Page 9 of Stone’s Cage

"Now what do you want to do?"

It's clear she hasn't thought quite ahead to the next step. Tig jumps up in the window and arches his back. He's already filled out a little in the two days he's been with me.

"That's right," I say. "What do you want to do now?"

"How about some food," she says and grips the broken wrought iron poles sticking up from the cement steps. They've lost their handle. Her skin is luminous in the moonlight. A tremor runs up her arm. She must be starving.

"Okay," I say. "I'm gonna go get your food. I'll leave it out here."

With this, she relaxes her grip on the metal pipe. I use this small sign to continue as matter-of-fact as I can. I don't want her to bolt.

"My name is Stone. Carson Stone. You're welcome to sleep out here. But I got a sofa inside. And I'm not going to hurt you. Whatever's happened to you, I'm sorry." I am amazed at how easy this all flies from my mouth. How it didn't take any thinking just to say these things. This is not like me. They call me "Stone" for reasons beyond my last name.

But she shakes her head and sits down in front of the threshold. I let Tig out and he curls in her lap and as she pets him, I step inside and pick off a little bit of chicken from the one I roasted two nights ago and layer it on a cracked purple salad plate. When I hand her the plate, she sets it down on the step and places the tabby right next to it. Without even sniffing, he plunges right in. Hating to close the door on her, I return to the kitchen counter, dump some mac and cheese in a big bowl and open a can a tuna and mix this in, adding a little tab of extra margarine and some milk, using some creamers in the fridge leftover from coffee at the gym. Dishing half into a chipped orange Fiesta bowl from Cassie, I hold the microwave door shut while it heats up.

I open the front door and hand her a stainless-steel spoon. She's just sitting on the front stoop, her knees akimbo, her feet splayed out wider than shoulder length. The little kitten is asleep in her lap, tummy distended.

"Thanks," she says reaching for the spoon, her eyes on the bowl in my other hand.

"Listen, I want the bowl back. You can keep the spoon, but the bowl belonged to my sister. Sentimental value."

"Okay," she says, and her face softens as she settles the mac'n'cheese next to the sleeping kitten on her lap.

Something scurries by the trash cans near the curb and her eyes widened slightly before she digs in.

"This is delicious," she says, around a mouthful, while I step past her to scare those motherfuckers off and bang a few trash cans. Rats. Mice. The city is full of them, some in human form. Tonight though, these are the smaller version.

When I return to the top step, I try again. "I'm leaving the door unlocked in case it gets too cold out here and you change your mind." Glancing down at the now empty bowl, I can’t help myself. "Do you want more?"

She looks up with such startlingly appreciative eyes, I almost laugh, but she says nothing when I take the empty bowl from her hands.

With a little nod, I add, "I'm getting you more." I dump in what's left, telling myself I'll need four eggs in the morning as well as oatmeal. Dumping in another huge ladle of the stuff, I'm glad it's so sticky and dense and cheesy . . . it should fill her up.

"There you go."

"Thank you. I really appreciate it." This time the food begins to disappear again, but not quite so fast.

Thank you. I really appreciate it.

Who talks like that? What are you doing right now? Why are you on the street? are all the questions I want to ask her, but it'll scare her off if I drop even one of them. So, I try something else.

"Do you have a place to be?"

Shrugging her shoulders, she answers with, "I'm living a peripatetic lifestyle right now," and she keeps spooning food into her mouth.

I just stand there. How? What? Peripatetic?

"I'm Lily," she offers as if this explains all.

I reach down to grab the kitten again. He can’t stay out here.

"He's going inside, where you should be," I say, and it kills me a little more when I have to close the door on her.

I kiss Tig on the head before I set him on the floor. He's Lily bait.

Chapter Seven

Lily