Archive of Our Own

Angela cut through her egg, letting the knife scrape unpleasantly against the plate, causing James to flinch in the booth across from hers. The yolk bled onto her fried potatoes, staining them yellow.

She frowned. She didn’t want to eat, but James had ordered her food, and she was hungry. She would have refused entirely if not for the little girl at his side, dutifully using a red crayon to solve the diner’s paper maze. She’d looked so concerned when she initially refused that she acquiesced, and ordered eggs and potatoes.

“Betcha can’t solve this maze, huh?” Laura smiled, turning to James as she finally reached the center.

“You’re probably right,” he admitted, looking awkward.

Laura nodded, looking satisfied, and took a large bite from her stack of syrup-soaked pancakes topped with whipped cream. A bit of syrup dripped down her chin.

“Napkin?” James said to her, and she rolled her blue eyes, quickly wiping herself off.

“You should eat before it gets cold,” Laura said, between huge bites of food that was more sugar than anything nutritional.

Angela took a bite of her eggs, chewing and swallowing, mechanically. They were like rubber on her tongue, and the whole process felt like a chore.

Laura beamed at her, seemingly happy she had gotten her to eat, “Do you like your eggs?”

Angela shrugged, “They’re fine.”

Laura eyes drooped slightly, “If you don’t like them, you can have some of my pancakes?”

Angela briefly considered what it would be like to consume such a concoction of sugar and syrup, and couldn’t imagine enjoying it. She supposed, if she was eight again, she might. But she’d never had pancakes as a child, certainly not ones topped with whipped cream. “I’m fine with my eggs,” She said, taking another bite as if to prove it.

“Um,” James said, awkwardly, “If you want something else, we can get it. It’s important to, uh, eat food.” He took a sip of his coffee. Next to him was a plate with one uneaten egg and two slices of toast.

“You’re lecturing me, and you haven’t even eaten, yourself,” Angela glared at him.

Laura spun around to face the man next to her, her ponytail nearly coming undone at the sudden moment, eager to join in the criticism, “Ugh! You have to eat, James! If you don’t, we could all end up crashed into a tree because you don’t have the strength to drive! And then we all die, because you’re dumb!”

“I’m eating,” James protested, taking a bite of his toast. He looked slightly hurt, as he always did when Laura insulted him.

Angela rolled her eyes, and took a sip of her own coffee. It was bitter and a little watery. She frowned.

“Would you like some cream or sugar?” James asked, “The coffee here isn’t very good.”

Angela shrugged. She wanted to comment that all coffee tasted the same, but realized that maybe some coffee might taste different, and she didn’t want to come off as stupid or childish. She picked up a small container of shelf-stable creamer, which she squished in her fingers, before peeling the tab, and pouring it into her mug.

The coffee turned a lighter shade of brown, and Angela stirred in a spoonful of sugar. She took another sip, as James seemed to look at her, hopefully.

She blinked, it still wasn’t good, but it was much better like this. The creamer and sugar had cut through the bitterness, making the drink much more comforting. It vaguely reminded her of the tea her mother once made for her when she was sick, long ago.

She didn’t have many memories of her mother, and especially didn’t have many memories of her mother being especially motherly. She had been cold and aloof, as if the children she’d brought into the world were something thrust onto her against her will. Which, Angela would learn later, was likely the case.

But, on that morning, Angela had woken up with a fever, and vomited profusely. Her mother, in a stroke of uncharacteristic kindness, had given her a bath and made her tea, with a splash of milk and sprinkle of sugar. It wasn’t good, it hadn’t been steeped for long enough, but it had made her so happy she gladly drank the whole mug.

“It’s better,” She admitted, feeling the coffee warm her.

“Honestly,” James said, “I’ll drink black coffee, but I do prefer it with a little cream.” He smiled at her, which she did not return.

“Bleh,” Laura interjected, “All coffee is gross! It’s just bean water!”

“Hey!” James said, “Soda is just sugar water, and you like that. “

“That’s cuz sugar is delicious!” Laura shoved another piece of her pancakes into her mouth. She quickly chewed and swallowed, “Beans, however, are gross and shouldn’t be in water.”

James, now apparently self conscious from getting called out, forced himself to eat his scrambled egg. He chewed mechanically, in a way that reminded her of her own eating, when she logically knew she had to, but had no desire to put sustenance into herself.

She figured it was easier to eat some, in the same manner, than to have a conversation on if she was hungry or not, or if she’d like something else. She swallowed the rest of her egg, and dutifully ate several pieces of potatoes, barely registering the flavor.

This whole thing was ridiculous, Angela felt. Mere hours ago, she was planning on ending it in the inferno, when rain had suddenly started, heavy and cold, dousing the flames. It did not feel like a blessing.

But, maybe that was the point. Maybe, the town ate their sins and covered their crimes, so they could never get the relief of punishment, always craving it, but never receiving. They would be forced to be aware they could end up back in that awful town, again.

So, she’d walked, and walked, until she ran into a diner in the middle of nowhere. She’s been too tired to keep going, and even more shocked to see James and Laura at a table.

It was ridiculous, the three of them eating together in a diner, like a mother and her daughters on a Saturday breakfast at a mediocre yet affordable restaurant.

“Do you have some place to stay?” James asked her, his voice soft, “If you want, you can stay with us for a little while.”

Angela said nothing, stirring her potatoes with a fork. He was correct in his assumption, both that she would need a place to stay and would likely need to stay with them, but she hated it.

“Oh!” Laura’s eyes lit up, “You should stay with us, Angela! I don’t want to stay with a stinky man by myself! We could play Pokémon together!”

“Stinky?” James said to himself, sounding hurt. This was ignored by both girls.

Angela blinked, unsure what to say. She didn’t even know what Pokémon was, and wondered if it was another thing everyone else had experienced that she had been excluded from. She opened her mouth, wondering what to respond to, first. “What’s Pokémon?” She asked.

Laura slammed her hands on the table, “You don’t know what Pokémon is?” She sounded aghast.

“I don’t know what Pokémon is, either,” James chimed in.

“Obviously you wouldn’t,” Laura rolled her eyes, “You’re old and also boring.”

“I’m not that old,” he mumbled, defensively.

Laura ignored him, and turned back to Angela, “Pokémon’s a video game, and also a really good cartoon. You catch Pokémon and then you can fight with them, and you try to catch them all.” Laura drew an example on the back of her paper maze: a round, yellow creature with two long ears, a spiky tail, and red cheeks.

“I see,” Angela said, feeling relieved this was not a normal childhood thing she’d have to pretend to know about, but rather something that was popular with kids now. “It looks fun,” She added.

This seemed to satisfy Laura, who smiled, “See! You need me!”

“I guess that settles it,” Angela sighed, not really wanting to argue. It seemed easier to give into Laura’s demands for someone to watch cartoons and play video games with, than to admit she really had nowhere else to go.

After breakfast, they drove to James’s apartment. The drive had been mostly quiet, taken up by Laura explaining the plot of Pokémon to her, which seemed to relieve James as he no longer had to struggle through small talk.

It was late afternoon when they arrived at the apartment complex. The apartment itself was small, and had clearly been set up for a couple to live in, but now was simply lived in by one person. It was disheveled, with jackets and shirts hanging off the kitchen chairs, and dust collecting on the countertops. It was not completely disgusting, just messy, like someone couldn’t be bothered to put things in their proper places anymore.

James explained, as they went in, that he would convert the office room into a second bedroom, and until then, he would sleep on the couch, and they could share his bedroom.

“I’ll, uh, get to work on cleaning things up tomorrow,” he awkwardly ran a hand through his hair.

Laura wasted no time rummaging through James’s belongings, once he left them to their own devices in his bedroom. Angela watched her, with a mixture of curiosity and caution, as she complained there was only boring grown-up things here.

“I’m going to take a shower!” She said, after determining there was nothing of value in the bedroom.

“Okay,” Angela said, not feeling like showering, herself. Once she heard the rush of water, she decided to do her own snooping.

She carefully slid open the door to closet, only to discover it mostly contained rather boring menswear. She frowned, unsure what she’d been expecting to find. She did need clothes to sleep in, and it seemed gross to wear anything owned by Mary. The idea made her skin crawl, like it had ants under it.

