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“How about you?” I ask. “Sleep okay?”
“I was too busy to sleep,” she tells me, stifling a yawn behind her bony hand. “I’ve brought you some things. In case you needed it, I grabbed you a pillow and a blanket,” she adds, pointing at the bundle by her feet, “and I thought you might like a change of clothes. I figure we’re about the same size—”
I’m not really a big girl, but I’m definitely bigger than Carolina. “Uh...”
She winces as she bends low, snagging the backpack by the top handle. “Before I got hooked on faerie food, I mean. These are all from last year. It should fit you.”
I’ll make it work. Anything to get out of the clothes I’ve been wearing for way, way too long. “Thanks. I… I don’t know what to say.”
“You don’t have to say anything, Riley. I told you I’m going to help you. This is helping. Here.”
Setting the backpack between us, Carolina unzips the top and starts pulling stuff out of it. A toothbrush and toothpaste kit. A hairbrush. Deodorant. A bar of soap. Body spray. I try not to take it too personally—I know I smell ripe, and I’m dying for any kind of bath. At first chance, I’m checking to see if there’s a shower. If not, I’ll bathe in the sink if I have to.
She’s brought me three shirts. A pair of jeans and—my feet want to rejoice—some plain white sneakers. And, tucked at the bottom of the backpack, a box of granola bars and two bottles of water.
Then, after it’s empty, she picks up the plastic shopping bag. It’s pretty full.
“There’s underwear in here. It’s new. I stopped on the way back and got you fresh panties and socks. I didn’t know what kind of bra to get, so I got a sports bra. I hope that’s okay.”
It’s more than okay. It’s so freaking thoughtful, I don’t know what to say. So, to keep from saying anything at all, I reach out and grab the box of bars. Tearing open the top, I grab one at random, rip the wrapper off, then start chewing.
Oops. Can’t blubber like an idiot if my mouth is full of a granola bar. Sorry, Carolina.
While her hunger is obvious from the way she watches me chow down, she doesn’t say a damn word about it. She just smiles.
And I know that I’m stuck with her until the prophecy comes true—or I can find somewhere else to hide out at.
Over the next couple of days, I begin to think that neither one of those things is coming true any time soon.
Every night, Carolina leaves as soon as it gets dark, returning early the next morning with her backpack filled with more things that she thinks I can use. By the third morning, I’ve got enough food to last me a couple of weeks, and five changes of clothes. Because she could tell it was bothering me, she took my old clothes with her that second night, washing my hoodie, my slippers, and my jeans.
They feel so much better on my skin once they’re clean.
And even though the water is cold and stinks like rotten eggs as it spits out of the shower head, it’s fucking heaven to wash up in the upstairs bathroom. Carolina carries Rys’s lantern in there so that there’s light for whenever we have to do our business.
I leave it there. Out of sight, out of mind.
Kind of like Rys, too.
You know what’s even better? The freedom to do whatever the hell I want, when I want. I’ve never been able to do that. When I was at Black Pine, everything was routine. Sessions with the psychologists, community group, meetings with my social workers, therapy… every bit of my stay in the asylum was regulated, from light’s out to the food.
Especially the food.
We got three square meals, sure, but, with a few exceptions, it was always hospital food. You don’t like it—you just get used to it. What makes my stay at the Wilkes House with Carolina’s daily visits so great is that, though she brings me things like apples and cheese, she also sneaks in a snack or two.
Like chips.
Jeez, I missed chips.
I pick up the crinkly bag, my mouth drooling at the promise of crunchy, salty goodness inside. “Is this for me?”
Stupid question. Who else would it be for?
Carolina nods. “I thought you might like them.”
I actually do. I don’t know if it was luck or what, but this brand is one of my favorites. I used to pig out on these chips all the time when I lived with the Everetts.
“I’ll save these for later. Thanks.”
