By nightfall, I was sweaty, depressed and covered in substances best not to consider. My last task of the day was to clean the bathroom, and then take a long, scalding shower. I stood under the water, tension leaving my muscles, and I finally let go of what I’d been holding tightly in check. My Gran was dead. She’d called for me on her deathbed, and I wasn’t there. I wasn’t there to pray over her grave and say goodbye. I wasn’t there. Instead, I was feeling sorry for myself a country away because I’d chosen to marry a faithless bastard. I was a fuckup, plain and simple. I sobbed against the now-white tiles, drowning in self-loathing.
Cleaned, dried and wearing sweats, I walked back downstairs, Chaucer at my heels. I’d put out his food and water bowls as soon as I’d started cleaning, so at least he’d been fed. My stomach growled. I hadn’t eaten anything all day. I found a plastic container of granola. It had been gnawed upon, but the rodent hadn’t made it through. I’d already thrown out all the boxes of foodstuffs. They hadn’t survived the critter-pocalypse.
I stuffed a few handfuls of cereal in my mouth and choked. I washed it down with tepid tap water, while dreaming of mashed potatoes. Maybe some baked mac and cheese. I needed comfort food, stat! Instead I ate another handful of granola and called it good. My stomach hurt. Apparently, it was disgusted with me, too.
I’d found some blankets in the upstairs linen closet. Gran’s water and electricity were still working, so I’d been able to wash them. I knew I’d freeze, sleeping in the car, without something to keep me warm. I considered sleeping on the living room floor, with Chaucer curled up next to me, but then I thought about all the creatures still hiding somewhere in the house, and me sleeping down where they’d have easy access to my face. Just nope.
Chaucer followed me outside. I moved the front seats as far forward as they would go. Chaucer took the back seat, as he had every time he got in. I felt bad making him sleep on the floor of the car, but I did put a blanket down first to cushion it. I lay across the back seat, one blanket cocooning me, while another served as my pillow. I fell asleep with a hand on Chaucer’s head.
Sometime later, I was jolted out of sleep by a bark and a bang. Again, I might have shrieked. A flashlight beam cut through the pitch-black. I sat up, plastered against the far door, the blanket pulled up to my nose. Chaucer’s deep bark boomed in the too-small car. The light spun and illuminated a hideous face. That time I knew I’d shrieked—I was aware of it at the time in a huh-I-didn’t-realize-that-I-actually-made-that-sound kind of way.
He put his fingers over the top of the flashlight and then pointed it at himself again. Without the under glare, he wasn’t hideous, just really freaking annoying.
“What the hell, dude? Is this your thing? Do you sneak up on people in the middle of the night, peeking in windows, trying to scare the crap out of them?”
“Why are you sleeping in your car? It’s thirty degrees, and this back window has holes in it.” His voice was a rumble in the dark, clearly audible through the cracked and broken windows.
“It’s brisk. Chaucer and I sleep better with an open window.”
He grumbled something I didn’t hear. “Katie, why aren’t you sleeping in the house?”
“It’s infested. Rodents, bats, who knows what else. I cleaned all day, and I’m not even close to done.” Wait a minute. “Why do you care? I’m on my own property.” I checked my watch. “And it’s four in the morning. Why are you even here, freaky stalker cop?”
More grumbling. I’m pretty sure I heard some cussing, too. “I’m not stalking you. I got into the habit of driving by Nellie’s house to keep an eye on it over the last few months. I forgot about you until I saw the car. Then I saw the mattresses and junk on the porch. I got out to investigate and saw you, sleeping in your beat-to-shit car.”
Humph. “A likely story.”
I think he was grinding his teeth now. Weird sound. “One more time. Why are you sleeping in your car? If the house isn’t habitable, why didn’t you go to a hotel?”
“Hotels are expensive, genius. I’m just going to go back to cleaning when I wake up, which is apparently now, fricking Nosy Parker.” I pulled the blanket tighter around myself.
He turned, and his flashlight beam lit up the porch and house. “How did animals get in?”
I blew out a breath. “Three windows were left open, the screens chewed through. From the looks of it, they had quite the kegger.”
“I didn’t think to check all the windows. When Nellie got sick, Pops moved her into his house so she wouldn’t have to climb stairs, and so he’d be there when she needed him. Her house has been empty for months.”
The night was becoming more gray than black, allowing me to see the annoyance written all over his face. “Do you want me to go in? Try to get rid of whatever’s taken roost?”
“No, thanks. Bye now!” My stomach chose that moment to rumble. Chaucer shifted, putting his head in my lap to investigate the sound.
More swearing. “Have you eaten?”
“You bet. See ya!” The damn cop would not take a hint.
He started to back away, thank goodness, but then stopped. “I can come back with my pickup. Take all that stuff to the dump for you.”
I leaned forward again, trying to get a better look at his expression. “Why would you do that? You don’t like me, remember?”
“I don’t care enough to not like you. Anyway it’s Nellie I’m thinking about.” He exhaled sharply. “I should have checked the windows. I’ve been driving by every day to check on her house and never once thought about the inside.”
He turned back to me. “Listen, don’t let Pops know, okay? He’s been killing himself tending the garden for her. Just...don’t tell him. Okay?”
“I won’t.”
“I’ll go get my pickup now. Can you pull out anything else that’s been destroyed? And I’ll haul it all away. He may stop by to check on the plants. I don’t want him seeing any of this.”
“Okay.”
He jogged back to his cruiser and left without another word.
“I guess we’re getting started early this morning,” I said to Chaucer.
I fed him with what was left in the bag of dog food. “We need to go shopping today, buddy.”
I cleaned out the rest of the pantry and then the closet under the stairs. Most of the jackets and things that were hanging had been shredded, as though something was searching for food. One looked in decent shape, so I put it aside to wash.
There was a box on the floor that squeaked. I dragged it out of the closet and quickly stuffed a stray scarf into the hole that had been chewed in the side. If there was a nest of rats in the box, I didn’t want to know anything about it. Ever. I hauled it out to the porch, and then pushed it to the extreme end, wanting it as far away as possible. I pretended not to hear the scratching coming from inside. Nope. I didn’t hear a thing.
I stuffed all the sheets and towels that had been used as varmint beds into a large garbage bag, and threw it down the stairs. After I’d gone through the closets and tossed everything that had been gnawed or defecated on, I went back downstairs and stared at my nemesis, the couch. That rat had probably come back during the night, burrowing into the soft, warm couch, laughing its little rat ass off at my sleeping in the car. I wasn’t letting that asshole win. That couch was out of here. I didn’t care if I lived on lawn furniture for the next year, I wasn’t settling for a rat’s sloppy seconds.
I glared at the piece of furniture another minute, and then started pushing it toward the door. Chaucer hopped up on the couch, because rides are fun, and let me struggle to get the damn thing across the room.