She grabbed a pair of clean pajama pants clearly belonging to James, with a red plaid pattern, too long for her own legs. She slipped them on, and pulled the drawstring tight, tying them. She then rolled up pant legs, so they wouldn’t drag.

She quickly removed her sweater, and slipped the top over her head. It was, like the pants, too big, but at least that meant she didn’t have to unbutton it, and she wanted to spend as little time as possible nude. Her hands were dwarfed in the sleeves, and she rolled them up like the pants.

Angela sat on the bed, waiting for Laura to finish her shower. She could hear her humming or singing a tune she did not recognize, and assumed it was from something popular with kids now.

Angela rustled through the bedside table, and pulled out a dog-eared paperback copy of a cheap grocery store novel. It was titled, Betrayed by the Stranger and was illustrated with an imagine of a young woman, with long brown hair and sparkling doe eyes, having her face caressed with a gloved hand. She traced a finger over the spine, which was cracked in several places. She wondered if James had finished reading it, and if he would mind if she read it.

Deciding she didn’t think he’d mind, she opened up the novel and cautiously read the first few chapters. She wasn’t sure if she liked the novel or not. It was, if overly descriptive, easy to read.

It followed a plunky young woman named Evangeline, or Eva, for short. She had a tragic backstory involving the death of her family, and an abusive uncle, but always managed to stay sweet and strong, which made Angela roll her eyes.

Eva, received a letter from a mysterious stranger stating her family had actually been murdered, a shocker to no one, except the characters in the story. Then, the two of them had dubiously consensual sex, which made Angela want to hurl, and if it wasn’t a book belonged to someone else, she may have ripped it up then and there.

But, James would probably be upset if she tore it apart, so instead, she skipped the rest of the sex scene, and continued on with the mediocre mystery. It was a complete mystery to her why James was even reading this to begin with, but maybe it belonged to Mary, and he had been reading it out of boredom. She was aware this was the kind of book popular with women, but she didn’t understand the appeal.

She got approximately five chapters in, before the door to the bathroom opened with a huge rush of steam. Laura stepped out, clad in pink pajamas printed with smiling cartoon rabbits. Being an orphan, she didn’t have a ton of clothing, but did at least have a pair of pajamas, which was more than Angela had.

“Are you ready for bed?” The tiny blond girl asked, her hair still dripping with water.

“I am,” Angela answered, as she quickly shut the book back into the drawer. “You’re still wet, though,” she added.

“I tried to dry it myself,” Laura said, sounding uncharacteristically shy, “but it didn’t get very dry.”

“Does James have a blow dryer?” Angela stood up, and walked to the bathroom. She opened up bathroom cabinet, and found a black plastic hairdryer on the top shelf.

“Here we go!” She said as she picked it up. She plugged it in, and gestured for Laura to come forward.

Laura did, eagerly, and stood in front of Angela, who turned it on with a soft buzz. She giggled as her hair was blown around.

Angela smiled, as she took a glittery purple plastic comb that had been left on the counter, which she was certain belonged to Laura, and ran it through her hair gently, taming any strands becoming messy from warm air.

When they were finished, Laura thanked her, and ran her fingers through her now warm hair. She then scampered to the bed, and dove under the covers, on the opposite side from where Angela had been sitting.

To her surprise, Angela felt something warm bubble under her skin, as she gently got into the other side of the bed. She realized she felt happy, or something close to it. She liked taking care of someone, to be the protector, and not the beaten dog.

At the same time, it was horrifying to see how small Laura was, as the younger girl instinctively snuggled closer for warmth. It was terrifying to think how easy it would be to hurt her.

Angela wondered if she had ever been that small, it seemed impossible. If she had, it would make what had happened all the worse. She felt like she had been born large. She felt like she was permanently a little girl, one that was stretched to fit the body of a woman.

The teenager shook her head to clear her thoughts, and then began mentally counting every breath she took, starting from one. In and out, she kept counting, until her head was full of nothing but numbers. She fell asleep.

Angela woke up, sticky with sweat, early in the morning. The clock next to her read ‘5:45 am.’ Laura was fast asleep next to her, her blond hair spilling over her pillow.

Angela gently shifted her wake, as to not wake Laura, and got up. Her stomach lurched. Something felt wrong, but she didn’t know what, just a deep seated feeling of unrest. Something had to be wrong. It was too quiet. It was too warm. Nothing had happened yet, and something must happen soon, because it didn’t make sense for nothing to be happening.

She stumbled to the bathroom, the pain in her stomach intensifying, like a low ache. Closing the door, she sat on the floor, the tiles cold even through her pajamas.

She didn’t know what to do. She wanted to curl into a ball, curl so tightly in on herself that she vanished. She wanted to run away and never look back. But she couldn’t do either of these, so she sat, and whimpered, leaning her head on edge of the tub.

Several minutes passed, the only sounds being her own breathing and the beating of her own heart. She looked around the room, which was mostly bare. She’d already seen what was in the cabinets, nothing unusual or suspicious to be found, just bathroom supplies and toiletries.

Out of the corner of her eye she spied a wastebasket. It was a small thing, made of woven brown wood. She hadn’t looked through that, yet. Maybe it had some horrible secrets, something that would prove her feelings correct.

She pushed herself forward, sliding across the floor, rather than walking. She tipped the basket over, and several empty toilet paper tubes rolled around the bathroom floor like toy cars.

On top of the basket were some paper towels, smelling lightly of bathroom cleaner. Nestled under them was a magazine, featuring a scantily clad woman in lacy underwear.

Angela picked it up, angry at its existence, and flipped through the pages, as if searching for some hidden evil. What she found was, in all, fairly tame, tamer than the novel had been. It was a collection of bashful-looking women in various states of undress or in skimpy outfits, either looking at each other (such as a pair of French maids, with too short shirts and silky white garters) or at the viewer.

She hated it immensely, yet it wasn’t anything she felt justified in getting angry at, unlike the things her brother read. She was about to toss it back into the trash where it belonged, when another magazine slipped out from the middle of the first one: one with a buff man on the cover.

Angela blinked, her anger and unease morphing into pure confusion. It must have been hidden inside first one, so it, unlike the novel, would certainly belong to James. Why would he have purchased something like this? Why would he have hidden it?

She flipped through the glossy pages. It was a bit more salacious than the one with woman had been, but still not graphic. The men were, like the women, similarly in variously states of undress, though this magazine seemed to lean towards tight leather, rather than frilly dresses.

She pushed the magazine back into the other, and placed them all back into the trash, which she covered again with the paper towels. As she did, she wondered if James was secretly gay. The idea was comforting, even if she hated that it was.

She stumbled back to bed, and fell asleep. She did not dream.

When Angela awoke, Laura had already left for school. The girl had been kind enough to let her continue to sleep while she showed and dressed.

Since she had the house to herself for a moment, she took the opportunity to shower. The water was so hot it made her feel faint, which was how she liked it.

She dried herself, avoiding looking into the mirror as she did so, and dressed. She put on her jeans and tucked an oversized t-shirt she swiped from James’s closet into them. Feeling uncomfortable with her arms exposed, she put on a jean jacket.

She heard the door to the apartment click open, with a soft rustling of shoes being removed. She walked to the kitchen to find James poring himself a mug of coffee. “Hi Angela,” he smiled at her, “I drove Laura to school, and I’ll leave to pick her up this afternoon. Are you hungry?”

“Are you?” She asked, her bare feet making a soft tap as she walked forwards.

“Not really,” James said, and took a drink of his coffee.

“Then, I’m not either,” Angela looked at her feet.

“On second thought, I think I’m a little hungry. Would you like some toast?” James asked as he opened up the bag of multigrain bread on the counter, and took two slices out. He then placed them into the small toaster on the counter. It smelled nice.

“I guess,” Angela responded, after having a moment to think. She wondered if he was really hungry, but decided it was easier not to ask.

Once the toast popped, he placed it on a white plate, and handed it to her. He then put two more pieces in for herself.

