it into,” Emme points out, although it’s hard to hear what she’s saying as her mouth is full of pins.
“I don’t even know what that means. Ouch!”
Since my head is being forced to stay in one agonizing position and not move, I can stare straight ahead and see the whole group. It feels strange, with so many missing, as though if I squint enough or turn my head quickly enough I could just get a glimpse of Harry sitting next to Matthias on the couch, remote control in his wrinkled hands. Or if I just concentrate maybe I could catch a blur out of my peripheral vision that would be Meli walking briskly by on her way to the kitchen. But our group now, small though it is, still fills our living space and it’s still a loving, flawed, strange little family of sorts. Bea is talking with my father, who is sipping from a mug, and Luke is unwrapping a lollipop for Joe. Prue is almost asleep on the recliner; she jerks herself awake every couple of minutes when her eyelids begin to droop closed. Israel is putting in the batteries for the new walkie-talkie. It’s started raining heavily outside; though the darkness of evening has fallen and there is almost nothing to be seen behind our drapes and blinds and the poorly lit street. You don’t have to see the drops to know they are big and falling fast and in sheets. If I tune out the noise inside my house, I fancy I can even hear the splashing sound they make as the hit the porch. It’s not a night to be outside and with a start, I think of Rose. If she is out there in that abandoned old house, she’s cold and wet and has to be miserable. I had meant to go back out there today but between work and shopping with Emme and then planning Joe’s impromptu birthday gathering and now the early nightfall of autumn, my chance is lost.
It’s almost as though Luke hears my thoughts. He looks over at me as Emme pins in place what I hope is to be the last of the headache- inducing pins, and gives me a reassuring smile. Almost as though he’s telling me it’s okay, she’s not there, she never was, she’s someplace better and we’ll find her soon. My imagined translations of Luke’s smiles help a little and now that Emme has relinquished the comb, I get up and stretch my legs and go to serve the ice cream. With candles, of course.
********************
That night, after Luke, Emme, Bea, and Joe have all left, Israel goes to the hospital for a couple hours work, and Dad and Prue go to bed, I stand in the kitchen and shake out the very last Nightfall pill into my palm. It’s ridiculous how quickly I’ve gone through this bottle. When was the last time I slept deeply without help and deeply? I know without looking that there are violet colored circles under my eyes. But I also know without aid, I won’t be able to sleep with my family. And I can feel in my bones that we are traveling soon. Now is not the time to chance it and I swallow the last pill before going to bed.
********************
It’s a murky kind of place that I slip into, but it isn’t fully sleep. I remember and I ponder and my brain whirls around in my head, but it isn’t really dreaming that I’m doing either.
I am thinking of being a child again, that same fireplace hearth and of my mother and of Old Babba. I was so little that I could fit very comfortably under the small wooden table that we ate at. I have draped two blankets over the top and fashioned myself a fort of sorts. I have my doll in there and a snack of dried fruit in a little clay pot that I pretended to stir and make into something else. I drank imaginary tea from a thimble that I shared with my doll and taught her not to slurp and to blow on it properly. I played very quietly because I had already been scolded once for being too loud and for bothering my little sister. I heard Old Babba come into our kitchen and Mother greeted her and I pressed my fingers to my lips to keep the groaning sound from coming out and causing me to be scolded again. I