Woodrow’s sheets had been changed. Now, the color of forestry—a darker shade of green than before, and again, they smelt like it too, like him.
I sat down on the edge of the bed, all bathed with freshly painted nails, dressed in another pair of pajamas that were too tight for comfort. I still hadn't bought anything in my size. I hadn’t been offered. I was just gifted Wynter's hand-me-downs, and I would have been grateful if they even close to fitted.
The short sleeves of green satin squeezed my arms, probably my legs, too. The tight fabric cutting off circulation made it hard to tell.
Woodrow locked the door by wedging his computer chair under the knob. He tested it to see how well it worked and was impressed with the result.
I smiled. The dampness of my hair as it crept down my back, in the form of a single wet droplet, made me shiver. I shifted my legs beneath the sheets, feeling the discomfort of the satin bands cutting into my thighs.
Woodrow saw it. “Do you want to wear something else?” he asked, moving to a chest of drawers near his window.
A tree branch from a giant oak tapped the glass, but it didn't distract him, and it didn't startle Bonny as she hopped out of his backpack for the second time. He’d brought her home with us close to an hour ago, but he was only now bringing her up here. A conversation with his father—the only awake relative—when we first arrived home, had taken more time than he wanted to give, and put him on edge, but he relaxed a little after entering the peacefulness of his room. Surrounded by all the thingsthat meant so much to him—Bonny and me. Woody’s toys had long been pulled from the shelves, tucked into a box and placed into the closet. No replacements sat in their place.
He pulled out a cotton blend tee from dated drawers that groaned. And tossed it to me. The t-shirt fell into my lap, catch not being a sport I was strong at.
“It'll be more comfortable for you.” He smiled, not commenting on the reasons why.
I turned around to change, as did he. Once dressed, I left the discarded button-up shirt and the matching shorts on the floor in a pile, mimicking satin vomit, with their unappealing color.
Woodrow was already in his pajamas when I turned back—a pair of gray sweatpants that matched perfectly with the tones in his eyes. He didn't wear a tee, a vest, anything. Exposed from the hips—where his sweats sagged comfortably—up. I saw the curve of his bones, the sinking of his pale skin. I knew he was skinny; I’d felt his bones jab me with every hug, and I’d seen him like this before. . . but now, he looked thinner again.
And it worried me some.
He caught me looking at his insecurities, so I brought up mine to soften the blow. “I wish my stomach was as flat as yours, maybe then your mother's pjs would fit me better.”
“You're perfect as you are; you don't want to be like her; she’s too skinny. Besides, you look much better in my t-shirt.”
I wasn't perfect. . . but for the first time in so long, I felt comfortable, in clothes and my own skin.
“Skinny girls not your thing?”
He moved to the bed, his clothing from today left behind on the floor, tucked neatly into a makeshift bed for his furry friend, who spun, kicking up the garments before relaxing and gnawing a hole in them.
He didn’t stop her as he turned her way. He didn’t even frown. Her wild behavior put a smile on his lips, and he kept it on his lips as he pulled back the covers and got into bed beside me.
He twisted back my way, unsure how to respond without offending me. “I like your size. You’re not too small. We can’t both be matchsticks.”
I pulled the sheet up to our chests,tucking us in snuggly.
“Can I ask you something?”
The side-eyed glance he gave me as he made himself comfortable said I could ask him anything.Anything.
“Are you well?”
“I know I need to put on weight, but I feel okay in myself.”
“I worry,” I said, with a smile that was mirrored by him. “Can I ask you something else?”
“Sure.”
“When I first got here. . .” I hesitated, my round nails peeling back my cuticles with nerves.
“You can ask me anything,” he told me with words, his accented voice soothing me.
I took a deep breath. “When I first got here, you commented that I wasn’t like the others? Your dad laughed, explaining I was real. What did you mean?”
He paused, saying nothing, his face blank and unreadable.
