Page 71 of Three for a Girl

“What?”

“Do you?”

“I guess they are, yes.”

“You can put it in a cage, you can feed it, entertain it, keep it stimulated, but nothing compares to its natural instinct. It’s genetic need to stalk and kill.”

“It’s biological, it’s not something that can be changed.”

“And a tiger out of a cage in the wild is more satisfying than one shoved in a cage.”

“I agree.”

“We watch documentaries of them stalking and killing and we cheer on their successes, seeing a kill, seeing a biological need play out in front of you. It’s a beautiful thing.” He smiled. “That was Romeo for me. I found him enchanting despite what he did, despite not fully understanding him, he was still beautiful.”

****

A numbness took over Chad inside the house.

He ate small amounts, stood under the spray of the shower, functioned on broken sleep, and waited, watching the horizon until his eyes stung.

The radio didn’t help. The music reminded him of Romeo, and he didn’t want to adjust his favorite station.

He didn’t want to fill out a crossword without him, not that he could concentrate enough to read the clues.

The TV offered him little distraction. The day was filled with yet more horror being reported, the evil part of the human psyche.

Chad ventured into the outhouse, staring down at the half-finished puzzle of Michelangelo’s David. He didn’t finish it, but he did gather the left-over pieces in a box for Romeo’s return.

Chad trudged back toward the house with his gaze fixed on the blazing sun.

Even when it vanished, it didn’t take the heat with it.

He spied a car coming down the dirt track, and the fog of misery parted.

He checked the cameras on his phone, but slumped when it wasn’t Romeo.

The purple car, knocked one side of the dirt track to the other like a game of table tennis. He frowned as he tried to identify the driver, barely visible behind the steering wheel.

“Ally?” he whispered before walking to the front to greet her.

She pulled up beside the house and flashed him a smile.

He opened the door for her. “What are you doing here?”

“Give me a sec to gather my stuff.”

She picked something up from the passenger seat before climbing out of the car.

Chad frowned at her oversized biker jacket, and the bright purple handbag hanging off her arm. She was holding a tray covered in foil and pushed it to Chad. He pulsed his nostrils, drawing in the smell, and his stomach grumbled with interest.

“Do you like it?” she said, turning so Chad could see the back of her jacket. A cracked headstone, and a skeleton arm coming out of the dirt.

“Very appropriate.” He snorted.

“It was my husband’s,” she lifted the collar and sniffed. “Still smells like him. His cologne.”

Chad had taken to napping on top of Romeo’s clothes, breathing in the scent of him.

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