He managed to collect a handful of eggs with only minor injuries from the offended hens, then went back to make breakfast. His grandfather was waiting on him. “You left the candle behind.”
“I just went to get eggs,” explained Will.
“Leave it behind again and I’ll cook dinner without letting you have any,” warned the old man.
“Fine with me,” said Will sullenly. “You never cook anyway.”
“It wouldn’t be a punishment if I cooked it,” said the hermit dryly. “Speaking of which, why isn’t breakfast ready?”
“I just woke up a few minutes ago.”
The old man scowled. “If you have that much trouble rising, you can start sleeping on the porch. The sun will wake you up that way.”
Will stared at him, trying to decide if his grandfather was joking or not. Knowing how mean the old bastard is, he probably does mean it, he reasoned. The candle flame burned violently.
“Stop cussing me and get busy,” said the old man.
Will glared at the flame, realizing it had betrayed his emotions. “Stupid candle.” He got busy, heating an iron skillet and cutting the bread into rough slices.
“Have you never handled a knife before?” The old man’s tone was belligerent, as usual.
Will gave him a blank stare. The old geezer had watched him cutting turnips up just the day before.
His grandfather stepped closer and took the knife from his hand. “Gently. Don’t cut bread like you’re trying to chop through a carrot. Use a light touch and pull.” Under his skillful touch, a perfect slice emerged from the loaf of bread.
The old man never ceased to surprise him. Will was about to say something when he felt a sudden movement against his leg. Looking down, he saw a large, grey cat. “What’s this?” he asked.
His grandfather glanced down. “Oh, him. That’s the goddamned cat.”
“You never mentioned having a pet.”
“Pet? Hell no,” protested the hermit. Cracking one of the eggs into a small wooden bowl, the old man placed it on the ground, whereupon the cat began to eat.
“If he isn’t your cat, why are you feeding him?” asked Will, puzzled. “If you feed strays, they won’t leave.”
“Who says I’m feeding him?” quipped the hermit. “I’m just paying rent. And don’t call him a stray; you’ll piss him off.”
He really is crazy, thought Will. Reaching down, he tried to pet the grey feline, but it hissed and bared its teeth at him.
“See?” said his grandfather smugly. Cracking the rest of the eggs one by one, he began frying them in the pan.
“You just called him the ‘goddamned cat,’” argued Will. “How is that any better than ‘stray’?”
“He’s got his pride,” said the hermit.
“Is he your familiar?” The cat looked up at Will’s words and hissed at him. If he didn’t know better, he might have believed the creature understood him.
His grandfather slid the eggs from the pan to a waiting plate with a smooth, practiced motion and then used his other hand to swat the back of Will’s head. “Don’t be a jackass!” Then he addressed the cat, “Don’t mind him. He’s a charity case I picked up. He’ll learn better manners.”
The stray blinked once, slowly, then returned to eating the raw egg.
The old man split the eggs between two plates and then arranged the toast beside them and began spreading butter on the slices on his own plate. He pointed the knife at Will. “No butter for you.”
Will was very sure his grandfather didn’t have a cow. “Where did you get butter?”
Predictably, the old man replied, “None of your damn business.” Then he lifted a knob of butter on the end of the knife and offered it to the cat, who had just finished his raw egg. “Want any?”
The cat turned its head away and began cleaning one paw.
“Suit yourself,” said Will’s grandfather. Turning back to his grandson, he added, “Let’s get one thing straight. The goddamn cat owns this place. We’re his tenants, so mind yourself when he’s around.”
Will wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry. It seemed every day that his guardian showed a new facet of his personal insanity. “What’s his name?”
“How the hell should I know?” responded his grandfather. “He’s a cat. If you feel the need to be formal, call him ‘the goddamn cat.’ He likes that.”
Will shook his head. “I can never figure out if you’re being serious or not.”
The old man looked up, spearing him with pale blue eyes. “I’m dead serious. The goddamn cat comes when he pleases, leaves when he pleases, and if he wants anything, you damn well give it to him.” Stuffing more egg into his mouth, Will’s grandfather mumbled the rest.
Will wasn’t sure, but it sounded as though he had said, “I don’t want to have to move again.”
The cat soon wandered off, with nary a goodbye, and Will put thoughts of the strange conversation out of his head. The eggs and toast made that fairly easy to do, since they were perfectly cooked. It would have been better if he’d had some of the butter for his toast, but the eggs were so tasty he almost didn’t care. He really is a good cook, despite being nutty.
After breakfast, and the inevitable washing of dishes, they moved on to Will’s literary education. In spite of the fact that Will had only just learned the alphabet, his grandfather insisted he begin trying to puzzle out words from a small book. As if that weren’t enough, the old man occasionally interrupted him with reminders to keep an eye on the candle flame, as though something might happen while he was trying to puzzle out the meaning of the writing.
In fact, the flame did shift and change while he was concentrating. Most of the changes were subtle, but at times, usually when his frustration began to build, it would grow noticeably brighter.
He got so engrossed in his task that he lost track of time, so it was a surprise when his grandfather’s voice broke him out of his reverie. “I’m stepping out. The garden needs some tending.”
The old man was wearing a leather cap with long thongs tied under his chin to keep it in place. Sticking out from the top were two rather large deer antlers. The effect was simultaneously frightening, and ridiculous. “Wha—what?” Will stuttered. “What is that?”
“A hat, obviously,” spat his grandfather. Then he was gone.
It was a strange testimony to the fact that Will had gotten used to such weirdness that he spent no more than a few seconds thinking about it before returning to his study. Or perhaps it was that he genuinely enjoyed trying to figure out the words in front of him. He had never been confronted with a purely mental task before, and he found considerable satisfaction as he sorted out some of the simpler words by sounding out the letters.
Some time later, he was startled when he heard a voice calling his name. “Will!” It was Eric.
Picking up the candle, he stepped outside. The flame became smooth and stopped flickering when his eyes fell on his best friend’s face. “Eric?”
“There you are!” said Eric. “I got worried when your mom said you were living here. Why did she kick you out?”