“You can live anywhere.”
“It’s more than pickin’ out a place.” I shake my head. “It’s… where do I belong? It’s… who am I now? I look in a mirror and I don’t know.”
His thumb slides across my jaw. “Want to know what I see?”
I’m almost afraid of the answer, but I nod.
“I see a different Edie from the one I knew before you walked out onto the terrace that night at Hawthorne. You’re better. Better to your family, especially a little red-haired girl who just wants to love your dog. You’re much stronger than you think, and it doesn’t come at the expense of making others feel weak. There aren’t motives behind everything you do, and your generosity doesn’t come with a price. You might feel lost right now, but you’re smart and will figure out your life.
“When I look into your blue eyes, I see every emotion you’re feeling. Nothing is hidden. Everything from lighting up when you think you’re funny to squinting when you’re annoyed. It’s all there, anger and joy and lust. The last two are a real favorite of mine, especially at the same time.
“You’re not the woman I knew; you’re the woman I want to know. I want to take my time with you. I don’t want to rush and miss anything.” He pulls me close and presses his forehead to mine. “If any of that appeals to you, let me know.”
I let him know by taking his hand and leading him upstairs. I have him spend the night so he can use his bedroom tricks to take my mind off my problems. It works until the next morning when he’s gone and I’m back to racking my brain for a way to help with Momma and Daddy’s debt. They borrowed money to bury me and I’m not even dead. I can’t just send them a check or cash or wire money into their bank account. I can’t even give them the red F-150 now sitting in a storage unit in Midland. I don’t know what to do, and I don’t have the energy to get dressed. I lie around in my pajamas feeling horrible and helpless to do anything.
The solution to my problem shows up later in the residents’ lobby just as Magnus and I return from our walk. “Katrina,” I say, taken aback. I didn’t remember making plans with her or I would have changed out of my pajamas. I look like crap, but I’ve seen her look worse and I invite her up anyway.
She’s dressed in black like always and takes her coat and knit hat off while she turns in a slow circle and looks around at the high ceilings and window. Magnus keeps an eye on her. He can spot when people aren’t right like he did me. “Wow. I didn’t know you were this rich.”
“Neither did I.” She laughs and I hang her coat with mine and Magnus’s in the usual place. “Are you in school?”
“Yeah, but I’m on spring break until March seventh.” She looks at me and I notice her eyes are clear like the last time I saw her, but I wouldn’t say she looks totally sane, either. “Did you go out in pajamas or am I missing something here?” she asks.
I look down at my blue flannel pj’s with pink sprinkle doughnuts. “You caught me,” I answer as I kick off my boots.
“It’s three.”
“So?”
“So that’s not good.”
“Are you here to judge me?”
“No. I came so you could braid my hair like you used to.”
Of course she naturally assumes I’m dying to give her a custom style. “Is this for a special occasion?”
“No. Does there have to be a special occasion?”
“No, but you know the rules and didn’t make an appointment.”
“There isn’t anyone lined up outside your door.”
I sigh, and she and Magnus follow me upstairs through my bedroom and into the bathroom.
“This is fan-cy. I’ve never seen chandeliers in a bathroom before.”
“There’s one in the closet, too.”
While she’s turning her head to look around, I look at the condition of her split ends. “The weather has dried out your hair. You need two inches trimmed off the bottom.”
“Okay.” She sits at the vanity, assuming I’m dying to give her a custom cut, too. I’m not, but I find a water bottle and the red zipper bag from Livingston. The scissors I find in a cupboard aren’t cutting shears, but they’re sharp and will do the job. As I fill the water bottle, Magnus stands on his back legs, scratching at a drawer like he’s trying to climb. I lift him so he can sit on the top of the vanity like a gargoyle and stare at Katrina.
“Is he going to bite me?”
I screw on the top of the bottle and set it next to my watchdog. “Well… probably not.”
“Is he crazy?”