Plus, the rain was an added bonus. No one liked to take the risk of getting snowed in on vacation.
At one time someone had made this their home. A family member had probably inherited the place and decided they wanted to make a quick buck instead of making it their primary residence. A sardonic smile found my lips. The idea of having a vacation home was so foreign to me as to be laughable.
My whole life I was lucky if I had a bed to sleep in much less a house with stability and security.
That was Lora’s life. I often watched her family as if staring through a window, yearning for a sliver of what they had and suffering a lead brick in my gut because I never would.
Lora had grown up with the stable parents who loved and cherished her. She had the typical upbringing, leaning toward the upper-middle class, and laughter was a common thing in their household.
Sometimes I’d felt like a dirty dog dragged in from the cold when I stayed at Lora’s because as much as I craved that warmth, I never felt like I belonged.
I thought the money would make that feeling go away.
Now, I had no money, no dignity, and no future.
Madame Moirai was the fucking devil and I hated her.
My gaze found a bedside phone, a land-line, a quaint throwback to a different time and I wanted to call Lora, just to hear a friendly voice from someone I knew loved me.
But I didn’t.
I wouldn’t dare, not until I knew it was safe.
Moving to the closet, I opened the double doors and walked inside, swallowing the lump in my throat at the tidy contents, complimentary for the guests, such as extra towels, toiletries, and even a few robes and slippers. I wrapped the thick white robe around me and padded into the bathroom.
I started the shower and stepped inside. As much as I wanted to stand there for hours beneath the spray, I knew I couldn’t. I made quick work of showering, dried off and wrapped the robe back around me. The idea of wearing that raggedy pajama set again on made my teeth grit but that’s all I had. I left the room and did a slow search of the rest of the house, stopping in each of the two other rooms. I checked the closets, looking for anything that I might be able to wear instead.
A thought occurred to me. Even though the house was a rental, sometimes the owners kept personal items in storage. I found the basement door and flipped the light. Dust motes floated in the chilly air. I saw boxes lining the basement wall. I perused the boxes, glad to see black scrawl on each box, detailing what was in each.
I stopped on a box marked ‘Goodwill’ and pulled it down. I popped the top and found a treasure trove of used clothing. I found a few pair of worn jeans and a few college sweatshirts with a stain or two but otherwise in good condition. I took anything that I thought we could use, even finding a few worn-down sneakers.
Closing up the box, I returned it to its place, figuring that since the box was slated for Goodwill, it wasn’t stealing.
Lora used to tell me I had a surprisingly strong moral compass for someone who’d been raised by a morally ambiguous she-demon. If Lora knew what I’d done, that compliment would’ve fallen sidewise and shattered.
I closed my eyes for a long minute, clutching the items to my chest. I would get through this. I would find a way. First things first…I reopened my eyes and climbed the stairs back to the floor level to find Dylan in the shower and Jilly looking for food in the kitchen.
She saw me carrying the lump of clothing and her eyes widened with surprise. “Where did you find those?”
“There’s a Goodwill box in the basement. I thought we might be able to make these work. I eyeballed the sizes so I don’t know if they’ll fit but it’s worth a try.”
“You’re a genius. I never would’ve thought to check the basement. Basements are scary,” she admitted.
I smiled. “I’ve since learned that all the monsters are human. There’s nothing down there that can hurt me.”
Jilly nodded. “You’re right.”
I shook out the clothing and laid it out on the table for her to make the first choice. I didn’t really care what I ended up with. Jilly reached for the Utica College sweatshirt, wasting no time in pulling it over her head. She grabbed a pair of jeans and pulled them on. They were a little big in the waist but they would work.
Dylan appeared, her hair wrapped in a towel, wearing a robe. She saw the clothes and smiled with surprise. “Damn girl, you’re fucking resourceful.” She grabbed a faded black hoodie, dropped the towel and pulled the hoodie over her bare breasts. After what we’d been through modesty was a lost cause. She scooped up the jeans and yanked them on. The denim clung to her hips but they fit. Between Dylan and Jilly, they picked out shoes, leaving me with the left-overs, a Columbia University sweatshirt with a small hole in the armpit, a pair of faded jeans with a thread-bare spot at the knees, and a pair of hiking boots.
It wasn’t a shopping spree at the mall but it was better than putting those hateful pajamas back on. I wanted to burn anything and everything associated with Madame Moirai.
Jilly smiled, happy to wear something else, too. “While you were finding clothes, I found food in the fridge that isn’t spoiled. Who wants some eggs?”
“The caretaker must’ve left some food in the house,” I surmised. “At least that’s what I hope.”
“Yeah, it’ll be a real pisser if someone randomly shows up for their family vacation and finds us camped out eating their grub,” Dylan said.
It was a reminder that we couldn’t stay long.
“We need to find a car,” I said, worried.
Dylan grabbed the milk carton and sniffed it, saying, “Already taken care of.” I looked at Dylan in question. She grinned, answering, “Someone should really give this place five stars on Yelp. They have a little commuter car tucked away in the garage. So thoughtful, don’t you think?”
“Are you kidding me?” I asked, my jaw-dropping.
“Not even a little. We don’t even need to hot-wire it. The keys are in the ignition.”
“Someone feels pretty secure,” I murmured, unable to believe this incredible stroke of luck. “I feel bad about stealing from these people, though. I mean, I know they don’t know how they probably saved our lives but it seems wrong to repay them by eating all their food and stealing their car.”
Dylan rolled her eyes, instantly irritated. “Jesus, Nicole, pick a fucking lane. You can’t seriously be worried about that stupid shit when we’re literally running for our lives. Fuck man, I can’t with you sometimes.” To Jilly she said, “Better not eat all the eggs or Little Miss Dudley Do-Right will have a nervous breakdown.”
Dylan shoved the milk back into the fridge and stalked out of the room.
Jilly bit her lip, worried. “Why does she have to get so mad?”
I shook my head, not interested in psychoanalyzing Dylan. She was a virtual stranger to me. Ordinarily, I would just say, ‘Fuck off’ to someone like Dylan and move on but I didn’t have that luxury. “She’ll come around,” I said. She had to. Even if Dylan hated my guts, we were tied together for the time being. I sensed Dylan’s rage had nothing to do with us but everything to do with what she’d been through and that was something I understood. “I’ll have some eggs if you’re still offering,” I said.
Jilly smiled, relieved to be of use. “I love cooking,” she admitted. “Sometimes I used to dream about going to culinary school but those schools are so expensive. I knew I’d never get there.”
I nodded, understanding. Dreams weren’t cheap. Hope was often more than we could afford. No one ever said to kids like us, “Dream big, the skies the limit!” because it wasn’t true. The reality was that no one expected most of us to rise above our station because most didn’t.