Page 85 of The Hitchhikers
“What will she do if she can’t get you?”
“She might call a neighbor.”
“Goddamnit!” Simon kicked one of the kitchen chairs, knocking it over, and making Jenny flinch. Ruth pressed her fingertips against her lips, eyes wide.
After a moment of Simon breathing hard, with his hands on his hips as he glared down at the chair, he spun back around toward Ruth. “Breakfast. We need food and coffee.”
“Now?” Ruth spoke in a hushed voice.
“She doesn’t have to—” But Jenny didn’t get to finish before Simon grabbed Ruth’s arm, lifting her from the chair, his hand tight around her bicep. Ruth’s face twisted.
“Simon! You’re hurting her.”
He glanced at Ruth’s face and let go of her arm, giving his head a shake. Jenny wished she knew if he was angry at her or if he was angry at himself for hurting the woman.
“Make enough for everyone.” He sat in the chair, gun on the table, and lit a cigarette.
Ruth filled the percolator with water, then scooped coffee grounds into the basket. She put everything back together and sat it on one of the burners, clicking the knob until a blue flame burst up, and all the while Jenny stood uselessly nearby. Shethought about sitting with Simon, but then Ruth noticed her and pointed to a cupboard.
“You can gather mugs, cream, and sugar.”
Ruth was slower than Alice when she cooked. She carefully laid each piece of bacon in the frying pan so that they didn’t touch, flipped them when they were crispy, then took them out and lined them up on a plate covered with paper towel. She gently stirred the scrambled eggs, adding small bits of cream and salt. She didn’t speak to Jenny other than to make brief requests, always with a please or a thank-you, as though Jenny was a guest. The only time she sounded unhappy was when she muttered about how she wished she had her knives, so she could make hash browns. Jenny worried that Simon would hear, but when she glanced at him, his expression was blank as he gulped his coffee and took quick drags of his cigarette, tapping the ash onto a saucer.
When breakfast was ready, Jenny sat across from Simon, who shoved forkfuls of food into his mouth. She studied his bloodshot eyes and his hands, which were nicked and bleeding. He smelled of mechanic’s grease and stale beer. He looked up at her, his eyes softening as he gave her a small smile. He was still there. He was still her Simon. She took a deep breath.
A scratching sound at the back door. Simon grabbed the gun.
“It’s just Bones,” Ruth said as she walked toward the porch. “He’ll be wanting his food.”
“Stop!” Simon said. “I didn’t tell you that you could open that door.”
Ruth froze, her hands out. “Sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”
“Walk backward into the kitchen.”
She slowly reversed until she was near the sink, then lowered her hands. She looked at Simon. “Can I get his bowl ready?”
Simon nodded, then turned to Jenny. “Let the dog in, babe.”
When she opened the door, Bones bounced into the house and ran straight for the bowl that Ruth had set on the floor. For the next couple of minutes, the only sounds were of Bones crunching his kibble while the chain on his collar smacked against the bowl.
Jenny had been hungry, but with the fresh tension in the air, she couldn’t eat the rest of the food on her plate. She sipped at her coffee and waited for Simon. When he was finished, she cleared off the table. Simon pushed it and the chairs out of the way, then lifted the hatch.
While they’d been eating, Ruth had washed the frying pan, loaded the tray from the night before with plates of food and a bottle of milk, and refilled the plastic pitcher of water.
Jenny watched Ruth disappear down into the basement, each step making the dishes clatter on the tray. She had taken the container of cookies. Bones scrambled to follow.
When the hatch was closed, Simon turned to Jenny. “Can you pack up some food? Water too. We need to be ready in case we have to split. That phone call has me spooked.”
“Okay.”
While Simon went to get their backpacks, Jenny found a stack of folded brown-paper shopping bags in one of the drawers, but she wasn’t sure what food to take. They wouldn’t be able to cook, and they didn’t have a cooler. She collected two boxes of crackers. A block of cheese, a basket of strawberries, and a few red apples. She searched through cupboards until she found a metal thermos and filled it with water. Lastly, she took a loaf from the bread box.
Simon came out carrying their packs and the pillowcases full of what was left from the robberies. He dumped everything by the back door. She added the food to the collection.
“I need you to keep watch up front while I get the rifles.”
She moved to the living room window. The curtains were still closed from the night before. She slid them open, already feeling the heat of the sun through the glass.
