When it was ready, I poured us each a cup.
'Didn't you leave some Irish whisky here last year?' she said.
'Yes.'
'I'll have some in my coffee,' she said.
I found the whisky in the cabinet above the refrigerator and poured some into her cup.
'Thank you,' she said.
I put some milk and sugar in my coffee and leaned my hips on the counter next to the refrigerator. Brad came into the kitchen, barefoot, wearing a tee shirt and a pair of jeans. The tee shirt hung loose outside the jeans.
'I smell java,' he said.
'In the pot on the counter,' I said.
He poured some.
'Milk and sugar?'
'Nope, I like it black as the devil's soul, and lots of it,' he said. 'These are your duds, I assume.'
'Yes.'
'Pants are a tad short,' he said.
'Tee shirt's kind of loose around the chest and arms too,' I said.
Susan smiled and sipped her coffee.
'Any chow?' he said.
'There's some eggs in the refrigerator,' Susan said.
'Suze, come on, I don't really cook very well.'
'Me either.'
'No? I figured you'd learned by now.'
'Never did,' Susan said. 'Never wanted to.'
'Damn,' Brad said. 'I'm really hungry.'
Neither of us said anything. Brad opened a few cabinet doors randomly and found some rye bread, and a half jar of peanut butter.
'For shame,' I said to Susan.
'Only keep it for guests,' she said to me.
'You don't have any white bread, do you?'
'No.'
'Jelly?'
'Refrigerator.'
He found some boysenberry jam in the refrigerator and looked at it the way Macbeth had looked at the spot.
'What kind is this?'
'Boysenberry,' Susan said.
'Well, it'll have to do,' Brad said. 'Got something to make a sandwich?'
'Knife is in the left drawer in front of you,' Susan said.
She took another sip of her coffee. Her face was contemplative. She looked as if she had just awakened from a deep refreshing sleep and was waiting to see what the day would bring. Brad made an amateurish looking peanut butter and jelly sandwich and ate it rapidly, hunched over the counter with swallows of coffee in between bites. As soon as he had finished, he made another one. This one was no better looking but it lasted longer. Susan and I were quiet while he ate.
'Sorry to be stowing it away like this,' Brad said, 'but I am really famished.'
He finished his second sandwich and went to the sink to rinse his hands and face. I could see that he had a small gun in his right hip pocket. I took mine off my hip and put it on the counter top and rested my right hand on it, shielded discretely by the refrigerator. Brad dried his hands and face on a paper towel and refilled his cup and came to the counter where we sat and leaned his forearms on it.
'Wow,' he said. 'Nothing like getting inside a shower and outside of some strong Joe to make you feel brand new.'
'So where have you been?' Susan said.
'Round and about,' Brad said. 'I ran out of money three-four days ago.'
'And you came to me,' Susan said. 'Do you think I'll give you money?'
'I had nowhere else to go, Suzie-Q.'
'Why didn't you go home?' Susan said.