She spread both slices with butter and strawberry jam, then sat at the table, and nibbled them, like a cautious mouse. James sat across from her and took a bite.

They sat in silence, the only sound being the chewing of bread, and James drinking coffee. After a moment, Angela decided it there wasn’t a better time to ask, since Laura was at school, “James, are you gay?”

James, paused mid bite, and immediately started choking on bread. “I, what? No?” He said, sounding anxious, the ‘no’ was stated more like a question than a real answer. He looked at her like he was placed on trial, with the wrong answer leading to his execution. “I have, uh, had a wife,” he ended up saying, rather helplessly.

“That doesn’t mean you can’t be gay,” she took a bite of toast.

“I mean, I was attracted to my wife,” James’s face bright red, “Why did you even ask me this?”

“The magazine,” Angela said after swallowing, “The one you hid inside the other magazine.”

“Oh my god,” the color drained from James’s face, “How did you even find that?”

“I needed to make sure you weren’t a creep,” Angela said, simply, “So it was yours?”

James nodded, and then said with some insistence, “I’m attracted to women.”

“But you’re also attracted to men?” She asked him, voice level.

Instead of giving a direct answer, he made a face like he wanted to die, and said, “Does that bother you?”

Angela shrugged, “Not really. If anything, I would feel bad for you because men are terrible.”

James seemed relieved, before catching onto her words, “Does that mean you don’t-“ he stopped himself, words trailing off.

“I don’t want to be with any man,” she shuddered, frowning.

“Does that mean?” He asked, eyes wide and curious, his previous fear seeming to morph into something more curious.

She tilted her head, and tried to picture herself with a woman, doing married things, like laundry and dishes, or going on dinner dates. Would that make her happy, having a person to share your burdens and joys? It didn’t seem too bad, so long as sex was off the table entirely. She couldn’t imagine doing that with anyone, ever. The idea made her want to vomit and die, it felt like acid was being pumped directly into her veins. “I don’t want to sleep with anyone, ever,” she finally settled on.

“That’s fine,” James said, clearly trying to sound supportive. He sounded assured, though she couldn’t tell if it was for himself or her. “You never have to, if you don’t want to.”

“We both know that’s not true,” she said, coldly. And it wasn’t, if you did or not was ultimately the choice of the person with power over you.

He looked hurt, but did not respond, simply ate his toast in silence. She ate hers, as well.

They didn’t speak for several hours after that, either. James went about with trying to rearrange the study room to be a bedroom suitable for two girls, and Angela laid on the couch.

She felt exhausted, despite having slept better than she had in weeks. James either picked up on this, or, alternatively, felt too awkward from their conversation earlier to ask her to help. Either way, she was grateful to be left alone. Talking was exhausting, even talking to James, despite that he was the first person she probably met that she liked.

She flipped through the TV channels. It appeared James and Mary did not have cable, so the choices were limited. The show that was playing when she turned on the TV, was a detective drama, where a stony voiced man in sunglasses explained the grizzly murder of a young woman to his perkier, less jaded partner.

Angela didn’t feel like hearing about violence against women, even fictional ones, so she flipped the channel. The next channel was of a couple yelling at each other over who was at fault in their divorce. The idea of watching that was even more stressful, so she flipped again.

This time, the channel landed on public broadcasting. This time, the show was about antiques being appraised. Various people brought in their family heirlooms to have their material worth made known, with the interesting or notable finds filmed.

While she wasn’t particularly interested in hearing how an old man’s father had saved a very valuable set of china from being thrown away, it was at the very least, watchable. It was quiet, and there was no one getting beaten or murdered. The low, gentle talking lulled her into a state of sleepy contentedness.

After a couple hours, James stumbled back to the kitchen, and began to cook. She could smell toasting butter, as something sizzled in the other room.

Her stomach was, surprisingly, hungry, so she slowly ambled to the kitchen, like a reanimated corpse. James had set two plates with grilled cheese sandwiches, and two bowls of tomato soup.

“It’s just canned tomato soup, so it’s only okay,” James said, apologetically, “That’s why I made grilled cheese to go with it.”

’There’s other kinds of tomato soup?’ Angela wondered to herself, but didn’t say anything. She sat down across from him, and ate a spoonful. It tasted like very standard canned tomato soup, inoffensive, but not particularly delicious. But, it was warm. “Thanks,” she said, after swallowing.

James looked pleased, which was embarrassing, and he continued talking, “So, I still need to get a bunk bed, but otherwise the room has been mostly cleaned off. It’s not the cutest, but the desk can stay. Um, also, I don’t have a lot of food here, so I thought maybe we could order pizza for dinner? Do you like pizza?”

Angela blinked, “Yeah, I like pizza.” She didn’t have strong feelings one way or the other, but it was easier to go along with it than explain she really didn’t care what was for dinner. “Laura will be happy,” she added.

James laughed, “Yeah, she will. What toppings do you like?”

Angela stared, she’d never been asked this before, and never thought to consider she may even have a preference. When her family ordered pizza, they got two, one cheese and one pepperoni. Her father and brother ate the pepperoni and a good portion of the cheese, leaving whatever was left of the cheese for her mother and herself.

Once, when Angela was in elementary school, her class had a pizza party, and everything was eaten up before she could have a slice, except vegetable pizza that had been purchased for the teachers. A sympathetic teacher had given her a slice.

“Olives?” She asked, after having a moment to think.

“Black or green?” James asked her, making a note on a notepad.

“Oh, um, either is good?” She said.

“Gotcha,” James scribbled something down. “Is there anything you don’t like?”

If being asked to include things was a difficult, being asked to exclude things was a nearly impossible task. She wasn’t sure what all they might have, and, furthermore she wouldn’t like. “Um, I think most things are fine?”

James seemed to accept that, but added, “Let me know if you want something else.” He then dipped his sandwich in his soup, and took a bite.

“Okay,” Angela said. She then copied him, curious, like a child, taking a piece of sandwich and dipping it into her soup. She took a bite. It was better together, than apart, which was surprising. She found herself increasingly hungry, and ended up eating up the rest of the meal.

“Thanks, um, for the food,” Angela said, and she stood to take her dishes to the sink.

James ended up finishing not long afterwards. “You’re welcome,” he said, and stood up as well. He took the dishes out of her hands. “Feel free to help yourself to anything in the kitchen,” he added, “There’s not a lot and we really to go shopping, but, you’re welcome to anything.”

“Thank you,” She said.

“Do you want to come with me to pick up Laura? She would be happy to see you,” James placed the dishes in the sink, and turned on the tap. He gently scrubbed off the dishes and placed them into the dishwasher.

Angela frowned. She wondered if James didn’t trust her, if he thought she would do something stupid or harmful, and didn’t want to leave her alone. Part of her wanted to say something, to needle out his true feelings. But, he was also right, despite everything, Laura seemed happy to have her around and would like to see her. She also felt too tired to talk too much, so she simply said, “Sure.”

The drive to Laura’s school was mostly quiet. The sky was grey, but not rainy, and traffic was light. Angela sat in the front passenger seat. She stared at the buildings as they passed various offices, a chain sandwich restaurant, and a small cafe with a ‘Help Wanted - Walk Ins Welcome’ sign taped to the window.

James didn’t seem to know what to say to her, so he turned on the radio to the afternoon news. The newscaster helpfully informed them that there would be a seventy five percent chance of rain tomorrow, and then gave a traffic report. There was a car accident holding up traffic on some street Angela couldn’t mentally place. She wondered if the people involved were okay.

When they arrived at the school, James drove the car into the designated pick-up lane, leading to them waiting behind several other cars. Each car drove, upon gesturing from a woman in a bright orange vest, to the front of the line. They would then gesture to the family’s child, who would be allowed to enter the car, and drive away. The children were standing in little groups based on their class while they waited.

Angela spotted Laura with a class near the middle. A friendly, if tired, looking woman watched over group, as Laura appeared to hold court with a few other little girls. She couldn’t hear what they were saying, but they seemed to be very happily chatting away.

Eventually, their car made its way to the front. James gave his name and ID to a teacher with short hair and glasses, and the Laura was allowed to run to the car.

