Chapter 12; Night Time Visits
It became a re-occurring dream for Humbert: the strange woman appearing on or near his bed. Sometimes she ran for his cupboard and held any item of clothing to herself, sometimes she just huddled on his bed, trying to cover herself with his sheets. The first night, it seemed, she hadn't had enough time to realise her nakedness.
After a month of this, Humbert left his dressing gown at the foot of his bed for her, a nearer place than his cupboard and more sufficient than bedclothes.
"Thank you, Humbert," she said, wrapping herself up in the robe. Her words were slightly disjointed, like she had to think about the next syllable before she could say it. It was the first time she had spoken. "It is sweet of you," she added, emphasising the word sweet, as though she had heard it but wasn't completely sure it was the right word.
She spoke like a tourist, one who knew only half of the language, and wasn't comfortable speaking it, but she didn't have any accent.
"You're welcome," he answered, swinging his legs out from under the covers to stand and move, carefully, closer to her. He hadn't done this before, and didn't want her to run away again when they had just started to talk.
She was, he supposed, just a little younger than he was. Maybe twenty, going on twenty-one. He'd turned twenty-two a little while ago.
The lady shifted on her feet, and Humbert didn't know what to say. The simple questions – What's your name? Where are you from? – seemed intrusive, and he wasn't very good at starting conversations.
He shifted his gaze to his feet, rubbing his neck and trying to think of something to say, but when he looked up again, she was gone, his robe in a heap on the carpet. Haru was staring at him from near the robe, but when he still didn't say anything, she went back to her bed under his desk. Humbert sighed and turned back to his own bed. He had no more dreams that night.
The next day was Saturday, and Humbert spent the day making meals to turn into left overs and talking to his cat, though mostly he was thinking about the woman he was always dreaming about. If it was a dream. His dressing gown had still been in a pile on the floor when he woke up; proof that it was more real than the usual kind of dream.
"Did you see her Haru?" he asked, rubbing a finger against her cheek as he sat and ate lunch. "I wonder where she came from, who she is, and how does she disappear like that do you think?" his last question more serious than the two wonderings before. "Why does she disappear like that, and for that matter, how does she appear, and why in my room?"
Haru gave him a long look. Cats are very good at those. The kind of look that says, in no uncertain terms, "you're a fool", without telling, in any way, why this was.
"Sick of me talking to you about another woman?" Humbert hazarded, pausing in his patting.
Haru nodded, once, slowly, just like she had when she was a kitten.
"You're not jealous are you my dear?" he asked, resuming the loving strokes down the feline's brown back. "I hardly know her after all, and you never got jealous of all those girls Mother set me up with."
Haru jumped down from his lap and, tail in the air, sauntered over to her water bowl and, tail lashing from side to side, crouched down to drink. It was an "I've decided to ignore you" attitude.
"You're still my favourite girl," he said, green eyes soft, and a smile on his face as he watched her – she paused for a moment, smiled her catty smile, and started again.
