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“You aren’t in Whatì, and I don’t live there.”
“Close enough!” She practically spits the words at me.
I stare at her for a moment. She has intense green eyes—not as bright as the kitten’s, but definitely notable. Her eyes held a soft and curious look while inside, but now they are dark and blazing. She’s so enraged, she doesn’t even look like the same person anymore, but I can’t figure out why she could possibly be so pissed at me.
Then again, most people take their anger out on whomever is closest to them, and not the person who actually makes them angry. Whatever her issue is, it’s not my problem, and I want nothing to do with her.
“Fuck off.” I turn away. I’m not going to be drawn into an obviously pointless argument, and this woman apparently has a screw loose. I try to ignore the fact that she isn’t moving along as I finish loading my Jeep and then make my way to the driver’s side door. She follows me.
I continue to ignore her presence as I climb inside and shut the door. She keeps staring as I start the engine and pull away without letting it warm up first.
I glance in my rearview mirror one last time to see her smiling and waving.
“Thanks for the donuts!”
I shake my head as I drive away, realizing my heart is pounding rapidly in my chest. The whole encounter has left me strangely unnerved, and I reach into the bag that holds my booze and cigarettes on the passenger seat. I steer with my knee as I get out a smoke and light it. I cough when I inhale, a reminder that I should probably stop buying the damn things, but winter brings long stretches of boredom, and smoking helps pass the time.
I glance in the rearview mirror again and watch the strange woman disappear behind me, grateful to be away from her.
Chapter 3
I’m greeted by a mewing feline before I even get the door open to haul in the first load of supplies. As soon as I put the paper bag containing the milk on the floor near the stove, the little guy is sniffing at it. I wonder if he can actually smell the milk or if he’s just being a typical, curious cat. I’ve never had a pet in my life, and I don’t really know much about how cats behave. When I was a kid, some of the neighbors had dogs that I played with, but all the cats I saw weren’t the friendly type.
I bring most of the supplies inside the cabin before it gets too dark inside to see what I’m doing. The fire in the fireplace has burned down to coals, so I get it going before lighting candles around the place. I have to yell at the kitten to keep him away from the flames.
“You better figure that shit out sooner rather than later.” I cringe as I hear my father’s words coming from my mouth. I take a deep breath and soften my voice. “Don’t want you to burn yourself.”
I take two candles that usually sit on the floor and place them up on the mantle and out of the kitten’s reach. I light a small kerosene lantern in the kitchen and pull out the bottle I bought in Yellowknife, fill it with milk, and then warm it a bit over the fire before feeding the kitten.
“You need a name.” I remember the can of wet cat food with the picture that looked a bit like this one. “Can’t call you Sheba. You’re a tomcat.”
I hold the bottle of milk and stare into the eyes of the kitten as I try to remember anything I can about the name Sheba, searching for a suitable name for the grey bundle of fur. All I can come up with is some vague recollection of the Queen of Sheba screwing King Solomon.
?
??Is Solomon a good name for a cat?” I ask out loud. The kitten doesn’t respond. “Maybe just Solo for short? You’re the only one left of your litter, and chances are you aren’t going to find any companion other than me out here. Solo works as well as anything.”
Solo complains and claws at my fingers as I refill the bottle. I have no idea how much a kitten should eat, but he still seems ravenous, so I keep feeding him. Getting a bit fattened up before winter is a good plan anyway.
“I don’t know how long you were without food, but it must not have been too long. You’re recovering pretty quick, at least.”
Large green eyes stare at me as I keep talking nonsense to a cat. I have no idea why I’m talking to him at all, knowing full well that he understands nothing of what I’m saying. It’s a pointless activity, and I feel foolish, but I do it anyway. It’s not like there’s someone else here to judge me for it.
Solo finishes up his milk and sits near the fire as I put away the rest of my supplies. In the back of the Jeep are a handful of things that need to go to the barn, but I’ll wait to put them away in the morning. It’s already dark outside, and the temperature has surely dropped since the sun went down.
I grab one of the books I bought at the bookstore and sit down in my chair. It’s a mystery with the picture of a startled-looking woman on the cover. I’m a huge fan of mysteries. I like trying to piece all the clues together to see if I can come up with a plausible answer as to “whodunit.” I rarely get it right, but it’s still entertaining. This one is also a nice, thick book, which means it will take me a while to read. Before I get a chance to skim the summary on the back, Solo is climbing up my leg.
“Those claws hurt, you know.”
Solo isn’t concerned with my pain. He picks his feet up and kneads at my thigh and then looks at the book in my hand. He sniffs it briefly before rubbing his face against it. He rubs once more before trying to climb on top of it.
I set the book on the arm of the chair and lean back as Solo crawls up my chest and settles himself down with his nose up near my chin. He’s still tiny and obviously weakened but seems better than when I first found him. Maybe he wasn’t alone out in the woods as long as I thought he might have been. I wonder what happened to his mother.
Thoughts of motherhood in general take my mind to the last time I saw my own mother.
“Do you have anything to say to me? Anything at all?”
I just sat in silence, staring at the barred window separating us.
