Chapter Two

Eugene goes home after a short while. The silence that lapses over the two of us is awkward. We're too sad to try to fill it in with a conversation. When he leaves, I wish for his return tomorrow. He doesn't say when he'll be back. He just nods at me and he and Maximus walk out into the snow.

It's dark when he leaves, around dusk. The sun's light had died around late afternoon, but at dusk the sky looks like it is midnight.

I sit around with Pascal when Eugene leaves. I feed Pascal and try to brush his fur the wrong way, just to give him something to do. While Pascal aggressively licks his fur the correct way, I settle on my bed with an old tale of love and lose myself in the words.

I wake up with Pascal so close to my face that I nearly sneeze.

"Mornin'," I mumble and sit up. My hair is all over the place. I brush it back with my hands and comb through it lazily, waking up slowly. I look around my room and climb off the bed.

I leave my light cream walls behind and walk into the living room. There's no sign of Eugene or Maximus anywhere.

In the kitchen, I make a quick break feast of cold bread and fresh melted snow in a cup. Pascal nibbles on a freshly caught mouse by my feet. He must have caught it before he sat on my face because the mouse's fur appears damp with melting snow.

"At least your food is warm," I murmur aloud, thinking of what the mouse tastes like. Maybe a little like chicken? It doesn't look good, but I wasn't a cat. . .

At dinner, I find Pascal eating yet another mouse.

I turn back to the stove-

A knock on the door startles me.

I hurry to the door, wondering if I should bring my piece of wood. I shake my head at myself, and my hand goes to the doorknob. I prepare myself for any sort of situation - a heavy object flying to my head, someone knocking me down trying to loot the house, a man pinning me to the wall- and turn the doorknob, opening the door.

Eugene stands in the threshold, weak sunlight shining down on his figure from behind. I blink when I see his attire, and what he's carrying. Eugene's dressed in a thick wool dark cream jacket with a fur-lined hood. His brown bucket top boots are covered in snow, and the hood is off of his head though he's wearing some sort of ear covering. The ear covering is made of two thick balls of fluff connected by a fluffy rope. The ends of Eugene's dark cream pants that match his wool jacket are tucked in his boots and I blink down at Eugene's items.

It looks like a suitcase, only made of soft leather instead of wood. I step aside to let Eugene in, seeing the redness of his face and nose. I feel fur brush past my legs and see Maximus follow Eugene inside.

I peek my head out of the threshold, taking a step outside in the snow, and look around, hoping no one followed Eugene. I see no one and close the door.

Eugene's still standing in the cold foyer, and I shoo him into the kitchen. "Sorry, um, you can go to the kitchen. It's warmer there."

Eugene smiles, sniffling, and Maximus follows his master into the warm kitchen. I take a second to feel gratitude that I had gotten dressed this morning, though it's not warm attire. I'm only wearing a light pink cotton dress that reaches my knees and soft slippers made of wool.

I make myself busy by preparing Maximus and Eugene a cup, well, a bowl for Maximus, of fresh peppermint tea. I grind the peppermint into little chunks and boil water on the stove. I pour the two ingredients into their cup and bowl, and stir quickly, adding sugar. When it's ready, I turn around only to find Eugene right behind me.

"Here you go," I say, handing Eugene his cup. I find Maximus, sitting adorably close to Pascal, and set the bowl in front of him. "Drink up."

Eugene takes a seat at the table and I join him, fetching him a plate of cold bread. "Sorry about the bread. I'd heat it up, but um. . ."

"It's fine, thank you," Eugene's deep voice makes something in me grow warm. I'm glad to have someone else to talk to.

"How was your day?" I say, and then add awkwardly, "morning, I mean?"

"I fell in a snow drift." Eugene mumbles, his light brown eyes going to my face as I nibble on my bread. "It wasn't really a high point of my day."

"I just realized what Pascal was eating," I say, gesturing to my cat who was beginning to clean his whiskers. "I hope he's the one who will throw it out."

Eugene smiles a bright smile. "I could do it for you."

"No, that's okay," and then I think of something. "He'll have to eat the next one outside. I hear that's how it started."

