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Dale could not believe that three years could bring so many changes. He stood in the entrance, feet firmly inside and the door open to the elements. It was sleeting.
Late October in Michigan held few surprises for Dale. Wistfully he recalled the countless Halloweens he and his brother Phil had celebrated in that house. Year after year, planning the perfect costumes and throwing their mother into fits at their disregard for the cold or rain.
Or sleet, he mused.
Even though she threatened to cancel Halloween altogether (and much worse), Mom let the two of them "find out for yourselves when you catch cold." She was waiting for them when they returned, clutching their booty with shivering grips. She handed each of them warm clothes fresh out of the dryer and big mugs of hot cider. That was the very best thing about Mom: she was always there.
Every homecoming rained on Dale like the icy wet at his back. He thought especially of the day Mom called asking him to come home. Years as a diabetic had finally caught up with her, claiming her eyesight and the feeling in her hands and feet. She was determined not be defeated but she needed help. She needed Dale and he was there.
The wind shifted, sending needles of ice and cold rain into the house. Veronica sat on the arm of the sofa waiting for Dale to disappear from her life. She could be smug but he had never before glimpsed the depth of it. When she happened into his life, she wore despair and helplessness like tattered rags against the rain.
Three years ago nearly to the day, Dale thought bitterly.
The image of Veronica wearing such flimsy masks remained with him. Over the years, she'd pulled out every disguise in her trunk. The color of each depended largely on the degree of manipulation that was involved, and Veronica was nothing if not the mistress of that art. Dale failed time and again to appreciate the level of her talent.
He should have been more attentive when she stopped sleeping in his bed. Night after night, Dale heard his mother's voice from her room down the hall. Veronica spent most of her days and then every night there. At the time, he thought it was good that Mom had made a friend. Now he knew better and cursed himself for seven kinds of fool.
Bored with Dale's exasperatingly sluggish leave-taking, Veronica poured herself onto the cushions and prepared to take a nap.
He picked up the last of his belongings, a box of this and that. The judge rendered his decision last week but Dale had neither the resources nor the energy to appeal it. Mom's Will was upheld; Veronica inherited the house.Dale would wait her out.
"Only in the movies and in books, Veronica," he growled. "That's the only place cats have nine lives, and the vet's not too optimistic about the one you got dealt."
Veronica drowsed, purring.
Dale turned his back on her and on his home.
The wait began.
