Charlie woke up and watched Jenny sleep for a while, cuddling both cats. She looked so beautiful, he thought, her hair pulled back in a ponytail, curled on her side, her hand protectively resting on his kitten. The large cat curled at her back.
As he watched them, the big cat opened an eye and stared at him, then began grooming herself. He smiled at her and headed for the kitchen.
The kitchen wasn't too bad, he thought, as these things went. The appliances, a mixture of black and white, a black gas stove across from a white fridge, a sink forming a counterpoint to them both. The cabinets were made of some kind of cheap stuff but they looked alright. The floor tiles extended into the kitchen, a nice touch.
He found Jenny's note and read it, his brow furrowed.
Does she want to get rid of me? He wondered. We haven't even talked, and at this rate we never will. He paced the kitchen. At this rate, we'll never talk. He stopped by the sink, turned, and opened the fridge.
I've finally got an appetite. He thought for a moment as his stomach lurched. But I don't, because I'm so worried about Jenny. Will she tell me to go to hell? She's made a decent life for herself without me. He snorted, thinking about the "experts" who'd told Jenny she'd never live on her own. She's shown them.
Charlie pulled out some chicken broth, and warmed it in the microwave on the counter. Start low, go slow, he mused. He felt something against his leg, and looked down to see both cats eyeing him.
"It's mine" he said. They kept staring, their big green eyes boring into him. The microwave dinged as the big one began to meow and rub her head against his calf. "You'll never let me eat in peace, will you?" He began looking around for cat food.
Charlie noted, with approval, Jenny's "endless" dry feeder - she probably only had to fill it once a week, if that. The food was fresh, the cat always had something to eat... but they wanted his chicken broth. He rummaged around in a cabinet, finding a generic brand can of cat food.
"Suitiable for kittens" he read out loud. "Let's hit it". He couldn't find a bowl, and didn't know what Jenny used. The big cat began meowing loudly for her dinner. "Shush! You'll wake her up!"
Charlie grabbed a foam plate and dumped the food in the center. He paused, then used the can lid to divide it into two portions, one on each side of the plate. He gagged as he set the plate on the floor, out of way, near the pantry. "Oh, that reeks". He found the trash can.
He sat at the tiny table, sadly wondering if he'd ever eat another meal with Jenny. He remembered their last meal.
Charlie had woken up to the smell of cooking bacon as Jenny bustled in the kitchen. The house was spotless since he'd hired the service to come in twice a week. Jenny had been furious but he had an image to protect.
After he'd gotten out of the shower, he'd eaten and read the paper. Jenny had tried to talk to him but he'd held up a hand (Charlie cringed as he remembered it) to silence her. She'd taken his dishes the minute he finished and poured coffee into his travel mug, fixing it the way he liked. Light tan with a spoonful of real sugar, stirred well. Ah.
He'd picked up his laptop briefcase and walked out of her life forever. Charlie sighed. She had tried, so hard, to talk to him. She'd tried to warn him about the cult. Even when he treated her horribly, she'd stayed, until he'd put her life at risk by tossing her pills.
Charlie cringed as he remembered his dad's reaction when he'd come home to tell them about Jenny. Dad had roared in rage, grabbed Charlie by the collar of his shirt, and beaten him with a belt. "Knock some sense into you... you could have killed her! You moron! You never deserved her!" The words had hurt worse than the actual beating - although he'd had the welts for days.
Jenny, had sent his Dad a postcard. Dad - don't worry. I never missed a dose. I need to find what God wants for me. Please pray for Paul and I both. Love, Jenny
It hurt more, he thought, that she called me Paul, than anything else. I was always her Charlie.
Would he ever be, again?
Charlie looked over at the cats, licking the plate. He wished he'd gotten the name of that awful stuff before he'd thrown out the can. If Baby Girl liked it that much, he'd need to get some more.
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