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Without the regular showers she had become accustomed to, that made her hair shiny for the first time in her life. Without the option of a bedtime snack or a morning breakfast. Without Paul’s brief company, that was the very brightest spot in her day.
She wouldn’t come back from that loss.
She couldn’t go back to living alone all day and night.
That would break her. Send her to a dark place where light might never—wouldnever—shine again. Her papa spent the last six years living inside that darkness, and she was familiar enough with it to know that she never wanted to take up residence and join him in it. Not from her side of the grave or his.
For tonight at least, she didn’t have that worry.
She opened the bathroom door to words that never failed to make her smile.
“Slapjack?” Paul said, holding up a now-worn deck of cards. A month of nightly playing had bent the edges a bit.
She faked a groan that made him laugh. “We’ve played Slapjack every night this week. What gives?”
“What gives is you’re bad at it, and I like to win.”
She raised an eyebrow in a challenge. “Gin Rummy, it is.”
He smiled, crooked on one side and unfairly cute in a way that twisted her insides. Most senior boys had acne and loud mouths that liked to brag about things they had no business bragging about. Like girls and private things that happened on dates. They had large egos and extra-large muscles, both of which did a poor job hiding major insecurity issues. But none of them looked like Paul, not even close. He was a good two years further along on the development chain than any other boy at school. Girls clamored to get his attention, dreamed of dating him, and whispered about him at the lunch table in that dreamy way girls do when planning out their future wedding.
But for some reason she couldn’t figure out, he had taken to caring about her. Sally, with her chin-length hair that until only a couple months ago was dull and lifeless and almost always dirty. Sally with her out-of-date clothes and old shoes and jagged fingernails attached to rough, calloused hands. Sally with her skinny frame, freckled nose, and un-adorned ears because jewelry cost money she and her papa never had. She had even less of it now, her only source of income being whatever she could sell to the pawn shop. Last week she parted with two silver spoons that once belonged to her mama. They now belonged to the window at C & S Pawn on Main Street, where they gleamed in the morning sun, hoping to catch the eye of a passerby or two.
Sally might try to claim Paul’s attentiveness was simply due to being her neighbor—convenience of proximity and all. But Jack was her neighbor too, and she rarely saw him anymore. Only occasionally when she was out fishing or walking home after dark. Now that he made the football team and ran with the popular crowd at school, Jack didn’t like people seeing them together. He never said that exactly, but he never talked to her at school or spoke to her without looking over his shoulder to find someone better. The only time he looked her in the eye was when Paul was there too, and then he tried to impress her with his extra-long cast or his mama’s homemade fried pies. She sure liked those pies, but now that she’d had time to think about things, she discovered she’d always liked Paul better. If only she’d figured it out sooner before she’d given Jack everything she had to give.
If Paul knew about that, he never mentioned it.
Even better, he never tried to take the same thing for himself, even though they both knew she owed him an awful lot.
She drew another playing card and bit back a smile.
“You’re about to win again, aren’t you?” Paul said.
“What makes you think that?”
“That stupid smile, that’s what. You always make that face right before you lay down your cards.”
She fanned her cards on the floor between them, hating that he was right. “Gin. I win.”
“Dang it, Sally. Tomorrow night we’re going back to Slapjack whether you like it or not.”
She laughed, then slapped a hand over her mouth when they heard a floorboard creaking upstairs. They stared at each other, Paul placing a finger to his lips and another on top of her hand, signaling their need to stay quiet.
“You think they heard me?” she whispered so softly she doubted even he could hear her voice.
He slowly shook his head. But then the unthinkable happened. A woman’s voice called “Paul?” from the top of the stairs. Paul shut off the lamp and shuttled Sally to the sofa with a whispered, “Stay here and go to sleep. I’ll come for you in the morning like usual.” Then he did something he’d never done before. He kissed her forehead, lingering for a moment before pulling back with a wink. She could hardly breathe as she watched his shadowed form take the stairs two at a time.
“Hey, Mom,” his faraway voice casually said when he reached the top.
“What are you doing in the basement?” she asked. “And why was the lamp on?”
“Oh, I was just trying to find my old baseball glove. A kid at school needs to borrow it.” A smooth liar. Normally Sally wouldn’t condone that, but she was grateful right now.
“Okay, you can look again in the morning. Right now, you need to be in bed…” Paul’s mom said right before the door closed. Sally listened to footfalls as they traveled down the hall, and two separate bedroom doors closed, first one and then the other.
Her heart pounded out dread as she lay there in the dark, wondering if tonight was the last night she would spend in this basement. The last night she would play cards before bed and laugh with Paul. The last night she would have a daily shower and access to a working toilet. The last night she wouldn’t spend by herself.
She hated being alone.