Laura slammed open the door with so much enthusiasm, it made the car shake. Apparently, taking off on her own and managing to make her way to an entirely new town, had made her a sort of an adventurous hero among her peers. It had been like something out of a preteen novel.

Additionally, some boy named Steven or something similar, had tried to insult one of the girls, and ended up slipping and getting face full of mud at recess.

She was about to start on another elementary school story, when Angela decided to interpret with, “We’re getting pizza for dinner.”

“Pizza?” Laura whipped her head around so fast her blonde ponytail nearly hit Angela in the face. “I want Hawaiian! Thank you, Angela!” She shouted.

“Hey, the pizza was my idea,” James stated, sounding a little hurt.

“I don’t believe you, you’re too lame to have ever think that up!” Laura stuck out her tongue, “I bet you always eat boring stuff when you’re alone, like bran cereal.”

“Bran cereal?” James asked, mildly perplexed.

“It’s the worst cereal,” Laura nodded, “It doesn’t even have marshmallows.”

“Marshmallows don’t make for a very healthy breakfast,” James sighed, “But, I don’t like bran, either. I’d actually rather have marshmallows.”

“I don’t believe you,” Laura eyed him with suspicion. She turned back to Angela. “Do you like Hawaiian pizza?”

Angela fidgeted with her sleeves, “I’ve never had it. What’s on it?” She felt embarrassed.

“It’s pineapples and Canadian bacon,” Laura helpfully informed her, clearly not feeling the same amount of judgment or shame, “And it’s so good, you have to try it!”

“Oh,” Angela blinked, she wasn’t sure what she expected, but not Canadian bacon. After a moment, she added, “Is it from Hawaii?”

“It must be, because it’s got pineapples and it’s in the name,” Laura said confidently.

“It’s actually from Canada,” James explained to them.

“What?” Laura’s jaw dropped, “Canada?”

“Yeah, it was a Greek chef, too, I think. Apparently, he named it after the brand of pineapples he used. Mary and I listened to a history about it on public radio, on a long road trip,” James smiled fondly, his voice soft with affection.

“Did Mary like Hawaiian pizza?” Laura asked, sounding suddenly much softer and shier than what Angela was used to, like she wanted to cling to the memory of a person, but wasn’t sure if she was allowed to. As if talking too much about Mary would cause her memories of her to shatter.

“It was her favorite kind,” James smiled at her through the car mirror, and Laura visibly beamed with happiness. Another connection was granted with her precious person.

“Of course she did,” Laura blushed, “Mary had good taste in everything. Well, except you.”

“You’re probably right,” James said, sounding suddenly and deeply sad.

When they arrived home, James insisted Laura finish her homework before she play video games or watch TV, much to her complaining.

Angela helped her with her math, which made her happy, not only for helping, but because it was a way to earn her keep, outside of other the activities people would typically keep a girl around for.

“Can I please play Pokémon now? Angela has never even seen it!” Laura dragged out the ‘e’ sound in the word please, as she set down her pencil printed with puppy dogs and a pink eraser.

“Did she finish her math?” James asked Angela.

She nodded, “Um, yeah, we finished with the multiplication worksheet.”

“Multiplication sucks, but it’s better than division!” Laura complained.

“It’s important to learn math, even if you don’t like it,” James started to lecture her, but then ended with, “but, you can play your game with Angela.”

“Yay!” Laura gleefully shoved her paper back into her backpack, and ran to James’s bedroom (still currently under a girl takeover until he could procure a bed for the in-progress room), where she’d left the game.

Laura jumped onto the couch and gestured for Angela to join her, which she did. She then handed her gameboy, which was rectangular and made of shiny purple plastic.

Angela held it nervously, like it might crumble to pieces at her touch. She’d seen a gameboy before, her brother had had one, but she’d never been permitted to touch it. He told her she was so stupid she’d likely break it on accident. He shouldn’t have worried. She never wanted to touch anything belonging to him.

“I put the game in already!” Laura helpfully flipped the tiny switch to turn the game on, and the machine flipped to life with an electronic musical note. Angela watched, in mild amazement, at the short animated sequence of an ocean scene, where small clam-like creatures opened and closed their mouths, while the camera panned up to a creature like a Loch Ness monster gracefully swimming atop the water. It then quickly showed several more creatures, before the words Pokémon Silver appeared on the screen. A dragon-like creature soared above the clouds, under them.

Angela pressed start like the game prompted, and suddenly her character, a very small boy wearing a hat, appeared on the screen. He was standing next to some grass and trees.

“So, the game only has one save, and we don’t have two gameboys. If we did, you could have Gold and then we could trade Pokémon!” Laura confidently explained to the older teenager. “Even though we don’t, though, you can still play on my game for a little bit. I’ll show you how.” She swiped the gameboy back, and gave a very brief explanation of what they were supposed to be doing, which Angela was not sure she understood at all.

Still, she didn’t want to disappoint the younger girl, so she took the game back, only to somehow get into a battle with another Pokémon trainer. Laura’s character released a small fiery animal. The other trainer released what looked like a crocodile, which seemed to instantly defeat her.

“Oh no, I got your Pokémon killed,” She tried to shove the gameboy back into her tiny hands. “I’m really sorry. I don’t think I can play this. I’m just messing it up.”

“He didn’t die, he just fainted!” Laura pushed the gameboy back, “And you can still win! You just need to use Oddish, because she’s a grass type.”

Following her instructions, Angela released the little plant named Oddish into battle. And, just like Laura had promised, she was able to easily beat the baby crocodile.

“You did it!” Laura threw her thin arms around her friend, proud of her teaching abilities, “Do you want to keep playing?”

“Um,” Angela said, “Maybe later? You can have a turn, if you want.”

“Pizza will be here in ten!” James yelled from the kitchen, cutting off their gaming session.

With that, both girls hopped up to wash their hands. The hand soap in the bathroom smelled like green apples, and the bottle was printed with small fish, to give the illusion they were swimming.

Angela wondered if this was purchased by Mary, and was almost certain it was. It was a bit too cute for a middle aged man to choose. It was so strange, to be reminded constantly of the ghost of a woman she would never know. She was grateful that no one seemed content on wanting her replaced. No wife or mother brought in to fill her void and strain the already barely meshed together relationship the three of them currently held, one she would certainly be forced out if one were to be brought in. Not that she was competing for either position nor filling it, but she was too old to be a daughter, her own mother made that clear when she’d attempted to tell her what her husband had been doing.

When they exited the bathroom, James was holding two boxes of pizza. He placed them on the table. “One is Hawaiian and the other is sausage and olive. I was considering pepperoni, but that seemed too salty,” he explained while he grabbed three plates.

Laura immediately grabbed a slice of pineapple pizza, and handed the plate to Angela. “You should try it, first!” She smiled, “Since you’ve never had it before.”

“Oh,” Angela said, “It’s okay, since it’s your favorite I wouldn’t want to take it from you.”

Laura frowned at her, “There’s plenty of food! The pizza is for everyone!”

Angela didn’t say anything, and cautiously lifted the pizza to her mouth, taking the smallest bite possible, as if it would bite her back. The sweetness of the pineapples did pair rather nicely with the cheese and tomato sauce. “It’s good!” She said, sounding surprised.

“See!” Laura said, “It’s good! I knew you’d love it! It’s the best kind of pizza!” She seemed happier that Angela enjoyed something she also did, than of the prospect of having it all to herself.

She remembered being so small, and having her brother steal any shared afterschool snacks distributed to the two of them, before her mother left them. Her father never gave either of them food after school. Not that she would’ve ever wanted to eat anything offered by him.

She took another bite of pizza, a larger one this time, and tried to savor it. She swallowed, then took another bite, and another. Next to her, Laura messily devoured a slice, streaking her face with tomato sauce.

“What was your favorite topping?” Laura asked her, after swallowing.

“Oh, uh, I don’t think I have one,” Angela answered, and took a drink of water.

“Then, what’s the kind you would always ask for, when your parents asked?” Laura tilted her head.

“Laura-“ James started to say, but was interrupted.

“It’s fine,” Angela cut him off, “My parents never asked. They just got whatever they wanted.”

