Back in the fall, Bea got an invite to a party that she didn't want to accept, but in true Bea-fashion, she was conflicted. And guilty. And waffling. In the end she decided to go, and she wound up having a great time and met some new people. The following week, she got a call from a guy who had been at the party - she never actually met the guy, because he was leaving as she got there, but he heard her laugh and wanted to meet her. (I know - how damn romantic is that?!) Of course, being Bea, she waffled and conflicted with herself, before acquiescing and going to meet him at - was it a Golden Corral? I can't remember, though I know the GC comes into it and figures prominently for me, seeing as how it gets my vote as Most Likely Place To Contract Anthrax or The Latest Flu. But that's my story, and this is Bea's. Anyway, she went, she met him, she really, REALLY liked him, and they started to date.
He was from Iowa, or one of those states that start with an I and is way the hell up near Canadia, and he was here, tending to his long-time friend, who used to be his girlfriend but not anymore, who was dying from cancer, and he had promised to be there for her. Again, points in his favor, for being the kind of guy who sticks it out with you, though that was their story, his and the Dead Woman's, and only a side note to this, Bea's story. He had planned on coming and staying with his friend, to help her out in the final days, and he did, but he hadn't any point of reference to prepare him for the horror of the final days of cancer, and try as he might to be a stoic tough guy, it was getting to him. I think he turned to Bea for companionship during those days; someone who wasn't hip-deep in death to help him maintain his perspective through it all.
Long story short, it was maybe a month that Bea had known him before his friend passed away. He began to dis-assemble her household, and in that great shuffling of stuff he passed some things on to Bea, one of which was The Dead Woman's Scales.
It's not like Bea has ever had a cordial relationship with a set of scales - seriously, who does? But she began to imagine that the scales were imbued with the spirit of the dead woman, who maybe wasn't so happy to find even a piece of herself in the home of the New Interest In His Life. She could feel the weight of Her presence residing in the scales, when she was standing on them, when she was looking at them, and especially when she was lying in bed next to the Man. When she weighed herself, the scales always read a higher number than any other scale Bea used, even the dreaded gym scales, which were notoriously biased and judgmental. She debated on getting rid of the scales, but decided against it - they were a gift, albeit second-hand, and she didn't want the Man to be offended. They also served their purpose of weighing in, which sent Bea to the gym to work out in a fever of productivity, in hopes of appeasing the scales. Some days the scales were more inclined towards encouragement, and would register several pounds lost, and Bea would soften towards the scales and their intentions, but on other days, the scales were spiteful, snarky even, and she would know that the spirit of the Dead Woman inhabited them still. Earlier this week, when Bea was sick and moping about, pining a bit for the Man, who had to go back to the place that begins with an I, the scales bitchily reminded her that she was more than a few pounds up. Bea again questioned the wisdom of listening to the advice of The Dead Woman's Scales, and secretly plotted their demise.