In a Cat’s Eye. Kevin Bergeron

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      Nancy had three locks on her door: a keyhole lock below the door knob, a deadbolt that you could only work from inside the room, and a sliding chain lock. She had them all locked when I knocked on her door. She unlocked the three locks and opened the door and I went in.

      “The hinges are loose, Willy,” she said. She shook the door to show me. “I think the wood might be bad, and it sticks when I try to close it. Can you fix it so that nobody can break in?”

      The truth is that if you know how, you can break into just about anything, but I wasn’t going to tell her that.

      “Sure,” I said. “When I’m done, it’ll be like Fort Knox.”

      It would have taken about ten minutes to tighten the hinges and plane the edge of the door, but I made a big deal out of it to make Nancy feel better, and I was thinking that Elsie might let me slide another week on the rent; and I didn’t mind having an excuse to spend some time around Nancy. I had a set of unused hinges and some extra-long drywall screws in the supply closet, and some old receipts and paper bags from Peavey’s Hardware.

      Nancy watched and we talked some while I worked. I was taking my time. I had the door off and was taking the hinges off when Howie and Francine came in from the street. They were talking as they came up the stairs.

      “Francine, had I only realized what you meant when you said you were going to start keeping a diary, I would never have encouraged you to buy that notebook. You will succeed only in upsetting yourself further.”

      Howie was about fifty-five, I guess. He went to college once. Francine was older than Howie.

      “I’ve been nothing but good,” she said, “and everybody treats me like dirt.”

      They stopped when they came to us, and Francine held up a notebook.

      “I’m keeping book on everything that happens around here,” she said. “I’m going to make sure that it all comes out even.”

      “Willy is fixing my door,” Nancy said.

      Francine didn’t like that Nancy had changed the subject.

      “Always make them work for it, just the way I taught you,” Francine said. “Any girl that’s got what you got don’t ever have to give nothing for free.”

      “Francine,” Howie said.

      “Butt out, Howie,” she said. “Who asked you? Anyhow, this is girl talk.”

      She put her hand on Nancy’s shoulder and whispered in Nancy’s ear, “Has Gladys turned you out yet, honey?”

      “Leave her alone,” I said.

      “Never mind the jailbird,” Francine said.

      “Willy paid his debt to society,” Nancy said. She was holding Mr. Winkley. “He’s fixing my door because he’s a nice guy and he likes to help people.”

      “I can see you don’t need me anymore,” Francine said to Nancy, “now that you have Gladys to teach you; but don’t you ever forget that I’m the one that taught Gladys.”

      Francine always claimed that she had been a prostitute, and she was teaching everybody else how to be a prostitute. She had to believe that she had something that people wanted bad enough that they’d pay her for it. It wasn’t true; nobody had ever wanted her.

      “Lock your front door and make them come in the back,” she said to Nancy. “That’s the way Howie does it.”

      “Francine, I think we should go now,” Howie said.

      “This is all going in the book,” Francine said. She was writing in her book like a cop writing a ticket. Then she slapped the notebook and put it in her handbag and started patting Mr. Winkley, and Nancy handed him over to her. Mr. Winkley was biting Francine’s finger.

      “I never had a baby of my own,” Francine said.

      She walked down the hall holding Mr. Winkley. Then she turned around.

      “Come on, Howie; we’re going now. Howie?”

      “I’ll be along in a minute, Francine.”

      Francine was mad at Howie for not going with her, and she went into her room with Mr. Winkley.

      Nancy swept her floor and Howie stood there watching me work on the door. I knew what he was up to.

      “That looks like a job for two men,” he said. I liked Howie, but I didn’t want him butting in on my job.

      “I don’t think so, Howie,” I said.

      “Many hands make light work.”

      “Nope.”

      “If we work on this together, then I can talk to Elsie and she’ll give us both a little something, in exchange for our effort. I know how to talk to her. We’ll split everything fifty-fifty, right down the middle.”

      “No, Howie. I’m sorry.”

      “You might need me to go to Peavey’s to buy new hardware. Those old hinges look worn out to me.” That Howie would get the money from Elsie, and then instead of buying the hinges, he’d spend it all on beer. I didn’t like him butting in on my job.

      “Okay,” I said. “We’ll split fifty-fifty, on the hinges and anything you can get out of Elsie. We’ll have to plane the edge of the door. There’s a plane up on the third floor, in one of the empty rooms, somewhere. See if you can find it. While you’re doing that, I’ll check and see what we have in the supply closet.”

      “Willy, you’re a true friend,” he said, and hurried upstairs to the third floor.

      I went to the supply closet where I had the set of hinges and receipts I told you about. I cleaned the hinges with Brasso so they’d look like new, keeping an eye on the stairway where Howie had gone up. I put them in the Peavey’s bag along with a receipt for two dollars and ninety-nine cents, and dropped the bag out a window. Then I went down and told Elsie that I needed three dollars to go out and buy new hinges.

      She gave me three dollars and I was gone for maybe an hour or so, and then I came in with the bag that I threw out the window.

      “Have you been drinking?” she said.

      “No,” I said. I showed her the hinges and gave her the receipt and a penny; but I felt guilty, cheating Howie like that.

      When I went up to Nancy’s room Howie was sitting on the floor in the hall, pretending to be working on the door. He’d probably come out when he heard me coming up the stairs. He had a bottle of beer, and that made me feel better, because I’d meant to save him some of the Thunderbird I’d bought, but I’d ended up drinking the whole bottle sitting on the railroad tracks in the sun. I figured the Colonel must have given him the beer, because it was the Colonel’s brand. I asked Howie where Nancy was and he said that he’d been talking to the Colonel in the Colonel’s room, and when he came out, she was gone. Then he saw the paper bag from Peavey’s in my hand.

      “You have hurt me deeply, Willy,” he said. “I trusted you, and you have betrayed that trust.”

      “If you had gotten the money from Elsie you would have gone out and spent it all just like I did. Anyway, you’re the one who showed me how to save the old receipts for pretending to buy things we already have.”

      “Just because I do it, that doesn’t make it right, does