Although the little cat had only shared her house for a short time, the place felt small and airless without him. Sugar groaned as she drifted through the kitchen. The corner of her eye registered the blink of the answering machine but she busied herself with baking biscuits for the evening meal, tamping down the resentment that burned in her gut with heavy thoughts of duty and guilt. The sight of the salmon fillet waiting in the fridge reminded her of her guest. How he would have appreciated that fish, more so than Oscar ever would.
She slammed the fridge door and turned back to her mixing bowl. No, Oscar should not be blamed for her sadness. He did not force her to admit the cat to the house. He did not tell her to let him run wild, undoing all her hard work.
Once she had made herself accept the reality that she had let her husband down once again by allowing herself to be frivolous and self-centered, she felt ready to accept his accusing message. She wiped her hands and crossed to the answering machine.
The voice that spilled out was a tinny recording telling her Oscar had earned a free rental at the video store. Sugar let out a gush of breath and stopped the message. No call from Oscar was a relief and a worry at the same time. Could he have met with an accident? She pulled the receiver off the hook and studied the speed dial options: Oscar at work, Oscar’s cell phone, Oscar’s mother, Oscar’s doctor and dentist, Oscar’s regional boss.
A crash from the patio forestalled the phone call. Sugar hung up the phone and scurried to the patio door. A man lay sprawled beside the table where Oscar always set his drink, only the table was now overturned. One beach sandal had worked itself loose and dropped beside his foot. She could see tattoos riding down his arms.
Sugar thought of 911 and then dismissed the idea. Oscar had scolded her the last time for wasting the time of those esteemed rescue workers and the good money he put towards insurance by making them come out to their house for a trivial episode of bleeding. Everyone knows that miscarriages are perfectly natural.
She edged towards the man, watching for breathing. She saw his chest spasm.
“Hello?” Sugar called.
The man rolled partway up and propped himself on one hand, moaning and clutching his chest. “Where am I?”
“Shoals Court, Oscar Daniels’ residence. Who are you?”
“Ber…Ber…Bertie.” The man heaved and began to retch.
Sugar knew only that the mess must be removed at once. She retreated into the house and fetched a piled of clean rags and a bucket.
