“Thanks for talking with me.”
“Thanks for talking withme,” he counters.
In the morning,Meggie gives Kit a hug and says, “Get home safe.”
“Okay,” he says.
“Okay,” I echo.
Meggie stares at me, gripping the door tightly.
“What are you doing?” Kit asks.
In the void, he repeats, “What is she doing?”
I know what she’s doing—staring at my pupils. “I’m not high,” I snip, which Kit repeats, matching my tone.
“Something about your eyes, Lace.”
My heart lurches. She can tell I’m not me.
She blinks slowly. “Sorry. You sure you’re not on drugs?”
“Positive,” Kit says.
“Fine. I believe you. Text me when you get home.”
Meggie closes her front door as Kit walks down the driveway.
He asks, “Are you okay to go get your car right now, or would you rather steer clear of that place?”
I shrug. “I don’t care. I’m going to write a little.”
“Cool, okay.”
I grasp for my pen and paper so I can go back to writing. It really is the one thing I can focus my mind on that keeps this from all just being terrible. I write about my childhood, trips to amusement parks and New York City, plays in school Meggie forced me to participate in, holidays back when those still seemed magical. I write and I write and I write.
I’m not sure how long I do this, but I have gone through at least ten pages front and back by the time I toss the pen and paper aside.
I sigh. You know what I really want to do? Take a bath. I love baths. Soaking and relaxing in a tub overrun with bubbles and fizzing with salt. It’s been so long since I’ve taken a bath—my apartment doesn’t have one, so I usually only do if I spend the night at my mom’s. I suppose I could try to conjure up a bath. Though, whenever I try to create anything, it’s the mostbasic of basic things, so if I do, it’ll probably be a dirty porcelain tub with hot water. No bubbles, no bath salts. But I’m going to try.
I focus intently and picture the exact kind of bath I want, squeezing my eyes shut as tightly as I can. When I reopen them, I shriek with joy. I did it! Before me is a white tub with large golden claw feet filled to the brim with bubbles. Steam is rising from the tub. There are even a few candles around the rim of it. I sniff. I can’t smell them, but at least they look nice.
I peep around, like Kit may be spying on me from some hidden corner. It doesn’t matter. He’d deny it, but I know he has already seen me naked. Whatever. The man has washed my ass, does it matter if he spies on me naked in my mind? At this point, boundaries with him feel ridiculous.
I strip, and let the discarded clothes puddle at my feet. I lift my leg over the side of the tub, my other leg following shortly after, before I sink into the water. It’s perfectly warm and comfortable. I suppose I have taken enough of these baths out in the real world to remember exactly what they feel like. A good bath is akin to true bliss, in my opinion.
I lean my head back with my eyes closed and breathe in. I almost think I can smell the lavender that normally consumes the air around my baths.
And for the first time since I was trapped in here, my mind relaxes, but stays present. Exactly what I wanted.
Since time is not real in here, I have no idea how long I spend in the bath. It feels like hours. Multiple, wonderful, blissful hours.
So, it surprises me when Kit’s voice rings out, “Knock knock.”
I hardly lift my head to crank open one eye. “Yeah?”
“How are you?”