“Oh,” Laura’s eyes turned down, and she frowned. “They don’t sound like very nice people,”

“They weren’t,” Angela said, more bluntly than she would’ve liked. How Laura could tell that, Angela wasn’t sure.

Laura looked up at her, eyes soft and kind, “Is that why you’re staying with us now?”

Angela wanted to protest, but didn’t know what to tell her, so she instead just nodded.

“We’ll take care of you,” Laura nodded, as if she were the bigger sister. As if she could even promise that. She grabbed another piece of pizza, and placed it on Angela’s plate.

“Thank you,” Angela said, her voice nearly cracking. She quickly ate the next piece, and it was the best pizza she’d ever had. To change the subject matter entirely, she said, “I’m going to a job application tomorrow.”

“What?” both James and Laura said in unison.

“The cafe down the street has walk-in interviews tomorrow,” She explained, taking another drink of water.

“You don’t need to pay to stay here,” James said.

“I know, but I need to get work if I ever plan on moving. Unless you want to take care of me forever,” Angela said, sounding surprisingly harsh.

“If that’s what you want,” James said, “You could also look into taking some college courses. There’s a community college nearby, and they’ll be opening classes in a couple of months. “

“There’s no point in going to school,” Angela huffed, “I’m not smart and there’s nothing I want to do. It would just be a waste of money that I don’t have.”

James looked at her like she had poured water on his head. “Angela, that’s not true,” he protested.

“Angela,” Laura mumbled, sadly, and it gutted Angela instantly, like she’d be stabbed. She wanted to run way. She was ruining dinner, which had been going so well. Everyone would be better off without her.

Angela stood up, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m going to go.”

“Angela,” James said, “You don’t need to apologize.” He stood up, “You didn’t do anything wrong. You just-“ he paused, struggling for words, “you just don’t need to pay anyone back. We like having you here.”

Laura stood up, too, and wrapped her arms around Angela’s arm, smearing tomato sauce on her sleeve. “You’re family,” she mumbled into her sleeve, “You don’t need to prove anything.”

Angela sat back down. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled, and sat back down.

“You don’t need to be sorry,” James insisted, “No one is upset you want a job, we just don’t think you need to pay us back. If you want a job, please use the money to buy things you want.”

“Okay,” she mumbled. How could she buy things she wanted, when she didn’t even know what those might be? She didn’t even know who she was, let alone what she liked. She was like an empty doll.

Laura seemed to recover from things more easily than anyone, immediately rolling back into her roll with a level of cheerfulness that was almost suspicious, “Do you want to watch a movie after dinner?”

“Sure, but do you even have a movie to watch?” James asked her.

“Uh huh,” Laura nodded, “Alex S. leant me Space Jam, cuz I haven’t seen it yet.”

“I haven’t heard of that one, is it about space?” James asked, as if it didn’t have it in the name.

“Duh, you dumb-dumb!” Laura rolled her eyes. She then took another piece of pizza and placed it on Angela’s plate, intent on feeding her.

Truthfully, Angela wasn’t very hungry anymore, but she didn’t want to disappoint the girl after already nearly ruining dinner, so she took a bite. After swallowing, she said, “I’ve never seen it either,” she paused, “Can, can I watch it with you.”

“Of course you can!” Laura’s eyes widened, “I want to watch it with us! I was inviting you, too!”

“Oh, sorry,” Angela mumbled.

“No!” Laura dragged out the ‘O’ sound, “Don’t say you’re sorry! You don’t need to be sorry!”

“Okay,” Angela mustered up, stopping herself from apologizing again.

“Okay,” James said, “Last call for pizza before I put it away?”

“I’m full,” Angela said, and stood up picking up her plate.

“I’m good, too!” Laura nodded, and hopped up. Angela quickly took her plate as well, and walked them both to the sink. She washed them, as Laura scampered off to wash the pizza sauce off her face.

“Thank you,” James said, as he put the pizza in the fridge.

“It’s nothing,” Angela said, placing the now wet dishes on the grey drying rack next to the sink.

“It’s not,” James said, as if doing the dishes really did matter. She didn’t respond.

They sat down on the couch, and Laura slid the tape into the VCR player. She sat on the right side of the couch, sandwiching Angela between herself and James.

 Space Jam as it turned out, was a sports comedy about basketball star Micheal Jordan teaming up with Bugs Bunny and other Looney Tunes characters to beat aliens in basketball for some reason. Angela didn’t really understand the point of this movie, but Laura seemed to enjoy it enough.

Angela glanced at James, he seemed confused by the entire thing, but seemed to be holding back commentary, lest he attract the ire of Laura. Angela found herself increasingly tired, the warm stupor of sleep seemingly just moments away. She blinked her eyes open and tried to keep concentrating on the cheesy cartoon gags.

Everything was warm. Angela could feel her mother’s leg, cozy against her cheek. She didn’t want to open her eyes. She wanted to snuggle closer to the maternal safety, like a baby rabbit in a den.

“Mama,” she mumbled, still content to keep her eyes shut, as she drifted somewhere between the space of wakefulness and sleep. It was a lovely place to be, somewhere protected, where the worries of the world were unable to reach.

“Mama,” she smiled, and a hand placed itself on her head, gently stroking her hair. She felt herself falling into a deeper sleep, conscious thoughts slipping away.

Then it hit her, her mother wouldn’t do this. She would have shoved her away. Angela jolted awake, like she’d been thrown into cold water.

“You’re not my Mama,” She whispered, feeling sick. She pushed herself up, realizing in horror that she’d fallen asleep on James’s leg.

The TV was off, and Laura had already left. Angela felt her dinner lurch inside of herself, threatening to comeback up. She wanted to run, run so far she wound up anywhere that wasn’t here.

She stood up, stumbling like an injured deer, and nearly fell over as she walked backwards. “I need to get out,” She muttered.

“Angela,” James said as he jumped up after her, “I’m sorry. I just. I didn’t want to wake you up.”

He reached forward, and she swung her body backwards, and yelled, “Don’t!” He retracted his hand, as if it had been placed on a hot stove.

“Angela,” His voice was soft, but he made no effort to get closer to her.

“I’m sorry,” She replied, “I’m so sorry. It’s all my fault. I’m sorry.”

“Hey,” He said, as he very slowly put one foot forward. “You didn’t do anything wrong,” he placed his other foot forward.

“That’s not true,” She shook her head. Instead of heading out the door, like she initially planned, she rushed past James and ran into the master bathroom, passing a peacefully sleeping Laura as she did.

She shut the door as quietly as possible, and ran to the toilet. She opened the lid, disguised by her own reflection, and vomited.

It burned her throat, and made her eyes water. She hated it. And even worse, she was selfishly wasting food by throwing it up. James spent money on this, and Laura gave it to her. They would be so angry with her. They should be angry with her.

She heaved, the acrid smell making her dizzy, but there was nothing left to come up. She stood up, breathing heavily, and wiped the tears from her eyes. She hadn’t realized she was crying.

She turned on the tap and cold water rushed out in a steady stream. She cupped some in her hands, and brought it to her lips, steady pouring it into her mouth. She did not swallow, rather she swished it around, and spat it out.

She opened the drawer and took out her yellow plastic toothbrush. She then took out a tube of toothpaste, and squirted some directly onto the bristles. She gently scrubbed her teeth, filling her mouth with minty bubbles.

She spat, then turned on the tap to wash everything away. At least her mouth tasted like mint and not like acid.

She turned away from the mirror, and stripped. Normally, she would’ve wanted to fold up her clothing, but right now she couldn’t be bothered. She tossed them into a pile on the ground, and pulled on her stolen from James pajamas.

She left the bathroom, and crawled into bed next to Laura, moving so softly as to not disturb her. She shut her eyes, and fell asleep. She had several nightmares, but they were the usual kind of nightmares, and she was used to them.

When Angela woke up, Laura was gone again. She was relieved, as this meant avoiding an uncomfortable conversation, but she was a little somber, because she liked Laura and wanted to see her again.

