9
NewYork
February
I woke,as I had the past three mornings, confused and disoriented by my surroundings. Gone was the netting above me, gathered at the center and stretched and tucked around a mattress too thin to hide the three bars that ran perpendicular to my body. Gone was the soft snore of Tilly below me, the sight of Char beside me, her arm thrown above her head as if she were on vacation, and not in the stuffy, humid, too-hot canvas barracks. And Paulette below her, talking in her sleep.
Instead, the ceiling above was a pale blue, the walls sturdy and covered in white wallpaper with tiny blue flowers. The bed was white-painted wood with a curved headboard and footboard, the joints quiet instead of creaking with every move I made, the mattress plush, my body sinking into it.
The air was cold. Too cold.
And it was quiet.
No buzzing of bugs, feet tripping over someone’s bag that didn’t get tucked away properly, people mumbling in their sleep, quiet breathing, loud breathing, the gritty steps of a soldier walking by, someone shouting in the distance, a plane flying overhead...
I sighed and pulled the comforter to my chin, trying to get warm, my body not yet acclimated to the cooler climate, and tried to turn over and pull my legs in, forgetting in my sleepy haze that I was injured.
I shouted as pain ripped through my leg and heard the thunder of footsteps before the door flew open.
“Kate?”
I pried open my eyes and a single tear trickled to my pillow, staring across the room to my aunt’s and uncle’s worried faces.
“Did you try and move it again?” Aunt Victoria asked, entering the room and filling the space with the soft, comforting scent of her perfume. I nodded.
“I keep forgetting,” I said.
She gave me a pained smile and lifted the stack of newspapers I’d scoured the day before, placing them on her lap as she sat carefully on the edge of my bed, her pale blue eyes, a shade darker than mine, taking in every inch of my face.
“Can I get you anything, kiddo?” Uncle Frank asked from where he still stood in the doorway, his tall, well-built frame nearly overwhelming the space, every strand of his dark hair in place, his suit impeccable.
They were something to behold, my aunt and uncle. Something to aspire to. Good-looking, intelligent, informed, kind...and warm. They’d spent their lives sacrificing for others, and it had only made them more empathetic, more understanding, and infinitely wise. They’d opened their home to me, giving me a safe haven to grow and explore in. A place I was accepted in, just for being me. For them, I didn’t need to change. It was something of a revelation when I’d moved in so many years before.
I shook my head and gave him a smile. There was nothing anyone could do. For now, all I could do was wait for time and biology to heal me.
The two of them lingered though, like overprotective parents, and I chuckled.
“I’m fine,” I insisted, just as I had a few days ago when I’d landed at La Guardia Field and saw the two of them watching me as I first got lifted, then wheeled from the plane across the chilly tarmac. “You two are such mother hens,” I’d said.
Aunt Victoria had laughed and bent to kiss the top of my head while Uncle Frank gave my shoulder a squeeze. It had been our ongoing joke since I’d moved in nearly a decade before. She and Uncle Frank had no children, and raising a teenager had been something of a shock to their system, no matter that they’d set the whole thing up and had been expecting me for years.
And yet, no one could be completely prepared when going from no child to a nearly grown child. As thrilled as they were to have me and had planned for me, I was a disruption in their lives. Lucky for them, I was used to my mere existence being a disruption. At least here I was wanted. In my parents’ home, I was a chess piece, brought out and moved around the board as their cunning plans saw fit.
“Well, I won’t ask how you’re feeling,” Aunt Victoria said now. “Clearly, it could be better. Can I get you some food to go with your pain medicine? And perhaps the day’s newspaper?”
She patted the stack on her lap and gave me a rueful smile.
“Yes, please,” I said as she got to her feet, the skirt of her periwinkle blue dress swinging gracefully around her calves.
My aunt, like my mother, was a stunning woman. They had the kind of fragile beauty that made people stop and stare. Though, where my mother’s looks had begun to take on a hardened demeanor as she aged, my aunt’s had only become more charming. Five-eight and five-seven respectively, their pale blond hair and sky-blue eyes, creamy skin and slender figures made them the most sought-after girls when they’d been in school. A year apart, my aunt the oldest by thirteen months, they couldn’t have been more different than night and day. Where my mother loved to enhance her looks and use them to lure people in and gain favors, my aunt barely seemed to notice hers, and always seemed surprised when people were shocked that behind that angelic face was a brain not to be toyed with. Something I’d always admired about her.
We’d had a connection for as long as I could remember. When she’d come for holidays or one of the parties my parents threw, I’d run to her, finding refuge in her arms, my small body seeking solace against her warm one.
“Stop coddling her,” my mother would say, to which my aunt would scoff.
“Children need coddling,” she’d say. “It’s how they learn things like empathy and love.”
But my mother thought those things would make me weak.