"The fleas?" Eugene looks at Pascal and then at Maximus.

"I heard that, yes." I don't like the distress that begins to make Eugene's red cheeks turn rose red. "But they're not scratching, so we're fine."

Eugene's mouth closes, and he clicks his tongue a few times. "Okay." He says, and then unconvincingly adds, "If Max catches anything, I'll throw him out."

I say nothing because I can already see the pain forming in his eyes at the thought of doing so. I put my hand on his hands on the table. Of what he has, the thick coat, the ear covering, and the boots, Eugene has no gloves. "Your hands are cold."

"I lost my gloves in a raid," Eugene says, and then he looks at me sullenly, "someone took them."

I say lightly, "Serves you right," and rub his hands against mine fiercely. For a little bit, there's nothing other than the sound of two people and two animals breathing. Eugene sinks back against his chair, and I notice the dark circles under his closed eyes. Pity fills me as I think of the unwanted sleep I've been getting, and the restless sleep Eugene probably suffers through every night.

"Hey," I say gently, and shake him. He rouses slowly, his light brown eyes opening. I see that somehow he has fallen asleep sitting up. "Why don't you sleep by the fireplace?" I don't know if it is lit, but I know how to light it. Father made sure to teach me how.

I get up from the table before Eugene can protest and hide my tears with my hands. I walk to the living room and grab the poker. My emerald eyes survey the wood and I'm pleased to see that the fire is still ablaze from the night before. I poke the wood and the flames blaze hotter, warmer.

I stand back up, setting the poker where it belongs, and glance back at the table. Eugene has fallen asleep again. This time, I ignore his sleeping body and head to the linen closet in the middle of the house. It's right by the guest washroom, and I remind myself to offer to wash Eugene's clothes.

I dig around for warm comforters and find Mother's pale sky blue comforter. I freeze and my hands gently hold the folded mass of pale sky blue. I lean my head down to sniff it, and I feel a small thrill when I smell Mother's perfume on it. There's more of her perfume, in her bottle on her vanity that I haven't touched. Going in Mother's and Father's room hurts, but when had I washed their bedspread?

I hear a meow and look down to see Pascal. He claws at the wall and I crouch down, holding out the blanket. "You still smell our queen?" I ask him, my voice thick because I'm trying not to cry.

Pascal meows again and buries his head in the blanket. The sight makes a tear fall and I hurriedly wipe it. I use my free hand and pat Pascal's head, and then I stand up to find more comforters.

I walk back into the living room and lay out the comforters on top of each other in layers. I remove pillows from the plush, slightly damp loveseat, and put them near the top of the layered comforters. It's a makeshift bed. I'd let him sleep in mine, but those few months I had known him, we were friends, best friends he said, and nothing more.

I shake Eugene at the table again. "Eugene, I made you a bed."

Eugene yawns, his eyes opening slowly. He still looks exhausted. "You did?"

"Mh-hm," I hum in confirmation. I help him out of his seat, not because he's incapable, but because he still looks half-asleep. I steer him to the makeshift bed and lay him down. He kicks off his boots and shrugs out of his jacket. I lay both items on one of the loveseats and take his offered ear covering. I take a second to marvel at them.

"Ear muffs." Eugene's voice, a little more awake, startles me. I look at him, turning pink.

"What was that?"

Amusement enters Eugene's sleepy eyes. "They're called ear muffs."

"Oh," I hum in fascination. I place them on his jacket and grab the poker to stir the fire a bit more. "Are you warm?"

"The fire's nice, yes," Eugene says, and I turn to see him get more comfortable on the bed I made for him. Maximus settles at the foot of the bed and I smile when I see Pascal tentatively pad up to the wolf-like dog and curl beside him.

"I'll be in my room, right over there," I point and Eugene nods, though his eyes never saw where my hand pointed. Eugene's eyes are closed, and within seconds, I see his chest begin to heave slower.

He's knocked out cold.

I smile, a sight he wouldn't see, and put the poker down on the mantle of the fireplace. I walk to my room, leaving Pascal, and pull out the same book from earlier yesterday.

Somehow, I fall asleep reading the words.