She made the bed, then scoured the closet for anything she could use for interview clothes. The idea of wearing anything too revealing, like a skirt or dress, even a long one, made her skin crawl. She settled on a button-down white shirt and her jeans. Being as the shirt was James’s, it was too big. Still, it didn’t look too bad tucked in. She could look more professional, but she could also look far less professional.

She showered and washed her hair. She dried herself facing away from the mirror, and then put on the clothes she would wear for the interview. She blowdried her hair, and ensured her hair part was straight and her bangs were neat.

The clothes she threw on the ground yesterday were still there, so she grabbed them, and threw them into the clothes hamper. She then exited the bathroom and made her way to the kitchen.

At the table was a bowl of oatmeal, steam rising softly from the top. It looked surprisingly tasty. Next to it was a note.

She picked it up, and found it was from James addressed to her. It said he would need to return to work after dropping off Laura, so he wouldn’t be back until the afternoon. He mentioned he made her a sandwich for lunch, but to help herself to anything, and that he would order them Chinese takeout for dinner. He wished her good luck on her interview, as well.

She had the urge to crumple the note and throw it away, but resisted. Instead, she picked up a spoon and ate the oatmeal. It was warm and soothed her throat.

After washing her bowl, Angela attempted to make herself useful in the amount of time she had before her interview. She swept the floor, and attempted to clean some minor clutter, frowning at the sheer amount of empty bottles of various types of alcohol.

Apparently, James had been a heavy drinker, which made her nervous. He did seem to be trying to avoid it, though, at least around Laura. She hadn’t actually seen him drink at all.

Proceeding that, she tidied up, and made her way to the cafe. The walk was easy enough, approximately ten minutes, and it was a sunny day. She was nervous, as expected, but she partially enjoyed it, it felt nice to have something else to focus on that wasn’t herself.

The cafe was a small place, but appeared to be clean and well taken care of. The name, “Sugar Spoon Cafe” was written in cursive above the door. She peered through the window of the cafe, and found several people sitting at small tables drinking coffee or tea. A woman sat near the window and nibbled a cinnamon roll while reading a newspaper.

It seemed safe enough. She took a deep breath, and pushed open the door. A little bell above the door chimed, alerting the young woman leaning on the counter to her arrival.

Angela wasn’t the best at estimating ages of strangers, but she realized the girl could only be a couple years older than her at most. She was very pale, in a way that made her come off as a little unhealthy, and bleach blonde hair. She had the looks of a girl who’d been regularly praised for her hair as a young child, only to have it darken with age, and so continued to bleach it back. It was the sort of thing Angela saw, but could never truly comprehend, the desire for attention.

Angela wondered, as she made her way to the counter, if Laura’s hair would darken with age, and if she, too, would be upset by it. She couldn’t imagine she would. She may even like it.

“Excuse me,” Angela asked, her voice shier and softer, than intended, “I wanted to come in for walk-in interview.”

The girl gave her a look that seemed to express being mildly annoyed, but said, “Okay. The manager is in the back, and the last girl quit, so he can probably make time for you.” She stood up, revealing she was actually a few inches taller than Angela, herself, and walked tiredly into a back room behind the counter.

Less than a minute later, she walked back out, “My manager said he’ll see you in back in a few.” She gave her a cold look, “Do you want anything to drink while you wait?” The truth was, she did want something to drink, to sooth her throat and calm her nerves, but she could tell the girl did not like her and did not want her here.

“Could I have a glass of water?” She asked. She would have really liked some tea, but felt this would set the girl off further, and if she wanted to get and keep this job, she would need her to at least tolerate her.

The girl said nothing, poured her a glass of ice water with a lemon wedge. She placed it with a loud thump on the countertop. Angela thanked her, and then sat at a single seat table by a window. The sun’s rays warmed her skin and made her feel a bit better.

She pressed the straw into the lemon, using it to crush the pips and release the juice into the water. She took a deep sip, and tried to think about what she could even say. She was woefully unprepared.

“He’ll see you now,” the girl at the counter said, loudly, but not to the point of yelling.

“Oh! Thank you,” Angela jumped up and made her way behind the counter.
She pushed open the doors, and entered the small back room.

It was even smaller on the inside than it looked, with a few filing cabinets, a wooden desk with a large computer monitor displaying a spreadsheet, and an office chair that looked worn.

On the chair sat a man, obviously the manager. He looked to be approximately the same age as James, but looked less worn out, with his dark brown hair looking freshly cut. He was clean shaven, and smiling, though his smile did not reach his bright blue eyes. Angela disliked him immediately.

“So,” He looked up at her, his eyes glancing up and down her body, before focusing on her eyes, again, “You’re here because you’re interested in a part-time job?”

“Uh, yes, that’s right,” She said. She hated the way he looked at her, like he was assessing her, like she was a cow and each part of her was a piece of meat to hacked off and sold. She wanted to bolt, to turn around and run far away.

But, she couldn’t. She needed this job. And, maybe she was crazy, seeing things. He hadn’t done anything, all he’d done was look at her. You couldn’t run from someone because of the way they looked at you.

“What’s your name, Sweetie?” He asked, his smile like a rubber mask.

“Angela,” she managed to choke out, as every cell in her body was screaming at her to run. The room felt like a cage.

“That’s a beautiful name,” The man scribbled it on a pad of paper in blue ink, “So, Angela. I take it you’ve already met Shannon, right?”

Angela realized Shannon must have been the girl currently running the front, and so she gave a nod.

“Did she tell you much about the position?” He asked.

“She just said you were looking for a part-timer since the last employee quit,” Angela mumbled, feeling like she already was answering wrong.

He laughed, and she jumped back, “Well, I guess she can be a little gruff to newcomers, but she really does have a kind heart. By the way, my name is Allen.”

“Why did she quit?” Angela managed to ask, cutting him off.

The manager stopped smiling, his mouth dropping into a straight line, “Who?”

“The employee who left recently,” Angela could feel sweat on her neck.

“Oh!” He pulled his face into the smile once again, “Well, it really just wasn’t working out, you know? It was a scheduling issue above all else, I’m sure a young girl like yourself knows how rough it can be in school.”

Angela nodded, feeling more and more on edge. If she were a dog, she would have growled, hackles raised.

If Allen noticed her unease, he didn’t indicate it, just continued talking in a voice meant to project warmth and understanding, “Now, I’m not going to make you pretend that working in a cafe is your absolute dream job, but what drew you to us?”

“Oh, um,” Angela struggled to speak, “I saw your sign in window, and I’ve been looking for a part-time job.” She answered, honestly.

He let out a laugh, “I appreciate your honesty. Do you have any relevant experience?”

“I used to be a waitress,” She said.

“Well, that’s somewhat related. Your ability to make customers happy must be on point,” he said, “But you’ll still need to learn how to make various drinks and learn to use the equipment. Do you think that’s something you can do?”

“Yes,” she nodded. She wanted to leave, but didn’t want to provoke him. As long as she just answered the questions, she could leave and pretend this interview never happened.

“I’m sure you can, I can tell you’re a smart girl!” He smiled.

Angela’s skin crawled, and she dug her finger nails into her palm to keep herself from making a too obvious face, to provoke him to too much. Suddenly, she thought of an out, “What availability do you need? I’m a full-time student, so I can’t be available all the time.”

“Honestly,” Allen smirked at her, “I’m pretty open. It’s just been myself and poor Shannon, here! I’m sure she would be happy to get off her feet for a moment, you know? If you have time, you can come in tomorrow. Starting pay is seven fifty an hour. I’ll make sure to have a uniform ready for you. What size of shirt do you wear?” He looked at her, “I’m guessing small, right?”

“I’m not,” Angela said, “I’m not small and I don’t have availability tomorrow.” She turned around, “I need to discuss it with my mom. I have other offers to look into.”

She walked towards the door, when she felt a tight grip on her arm. “Hey, now,” Allen said, “If that’s not enough, I can definitely start you off at eight dollars an hour. I’m really desperate here.” He was standing, now, holding her tightly.

“Let go of me,” Angela said, her voice raising. He did not move. “Let go of me!” She yelled, like a corned cat against a larger predator. He did not let go. She slapped him, the sound reverberated through the small room.

He let go. His white face was streaked with red from her palm and from his own rage. He glared at her, his mask dropped, the wolf ready to devour Little Red Riding Hood.

