“It’s okay, baby. It’s okay, sweetie,” she murmurs, hugging Laurel to her chest, head resting on top of hers. “I’m gonna make it better.”
Oh, it’s already so much better.
“Diaper, then bottle, then some tummy time and stories,” I explain. “And I’ll make some mac and cheese—if that’s not too crazy to eat for a really early breakfast or a super late midnight snack?”
Imogene beams at me, and Laurel lets out a contented coo. “That would be wonderful.”
Chapter Nine: October Thirty-First
October 31st, 2025
Pine Ridge, New York
My room is beautiful. There’s nothing fancy in it, but it’s mine, and I can tell Artie tried to make it look nice.
Laurel is adorable, and she likes me already.
Artie is kind, and even exhausted, he cooks like a god—at least in my opinion.
It’s a day of firsts, but I can’t let on how new all of this is. The luxury of a shower and hanging up my clothes, feeling a slowly dawning relief that Barton won’t burst in to scream or scold. To feel warm and safe. To have a baby to cuddle, one that smiles and gurgles at me as though we are old friends.
It’s paradise.
And I still have the money Artie sent to Carol. Five hundred dollars in cash.
I can buy clothes. That tan-colored makeup, like the one I found in my mother’s trunk. I can get a phone. Maybe a laptop so I can go to classes? There’s even a campus in this town, Artie said. Maybe one day...
If the money isn’t enough for a laptop, I bet I can use computers at the library while Laurel sleeps next to me in her carrier, if I’m allowed to leave the house with her.
I get a dreamy feeling thinking about pushing her in her stroller, taking her to see the ordinary things that happen in atown. She’s only an infant—we can share lots of firsts together. First trip to the library. First time in a store.
First solid food, first tooth...
Almost like a real mother and daughter.
I get giddy thinking about giving her the love I never had, love I learned about on glimpses of shows and pages of books.
Oh, reading to her with her in my lap... I hug myself and then pinch both arms.
It’s not a dream.
“UM. HEY. AROUND NOON, there’s a big Halloween parade in town. The schools are closed. Kids trick-or-treat early around here. Guess it’s just the way they do it in this town. Um.” Artie stands in the doorway of the little dining room, bashfully rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s free. I’ve had a couple hours of sleep. You wanna go?”
“Go?”
Not hide.
“I mean, it’s Halloween. And I—I have to go get some formula.” Artie bites his lip.
There’s a lot that he doesn’t say, and even though I don’t have much experience with others, I think I understand plenty.
Halloween. Laurel and I could be safe in public. He could show me the town. Wants me to see it’s nice—so I won’t leave.
It’s free, because he doesn’t have much. Just says formula, because he probably spent most of his money on getting me here.
I dig in my mother’s old wallet and hold out a bunch of money without counting it. It’s stupid.
I swallow down something sharp in my throat as I push a smile to my lips. Barton and Sarah barely educated me.They let me have old books to keep me quiet, Sarah let me watch television to shut me up—or maybe to show what small kindnesses she could. They let me take online college courses after I saw a commercial and started to beg—but I understand now that it was Sarah’s way of trying to keep me distracted and another piece of Barton’s cruelty, expecting me to fail, be crushed by how incapable I was, and then retreat into the shadows, a silent, huddled creature in my room.
