have enough money to live on for a while, and I have some good diamond jewelry. When I need to, I’ll pawn it or sell it.”

Her face flushed, either with embarrassment at having revealed so much about herself, or because she’d called attention to the jewelry.

“He told me if I ever left him he would kill me.”

I said, “He knows how to reach you—”

“He only knows my cell number, and it’s still based in Dallas. He doesn’t know where I am. But I’m always afraid. . . .”

She didn’t need to finish the sentence, I knew what she was afraid of. I also knew that nobody can truly disappear if somebody wants them found. Especially if the somebody has plenty of money to hire good private investigators.

“Is anything in your name here? A lease? The house phone? Utilities?”

She shook her head. “I’ve thought of all that. The house belongs to my folks. They live in Connecticut and all the bills go to them. They intend to move here when Dad retires, and in the meantime it’s a retreat for whoever needs it. Celeste, that’s my sister, lived here for a year when she got a divorce, and one of my cousins stayed here for a while when he was out of work.”

“Your sister’s in Connecticut too?”

She shot me a look that said I was dangerously close to asking too many personal questions.

“Dallas.”

Leo yawned with a big show of boredom, and I leaned to stroke his neck. There were some holes in Laura’s story, but people gloss over details in the interest of condensing an account to its main facts. For now, the fact that she had told me something so painful meant we had crossed an important hurdle in our beginning friendship.

She said, “You said you recognized the signs that I was hiding from somebody. Does that mean you were—”

“No. I was never abused.”

A silence stretched, and I opened my mouth and told the thing so hard to say.

“Almost four years ago, my husband and little girl were on their way home, and they stopped to pick up some groceries. My husband was a deputy, and he had picked Christy up at daycare when he got off duty. She was three years old. A man driving across the parking lot turned into a parking place, but instead of hitting the brake he slammed his foot on the gas pedal. He jumped over the wheel stop and hit Todd and Christy and three other people before he crashed into a parked car. They told me Todd and Christy died instantly.”

Laura whispered, “I’m so sorry.”

That’s all. She didn’t try to make me feel better about it, didn’t tell me to cheer up because they were with Jesus now, didn’t tell me she was sure I’d get over it in time. She just absorbed a little bit of my pain. I don’t think there’s anything more generous one human being can do for another.

I suddenly wanted to tell her more about myself, to be as open as she had been and share the kind of things that women share. I wanted to tell her that I was a lot better now, that I had actually begun to live again. I wanted to tell her that I had kissed two men a few months ago, and that while I had pulled back from both of them, I hadn’t closed any doors. I wanted to tell her I was going on a date with Guidry Saturday night. I wanted to tell her all the kinds of things women tell each other when they’re close friends. But it was late, and there would be time for those confidences later.

When I told her goodbye that night, I knew I was leaving a new friend.

She said, “I’ll see you soon.”

But as it turned out, she wouldn’t.