Shannon pushed open the door, shock and horror plastered on her face. She shoved Angela to the side, causing her to nearly stumble, as she ran to Allen. She pressed her hands to the sides of his face, her own eyes wide.

He smiled at her, his mask back in place, as he slipped his arms around her waist, “I’m okay. We just had a little misunderstanding.”

Shannon opened her mouth, her horror morphing into anger, but before she could say anything, Angela bolted. She ran, haphazardly out the door, through the cafe, and out of the store. She did not bothering to stop, as some of the cafe patrons stared.

She ran, and did not stop running until she came to a pay phone halfway between the cafe and home. She collapsed, crying, on her knees. She heaved, using her hands to brace herself against the metal.

After she stoped crying, she pushed herself up. She dug her in her pockets, and pulled out the change needed for a call. She put them in, and dialed.

“Hello, you have reached the non-emergency line for the Lincoln County Police, what are you reporting, and where is the location?” A perky woman’s voice came through the blue plastic phone.

Angela took a deep breath, and held her voice steady, first giving the location of the cafe, and then saying, “I think, um, the manger of the Sugar Spoon Cafe, Allen, is having an inappropriate relationship with the barista who works there, um, I think her name is Shannon. And I think she’s underage.”

“That’s a very serious accusation, do you have last names for these people?” The woman on the phone asked.

“Oh, um, I don’t, but you could probably look it up?” Angela felt exasperated.

“Okay,” Angela could hear the click of a keyboard in the background, as the woman continued, “And what did he do to her that makes you think that?”

“He was putting his arms around her waist,” Angela said, realizing how little information she actually had, and how stupid the woman on the line must think she was, “And the way he talks to her was weird.”

“Okay,” the woman on the line said, “Did she say anything to you?”

“No,” Angela shook her head, “But, I think she thinks he loves her.”

“Did you actively see anything illegal?” She asked, sounding less concerned by the second. “Did he actively do something to you?”

“No, he didn’t do anything to me, but-” Angela started to say, but was cut off by the dispatcher.

“Look, if he didn’t do anything in front of you, or to you, there’s nothing to report, since nothing illegal has happened,” The woman sounded tired, as if Angela was another person with a casual complaint.

“But, I’m sure, I’m sure it’s going on! Isn’t there some way you can at least write this down, in case something comes up later?” Angela pleaded, desperate and frustrated.

There was a sigh on the line, “Okay, I can take this down. Could I have your name and address, please?” Angela hung up, and walked back to James and Laura’s apartment. In the sky, storm clouds were started to brew, black and grey swirling angrily as if judging humanity.

Once inside, Angela peeled off the clothes she wore, and threw them into the laundry basket, as if they were poisoned and she needed to disinfect them.

She showered, and scrubbed herself pink. She felt like where she’d been touched burned, like being injected with venom.

She dried, and put on more borrowed James pajama pants and an oversized James T-shirt. They smelled like apple scented detergent.

Feeling numb, she sat on the couch, and watched several episodes of a tv show about a teenage girl who fought vampires with her friends. She could barely pay attention, but liked the bravery of the lead character. She wished she could be brave and cheerful like her. Maybe the police would believe someone like her.

James and Laura arrived during a commercial break for toothpaste, and Angela shut off the TV. She got off the couch to meet them, and let out a small surprised oof, as Laura jumped and hugged her.

“Angela!” Laura was happy to see her, which caught her by surprise. She couldn’t understand why, but it did make her feel warm all the same.

“Hello,” She replied, feeling surprisingly shy. She awkwardly placed one arm around the smaller girl.

“We don’t have any homework today!” She cheered, as she let go of the older teenager, “And Stinky Fartface James isn’t gonna be here, but he promised to get us Chinese food! So we can have a girls night! We’ll watch movies! And paint our nails!” She was clearly overjoyed at her plans for tonight.

James made a pained look at being referred to as a ‘Sticky Fartface,’ but ignored in for the sake of Laura’s happiness, “Yeah, uh, unfortunately I got a call this morning from the office. They said I had to work mandatory overtime today due to having missed too much work in the previous few months.” He rubbed the back of his neck, “Um, do you know what you want to eat?”

“Crab rangoons!” Laura cheered and jumped up, her frilly yellow sock-clad feet dancing on the floor like happy stars, “And egg rolls!”

“How about for actual dinner, and not just appetizers?” James asked, as he handed her a paper menu.

Laura quickly scanned the menu, “Honey walnut shrimp, with fried rice!” She nodded with conviction and handed the menu to Angela, who stared at it.

“Um,” Angela said, not totally sure what she wanted, and so, chose something at random, “Singapore noodles?” She briefly wondered what it would like to actually go to Singapore, and also, if like Hawaiian pizza, they weren’t actually from Singapore.

“Okay,” James said, writing their order down on a pad of paper, “What protein would you like?”

“Oh!” Laura threw a hand in the air, “I wanna guess… shrimp? You like shrimp, right?”

She looked so pleased with her own guess, that Angela said, “Yeah, shrimp.” She didn’t have a real preference, and probably would have just gone with chicken, but seeing Laura so happy made her happy, too, and she let out a little smile at her joyful expression at getting it right.

“I knew it!” She beamed, “I know you so well, Angela!” She pulled off her backpack, and unzipped it, “James let me stop by the library earlier, so I picked out some movies!” She pulled out a few VHS tapes, the covers all containing some combination of adventurous looking girls, cute animals, or cute animals with adventurous girls.

“Oh,” James looked at Angela, nervously, like she might bite him or like he might cause her to run far away with the wrong words, “I wanted to ask, how did your interview go?”

“Bad,” Angela answered. It was an understatement, but she did not want to elaborate.

“You’re better than that place,” James smiled at her.

“You shouldn’t act like you care,” Angela grumbled, ignoring the hurt on his face.

“Okay,” James said, cutting the conversation off, his face red, “I really do need to run back to work, but I’ll make sure dinner gets here around six. I lo-“ he cut himself off, “I, I hope you both have fun. Don’t stay up too late, and I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“Which movie should we watch first?” Laura asked, as she held up some video tapes.

“Oh, um, maybe that one?” Angela pointed to a case with a young woman in a yellow dress on staircase. Anastasia was printed on top.

“Sounds good!” Laura nodded, and opened up the plastic case that protected the black VHS tape. She then pushed it into the VHS player.

The TV, upon recognition, began playing the prerecorded ads. “Did you like the movie yesterday?” Laura asked her.

Angela decided to answer honestly, “Not really. I mean, I think I just kind of didn’t get it.”

“It was okay,” Laura nodded, “I liked the parts with Bugs Bunny, but I didn’t get why they added all the real people. It was nice to see something new, though. When I was in the hospital, we watched the same videos over and over. And it was all princess movies, too. And I like some of them, but I got sick of watching them. I just wanted to find a new movie, If that makes sense.”

“Yeah,” Angela said, “I get it. I used to only have princess movies, too. Which was your favorite?”

“Um,” Laura thought for a moment, tilting her head, “I like The Little Mermaid and Aladdin! I don’t like Beaty and the Beast, though. What’s your favorite?”

“I don’t like Beaty and the Beast, either,” Angela agreed thinking about how loud and violent the titular beast was, “My favorite was Cinderella.” She didn’t add that at some point, she felt a bit bitter at the idea of the getting whisked anyway to a happy life. Strangers didn’t care about the violence you faced, and there were no fairies.

Laura nodded, in a way that suggested she could understand Angela completely, despite clearly being too young and protected for that, “That’s a good one. I like movies about girls who do things and go on adventures the most. Um, and animals!”

Because Anastasia was a movie about a girl who did things, and also had animals, Laura loved it immensely. Angela also found herself enjoying it, especially the ending, where the creepy villain crumbled to dust.

As the credits rolled, there was a sharp knock at the door. “Dinner!” Laura shouted, as she scrambled off the couch.

“Remember to wash your hands!” Angela said, as she walked to the door.

