From Dead to Worse

vaguely. He hadn’t worn clothes in a while, but suddenly he turned red, very nearly all over. “Yes,” he said stiffly. “Yes, I would like some clothes.”
    “Come with me,” I said. The dusk was coming on as I led Bob into the house. Bob was a smallish guy, and I thought a pair of my sweats might fit him. No, Amelia was a little taller, and a clothes donation from her would be only fair. I spotted the basket full of folded clothes on the stairs where Amelia had left it to carry up the next time she went to her room. Lo and behold, there was an old blue sweatshirt and a pair of black sweat pants. I handed the clothes to Bob wordlessly, and he pulled them on with trembling fingers. I flipped through the stack and found a pair of socks that were plain white. He sat down on the couch to pull them on. That was as far as I could go toward clothing him. His feet were larger than mine or Amelia’s, so shoes were out.
    Bob wrapped his arms around himself like he feared he was going to disappear. His dark hair was clinging to his skull. He blinked, and I wondered what had happened to his glasses. I hoped Amelia had stored them somewhere.
    “Bob, can I get you a drink?” I asked.
    “Yes, please,” he said. He seemed to be having a bit of trouble getting his mouth to form the words. His hand moved up to his mouth in a curious gesture, and I realized it was just like my cat Tina’s movement when she had raised her paw to lick it before she used it to groom herself. Bob realized what he was doing and lowered his hand abruptly.
    I thought about bringing him milk in a bowl but decided that would be insulting. I brought him some iced tea instead. He gulped it but made a face.
    “Sorry,” I said. “I should have asked if you like tea.”
    “I do like tea,” he said, and stared at the glass as if he’d just connected tea with the liquid he’d had in his mouth. “I’m just not used to it anymore.”
    Okay, I know this is really awful, but I actually opened my mouth to ask him if he wanted some kibble. Amelia had a bag of 9Lives on the back porch shelf. I bit the inside of my mouth, hard. “What about a sandwich?” I asked. I had no idea what to talk to Bob about. Mice?
    “Sure,” he said. He didn’t seem to know what he wanted to do next.
    So I made him a peanut butter and jelly, and a ham and pickle on whole wheat with mustard. He ate them both, chewing very slowly and carefully. Then he said, “Excuse me,” and got up to find the bathroom. He shut the door behind him, and stayed in there for a long time.
    Amelia and Octavia had come in by the time Bob emerged.
    “I’m so sorry,” Amelia said.
    “Me, too,” Octavia said. She looked older and smaller.
    “You knew all along how to change him?” I tried to keep my voice level and nonjudgmental. “Your failed attempt was a fraud?”
    Octavia nodded. “I was scared if you didn’t need me, I wouldn’t get to visit anymore. I’d have to go stay all day at my niece’s. It’s so much nicer here. I would have said something soon, because my conscience was bothering me something awful, especially since I’m living here.” She shook her gray head from side to side. “I’m a bad woman for letting Bob be a cat for extra days.”
    Amelia was shocked. Obviously, her teacher’s fall from grace was an amazing development to Amelia, clearly overshadowing her own guilt about what she’d done to Bob in the first place. Amelia was definitely a live-in-the-moment kind of person.
    Bob came out of the bathroom. He marched up to us. “I want to go back to my place in New Orleans,” Bob said. “Where the hell are we? How did I get here?”
    Amelia’s face lost all its animation. Octavia looked grim. I quietly left the room. It was going to be very unpleasant, the two women telling Bob about Katrina. I didn’t want to be around while he tried to process that terrible news on top of everything else he was trying to handle.
    I wondered where Bob had lived, if his house or apartment was still standing, if his possessions were somehow intact. If his family was alive. I heard Octavia’s voice rising and falling, and then I heard a terrible silence.

Chapter 21
    The next day I took Bob to Wal-Mart to purchase some clothes. Amelia had pressed some money into Bob’s hand, and the young man had accepted it because he had no choice. He could hardly wait to get away from Amelia. And I couldn’t say as how I blamed him.
    As we drove to town, Bob kept blinking around