At least for now.
Once the kitchen is somewhat clean, I twist the faucet. Water sputters for a second before a steady stream flows out.
“Thank God,” I mutter under my breath. At least something’s working in this place.
I pull out a can of beans and the apples I grabbed earlier. “Okay, kiddo, we’ve got beans and apples.”
I hold the apple out, giving Elijah a smile. His eyes scan it with curiosity, but instead of grabbing it right away, he looks up at me and says, “Okay, let’s wash our hands first.”
I can’t help the small chuckle that escapes me.
Leave it to him to remember the little things, even now.
“Good idea, baby,” I say, setting the apple down for a second and taking his hand. I help him up from the floor, leading him over to the sink. The water runs clear—thank God—so I wash my hands first, then help Elijah get his hands under the stream. He mimics me, his small fingers rubbing against each other like he’s focused on doing it just right.
I grab a towel, drying his hands gently as he stands on his tiptoes, looking up at me with those big, innocent eyes that always manage to punch a hole through whatever tough shell I’m trying to keep up. I’m halfway through drying his hands when he stops and looks at me, his face serious.
“Mommy… why are we here?”
The question stops me cold.
Fuck. I can feel my heart slam into my chest.
What do I say? The truth? That we’re running from the enemy? And the worst part? The enemy is his fucking father.
I can’t tell him that.
Well, I don’t even know what Leonid would do if he found us.
What if he finds out Elijah’s his son?
My hands pause for a moment before I force myself to keep moving, wiping the towel over his tiny fingers like everything’s perfectly normal.
“We’re just on a little adventure, baby. Just like the ones I told you about. Remember how I said Pikachu has to be brave sometimes, even when things get scary?”
He nods slowly.
“Well, we’re being brave, too. Just for a little while, okay? We’re gonna be just fine.”
He doesn’t say anything, but he presses his face into Pikachu’s fur. My throat tightens.
I’ve gotta protect him. No matter what.
“Alright, let’s eat up.”
I grab the apple from the counter, cutting it into slices while Elijah climbs back onto the chair.
“Here you go,” I say, placing a plate in front of him.
He nods, picking up a slice and munching on it slowly. His mood has lightened a little, but I can still see the worry lingering in his eyes. It’s been there ever since we had to leave home in such a rush. He’s smart, smarter than any 4-year-old should have to be, and he knows something’s wrong, even if he can’t put it into words yet.
He’s trying to distract himself by talking to Pikachu, giving the stuffed toy little pep talks like, “Don’t worry, Pikachu, we’re safe here. Mommy says so.” It breaks my heart, hearing him reassure his toy because he doesn’t know how to reassure himself.
I flick on the lantern as the last bit of light fades outside, the shadows creeping up the walls like unwanted guests. Elijah curls up on the old couch we’d managed to clean earlier, still clutching Pikachu like it’s his lifeline. The couch was covered in dust, cobwebs clinging to its legs like it hadn’t seen life in years. After pulling off the ragged old cover, I’d found a thick woolen blanket from a closet in the back, one that miraculously wasn’t too moth-eaten, and laid it down for him.
Clean enough.
I lean in, brushing his curls out of his face, kissing his forehead.