She opened it, and took two plastic bags full of hot Chinese food out of the hands of the delivery girl. She was tall, and both her skin and eyes were a deep, rich brown. Her long hair cascaded down her back in neat braids. She smiled at Angela, who, instead of smiling back, blinked and turned red. “Thank you very much!” She managed to spit out, as the girl let out a little giggle and thanked her for ordering.

Angela put the bags on the table, and noticed James had left some papers in the middle of it. She picked them up, and saw a picture of some multicultural students holding schoolbooks and backpacks. It was a college brochure.

She sat it down again, irritated, and decided to simply pretend he hadn’t brought it.

She and Laura ate a surprising amount of food. She hadn’t realized she was hungry, but everything was hot and fresh. Shrimp had turned out to be the best choice for dinner, much better tasting than chicken would have been, she was sure of it.

When they finished, Angela carefully consolidated all the leftovers, putting them in the fridge. Laura threw away the empty styrofoam containers, and grabbed a new movie to watch.

The next movie was about a family of French cats, who were being harassed by a man who felt he deserved the fortune left to them. It seemed realistic to Angela, a man would do this.

“Can you paint my nails?” Laura suddenly asked, fidgeting with her hands. She seemed embarrassed.

“Sure, but do we have nail polish?” Angela asked her.

Laura nodded, “They’re in my backpack.”

Angela unzipped the backpack, and pulled out a small ziplock bag with several small bottles of nail polish. “What color would you like?”

“Umm, green!” Laura said.

Angela nodded, and pulled out a tiny bottle of apple green nail polish. She kneeled in front of her, and gently painted each tiny finger. It was harder than it looked, but she managed to keep the paint mostly contained to the nail.

“It’s so pretty!” Laura said, and held splayed out her hands to dry.

Though it took several minutes, Laura was up as soon as she could, and pulled out a bottle of ballet pink nail polish that had pieces of rainbow glitter. “I’m going to paint yours now!”

Her paint job was much sloppier than Angela’s had been, but she was flattered all the same. “Thank you,” she moved her fingers in the air, watching the light catch on the glitter. It didn’t suit her at all. She loved it. “It’s beautiful,” she said, and she meant it.

The movie ended not long after, with the cats winning, as is the nature of cats. Laura yawned, tiredly, and Angela put her to bed. She stayed in bed with her, until the younger girl fell asleep, then she slipped out.

She felt determined to wait for James to come back, though, she wasn’t entirely certain why. It wasn’t like she loved him. They weren’t family, and they could only barely be considered friends.

Still, she felt a creeping anxiety, like a weed trailing up her insides. Her mother never came back one day. She never said goodbye. She left in the morning, with a purple bruise covered by makeup. She’d taken a last look at Angela, who’d been left bleeding the night before, her knees held tightly together, trying to keep everything inside. Her expression was unreadable.

She left her daughter to her fate of being consumed.

Angela picked up a random book, this one she was certain was Mary’s, about various species of native birds and plants in Maine. She read the chapter about black-capped chickadees, but barely registered the words.

She turned on the tv, keeping the volume low, and watched several episodes sitcom reruns. She couldn’t focus on the characters or story, not that she would have anyway, she was never a fan of sitcoms. They were so fake, it made her uncomfortable.

At one in the morning, there was a click of the door unlocking. Angela shut off the tv, and turned around, watching as James slunk into the hall. He looked exhausted, his hair stuck up in random places, and the way he put weight on his legs made it seem like he’d been slammed into a wall, as if stepping hurt.

“Oh,” James looked at her sheepishly, “I didn’t realize you would still be awake.”

“I needed to make sure you’d come back,” Angela said responded, her voice level, but pricked with ice.

“I would always come home,” James insisted.

Angela gave him a doubtful glare, “Where were you?”

“I got off work really late,” he said, it didn’t sound like a lie, but he was definitely hiding something.

She stood up, and walked towards him, “Were you drinking?”

“I got a drink with dinner, but I didn’t get drunk,” he said, and she suspected that was true. If he had, he’d probably have crashed his car into a ditch. But still, there was something bothering her, something he was definitely hiding.

She noticed a purple bruise on the side of his neck, peeking just barely out of the corner of his shirt. He noticed her stare, and his face turned red. “You slept with someone?” The disgust creeped into her voice, like a poison.

He said nothing, just started at her, with wide, sad eyes. She continued, “You claim to love your Mary, but you hopped on the next available girl as soon as you could. You’re disgusting. You’re like everyone else.” She was angry. She wanted to throw things, to scream.

“It wasn’t, it wasn’t with a girl,” He said, then closed his mouth, as if that changed anything.

She glared, and shoved passed James, causing him to stumble. He caught himself against the wall. “Angela,” he said.

“Don’t!” She yelled, and ran out the door. Rain fell from the sky, so hard and cold, it felt like the clouds themselves were bleeding. It didn’t matter, she let herself get soaked.

She was disguised, with him, with herself, with the world. She screamed at the empty street, and ran to a nearby bridge. It normally didn’t seem too deep, but with the rain how it was right now, Angela imagined she could jump in, and be whisked away.

She held her hands on the railing, the cold metal chilling them to the bone. She looked over. She heard a scream, and turned.

A pink and yellow blur ran towards her, screaming and sobbing. Angela blinked in disbelief. It was Laura. “Angela!” She cried, wrapping her arms around her waist, hot tears and snot rubbed into her shirt. “Where are you going?” She choked, “Please don’t leave me! Everyone always leaves me! My parents, Mary, Eddie, and now you! No one cares enough about me to stay! No one!”

Angela felt her heart shatter. She crumpled, and wrapped her arms around the tiny girl. How could she have been so cruel? She did the same thing her mother had done to her. “I’m so sorry,” she sobbed, “I’m so, so sorry. I won’t leave you. I promise.”

James caught up to them, heaving heavily. “I’m so glad,” he coughed, “I’m so glad you’re okay. Let’s go home.”

Both girls nodded, and Laura allowed herself to be picked up. It was then that Angela noticed she’d left in socks, which were soaked and covered in mud. She must have heard them, and run after her as soon as she left.

Laura buried her face into James’s collar, and shut her eyes.

As soon as they made it home, everyone changed out of their wet clothes, which James threw in the washer, and showered. Thankfully, Laura had another pair of pajamas, and James had more shirts and a pair of sweatpants for Angela to borrow.

The two girls curled up in James’s bed, as he slept on the couch. Angela wrapped her arms around Laura, tightly, telling her she would never leave again, and she was so deeply sorry.

In the morning, Laura was still fast asleep, later than for a school day, but no one could bear to wake her. “I called the school and my job, and told them everyone was down with a stomach bug,” James said, as he poured both of them a mug of coffee. “Mary wasn’t a big coffee snob, but she did always try to make sure we had decent coffee. So, this will at least taste better than what we had at the diner.”

Angela put a splash of cream, and stirred in a spoonful of sugar. She took a sip, “It’s definitely better.”

“Hey,” James said, and he pushed back the sleeve on his arm, “I think. I think I should have told you about this before.” On it was a pale patch of skin, leading from his wrist to under the fabric, past where Angela could see. He took a deep breath and said, “I can’t say it’s. As bad as what you went through, but when I was seventeen, I tried to kill myself. It didn’t work, and I ended up institutionalized until my insurance decided I should be cured.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Angela asked him.

“I just, I don’t want you to feel so alone, I guess?” James said, “Sorry, I probably shouldn’t have said anything.”

She shook her head, “It’s fine. I think, I think I’m glad I know, I don’t know why.” She took another drink of coffee, “Do you regret it? That it failed, I mean.”

“Sometimes,” James admitted, “It was a lot of wasted money, and I feel like my family wasn’t better off afterward. Not that we were close to begin with. But we were less close afterwards.”

“Does it get better?” Angela asked, feeling the sun touch her face through the window, nourishing her like a plant.

“I honestly don’t know,” James said, “But, I think there’s always good things to look forward to, and I think that’s enough. I’m happy I met you, and I’m happy Laura’s here, and I think, even if I’m not happy to be alive, I think that’s enough for me right now.”

Angela nodded, and took another drink. A few minutes passed, she thought of the cafe, and she said, almost a whisper, “James there’s something I need to tell you.”