Page 13

Oh thank the Gods, it’s clear. The pure relief makes me smile. I didn’t ruin everything.
The pajama pants are clean, the bed sheets are clean, nobody has to know.
I almost jump out of my skin when there’s a light tap at my door as I’m making the bed, but I have to believe I’m safe here. Someone trying to hurt me wouldn’t knock on the door.
I open it up a crack and peer out, pulling it the rest of the way when I see Maribel’s smiling face as she holds up a mug of something steaming.
“I saw your light on and thought I’d drop by with a warm drink. It’s herbal tea, but we have coffee or hot chocolate if you’d prefer.”
“Thank you. The tea will be perfect.” Not that I’ve ever had herbal tea before, but I’ve never had coffee or hot chocolate either. I take the offered mug from her with a matching smile and I think I’m still in shock that I’m even here.
Does she know that I almost ruined the lovely new pajamas she let me use? Is it polite to invite her in here with me? Do I go with her, or do we just stand here?
“Come on, hon. I’ve got the fire lit in the living room and plenty of blankets.” As if she’s sensing how uncomfortable and awkward I’m feeling, she winks and tilts her head before turning and walking down the short hall to the stairs.
It’s only five in the morning, according to the digital clock on the bedside table, so I’m surprised anyone else is awake, let alone awake enough for tea and conversation. Maribel came at a good time, though, reminding me that I’m not trapped inside this one room, even if it is a lot more luxurious than I’m used to.
I head down the stairs, bringing my mug of herbal tea with me, and find her in the living room, as she’d said, beneath a blanket on the couch in front of the fireplace. Perching myself on the edge of the cushion beside her isn’t good enough for Maribel, because she tuts playfully and rolls her eyes.
“Sit back and try to get comfortable, hon. This is a safe space, okay?”
That’s difficult to believe, but I so want to. I nod and tuck my feet beneath my ass, sitting in the opposite corner of the couch and clutching my mug.
“Did you manage to get some sleep, at least?” Maribel sips at the drink she picks up from the table beside her.
A twinge of pain shoots through my stomach right through to my lower back and I try not to wince because I don’t want Maribel to think I’m dirty.
“The bed is so soft. Thank you for finding space for me here.” I take a sip of my tea, again hiding my reaction because it’s not very good and I don’t want to appear ungrateful.
“I know we didn’t speak much when you arrived yesterday afternoon, but you look like you’re in pain, hon. Can you tell me about it?” She doesn’t move, doesn’t try to invade my space and check me over without my permission, and she’s not outright asking what the issue is.
“And don’t tell me you’re fine, because I’ve been doing this for more than half my life. I know fine.” Maribel speaks before I even open my mouth to say exactly what she predicted.
“Mari! Mom was sick in her bed again and I already used the spare sheets you gave us on Saturday.” A young boy, who sounds a lot older than he looks, runs into the living room, relaxing a little when he sees Maribel. I’d put him at a similar age to the kid in theNight At The Museummovie. Other than myself, that’s the only kid I’ve ever really known. Andy fromToy Storydoesn’t count.
“Hey, Paxton. Why don’t you make yourself a hot chocolate and sit yourself in front of the fire with Athena for a while. I’ll go and see to your mom, okay?” With the sweetest smile, Maribel puts her mug down and pushes herself up from the sofa, ruffling Paxton’s blonde hair when he nods. He scrunches up his nose in faux-disgust and she laughs as they exit.
She’s not angry that the bedding she provided is messed up…
A few minutes later, the boy bounds back into the room with his own mug in his hand and he sits on the armchair opposite the couch.
“Hi, I’m Paxton. Athena is a nice name. My mom is Kylie, but she’s sick right now. Do you have any kids?” His little light brown eyes are full of so much more wisdom than his age, and his candid curiosity is refreshing. He doesn’t want anything in return for the conversation…
“Hi, Paxton. It’s nice to meet you. You have a nice name too.”
He grins, so wide, it’s catching. “Thanks. Mom said it means peaceful.”
“That’s lovely. And no, I don’t have kids.” I bring my mug to my lips again, but stop myself before I take another sip when I remember that I don’t like it.
I’m suddenly aware of my responses. Short and clipped. I don’t think I like that either. That’s not who I want to be. I havethe chance to be anyone in this moment, with this innocent boy who wants nothing from me but simple conversation. My well-guarded walls could come down for Paxton.
“That’s a shame. I was hoping for someone to play with. Did your husband hit you? My dad hit Mom all the time. He hit me sometimes too, but not as often as Mom. I got him back once and Mom was so proud. That’s when we left and came here. Maribel’s a real nice lady.” He sighs happily, settling back into the armchair and pulling a blanket up over his legs.
The way he speaks is so carefree, like these things are just facts rather than something that should never have happened to him. He’s not afraid of my reaction, and it looks like the talking is making him feel good too.
“Have you been here for long?” I’m purposefully avoiding his question about myhusband, but I don’t want him to think I’m ignoring him.
“About six months. Where did you come from?” He shrugs, as though being in a home for abused women and families is normal.