If I'm not careful, the town's going to be afraid of me. Possibly both of us.

I got started at the diner last night, taking orders, cleaning the counter, when Tsu'na came in. I heard her wheeling out the bucket, then everything got quiet. I looked up and saw her staring at everyone staring at her. Then she just ran out. I've seen her run from things, but only in a practical sense. Never from people staring at her. I mean, maybe no one's ever stared at her like that before, so maybe she's never had reason...

At any rate, it ticked me off. These people looked at her like some sort of sideshow. Of course it was upsetting for her. And that was upsetting for me. I slammed my hand down on the counter before I got ahold of myself. I'm glad I didn't break the counter. I haven't a clue how to make formica.

I hadn't turned the music on, so it was dead silent after that. After I got my breathing steady I said, "Closing early. Five minutes."

"But I just got here!" "I didn't get my order yet!" "Can't I finish eating first?"

"Yeah, well, my wife just ran out of here crying because y'all were creepy at her, so I gotta go home and deal with that. Take it to go!"

No one said anything after that, including me. I couldn't manage "Thank you, come again" even once as I wrapped pretzels and pies in napkins and handed them out.

I didn't think she was actually crying, and perhaps I should have planned with her whether to ever paint that picture in people's heads, but I didn't want those people walking out guilt-free. I think a couple of them wanted to whine something like "What did I do?" But none of them did.

I shut the place down and locked up. When I got to the house, the Hartmans were sort of fussing outside the guest room door. I told them what happened; Mrs. Hartman was sympathetic, while Mr. Hartman just looked grim. I like to think they expected better of their fellow townsfolk.

I went in, joined Tsu'na in bed and held her for a while. I could tell from her breathing that she wasn't asleep, but she wasn't talking either. If being held was what she needed, I was only too happy to provide.

I made omelets in the morning. I kinda expected her to stay home, but she put on the beret and headed out to face the town again. I went to work on the shed. I wanted to tag along with her, but I didn't want to suggest she couldn't handle things on her own.

Got some gawkers at the shed...guessing guys wanting to see the catgirl. They didn't stay long when they saw I was alone. They'd all cleared out by lunchtime when Sam came out with bottles.

"Heard about the diner."

"Yeah."

"She okay?"

"Think so, yeah."

We sat on the bench. We drank. We ruminated.

"Small town, ya know."

"I've really only ever heard stories."

"Don't b'lieve the flyin' saucer ones."

"What about the witchcraft ones?"

"That's more Nebraska."

"Huh."

The air was mostly still. Beginning of September, Summer starting to wind down a little, at least according to the weather channel.

"Mighta found you a wiring guy. Don't know him...Dave says he's good."

"Dave?"

"Works at the post office."

"Can this guy do breaker boxes? Don't want to blow your fuses with a window AC."

"I'll ask."

You see this stuff on TV...couple guys on a bench, drinking, trying to find something to say. Especially when one of them has something to say.

"So...you meet Eddie?"

"Dunno. Which one's he?"

"Wears a cat hat alla time?"

"Cat hat?"

"Yeah, a hat that says CAT on it."

"Oh, like those mini-dozers?"

"Yeah. Anyway, he's a vet."

"Army?"

"No, like an animal doctor. Does stuff fer the ranches."

"Sorry, a vet that wears a cat hat?"

"He thinks he's funny."

"...Sure. What about him?"

"He, uh..." Sam scratched his jaw, let his eyes wander over the yard. "...kinda wants to see yer wife's ears."

"So does half the town, I think."

"Yeah...uh...he doesn't think they're real."

"Whaddaya mean?"

"Somethin' 'bout the ear canals an' stuff."

"And he's saying this without having seen them."

"Yeah, well...he wants to see 'em."

"And by 'see' he means, what? Look at? Touch? Poke around in? What would it take for him to know they're real?"

Sam fidgeted. "Dunno."

"My wife lost her shit when people just stared at her. Why the fuck would I let some animal doctor poke around in her ears?"

"...To see if they're really real?"

"Of course they're real. They're attached to her head. She hears with them. How real do they have to be?"

He was looking increasingly uncomfortable. "Eddie says you can't do that with plastic surgery."

"Well, maybe he can't. That's why no one's gonna pay a fuckton of money to an animal doctor from, no offense, here to give it a try."

"You saw it happen?"

"No, she got the work done before I met her. Why?"

He shrugged and studied his bottle.

"I'm sorry...are you accusing my wife of lying to me?"

He made himself look at me. At the guy who'd said he was ex-military. At the guy who could pick up a man with one hand and throw him through a table. At the guy sitting a couple feet away from him holding a cider bottle.

"S'pose not."

"Is this Eddie going to be a problem?"

He stared at me. "Whaddaya mean?"

I realized as soon as I said it that it sounded like something from every TV show ever about murder and organized crime. I sighed, sagged a little, tried to look more tired and worried than menacing. "I mean, she's had crap in the past, she had crap yesterday, she doesn't need any more. Is this guy gonna be bugging her in the bar or wherever?"

Some tension bled out of Sam too. "I can talk to him."

"Thanks." I pressed my bottle against my forehead. "She told me about how it was. I tried to imagine it, but it's not the same as seeing it happen right in front of me..." I closed my eyes, gave it a beat, and looked at Sam. "If this Eddie has any questions, have him come to me first, okay?"

"Sure."

I nodded. "You're a good friend, Sam." I clinked bottles with him. Like every TV show ever about guy chemistry.

We sat a bit longer, finishing our drinks. Sam got up and stretched. "Better get the bar open."

"In time for happy hour?"

He snorted. "Yeah. All them business guys in suits that swarm the place every day."

He stood there, but didn't quite turn away. He hesitated for a moment, then turned back to me. "Can I ask ya somethin'? Tell me if it ain't my business..."

"What?"

"It's...the way she calls you 'Husband' alla time. Ain't nothin' wrong with it, it's just not somethin' I hear much. Is that one o' those things like...ya know..."

"What?"

"...Master?"

I couldn't help but snicker. "You think she's submissive? Hah! Try possessive. That started happening a little after the wedding. She grabs me, she's got this big grin on her face, and she's like, 'Husband!' I'm like, 'Yes, my love?' 'Husband!' 'Yeah...?' 'Husband!' 'What?' 'You are my husband! Mine and no other's!'

"And since I'd, like, just gotten done promising exactly that in the wedding, I was like, '...Okay.'"

A rather wicked grin appeared on Sam's face. "So, it ain't that she's yours...it's that you're hers?"

"I mean...it's kind of the same thing, right?"

"Keep tellin' yerself that, son." He grew a bit more sober. "You take care o' her."

"That's the plan."

Just an overprotective husband. Not a threat. Just a guy.

Just a guy who doesn't know what the town's saying about his wife.