His first drink went down in two consecutive cigarettes’ worth of time. He fetched a refill and sipped more calmly. A sense of thaw spread through him. Una had told him how the ancient Persians, were they? always debated vital matters twice before deciding, drunk and sober. He smiled. Not that he meant to tie one on. However … He wasn’t a monster of selfishness, nor narrow, really. He saw the reason for Una’s interests; yes, he had felt a tug of the same when she talked. If only he had leisure . .. Unfair to call her ungrateful. She had in fact tried hard, though being helpmate to his kind of man didn’t come natural. Had he for his part been less tolerant, less giving, even, than he ought? Could he rise as far in the world, no doubt slower but as far in the long run, if he relaxed more with her while they were still young?
Let her make her gesture. If an acquaintance asked where she was, say she’d gone out of town
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on a visit. When she contacted him, let them discuss matters in a reasonable way.
And let him rustle together a meal before he got loaded. Tronen chuckled rather sadly and went to the kitchen. She’d cleaned his breakfast dishes. That touched him; he wasn’t sure why, but it did.
He had selected a can of corned beef hash when he heard a noise. In the stillness which engulfed him, he stood startled. The noise came again, a weak mew … Stray cat? He shrugged. A third cry sounded. He’d better check. The window above the sink was so full of darkness.
When he opened the kitchen door that gave on the patio, light spilled into a thick blue-brown gloom which quickly swallowed it. Thus the kitten on the stoop crouched all alone in his sight. It was about three months old, a bundle of white fur fluffed out against the chill, a pink nose, two large amber eyes. “Weep,” it piped, “weep,” and bounded past him into the warmth behind.
“Hey, wait a minute,” Tronen said. The kitten sat on the linoleum and looked up at him, up, up, up. It didn’t appear starved or ill. Then why had it invaded his house?
Tronen bent over to take the beast and put it back out. It ran from his hand, huddled in a corner by the stove, and watched him as if terrified. Why should a pet be afraid of a man? Tronen felt the night reach in, icy around his backbone. He sighed, rose, closed the door. The creature must have gotten lost. On those short legs, it couldn’t have wandered far. Okay, he’d
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give it a place till he’d eaten, then phone around and learn whose it was. Several of his neighbors were prominent in Senlac, two of thema state party committeeman and the owner of a growing grocery chainon a larger scale. His kindliness would be appreciated. He hoped the kitten was housebroken.
Minutes later, as a pan sputtered savory smells, he heard another mew. The kitten had crept timidly forth to tell him it was hungry. Ah, well, why not oblige? On impulse, he warmed the milk; this was such a bleak night. The kitten assaulted the bowl ravenously. Tronen took a bench in the dinette for his own supper. After a bit, full-bellied, the kitten rubbed against his ankles. He reached down in an absentminded fashion and tickled softness. The kitten went into ecstasies. He resumed eating. The kitten sprang to his lap and curled in a ball. He felt the purr.
Having finished, he put the animal back on the floor. He meant to shut it in the kitchen, where misbehavior wouldn’t have serious consequences, while he investigated. But it pattered by him too fast. “Damn!” It led him a merry chase to the living room. There it turned, sprang in his direction, rolled around at his feet, eager for fun and games.
Hm, he’d better determine the sex anyway. He settled on the couch again, by a phone he kept there (as well as those in the bedroom and his den). The kitten didn’t mind examination. Male. He let his left hand keep it amused while his right dialed and his shoulder held the receiver.