“I have need for nothing,” Stella replied. “I wrote that in a moment of weakness.”
Stella paused and took a step closer to me. She stood on her toes, leaned toward me, her mouth only inches from my ear. When her warm breath slipped over my neck, the blood coursed through my body. “Be mindful of what you say,” Stella whispered. “The trees have ears here.”
She fell back on her heels, and her brow furrowed. “You smell atrocious, like you slept at the bottom of a Dumpster behind that greasy spoon of yours.”
“I’m sor—”
Her dark eyes narrowed, and she drew in a breath, ready to scold me again.
“This is what work smells like,” I quickly said before she could say anything.
“Tsk, tsk, poor Jack. Why someone would purposely subject themselves to daily filth is beyond me.”
“I like the people there. They’re friendly. Mr. Krendal takes care of me. He takes care of Auntie Jo, too. They’re like an extended family,” I said.
“Your aunt is still alive, then?” Stella asked. She had begun walking again, following the cobblestone path.
“She is.”
“She is what?”
“My Auntie Jo, she’s still alive.”
“Not well, though, I presume?”
“She has cancer. It’s advanced. I’m not sure how much longer she’ll be around.”
“Perhaps she will join your parents soon. I presume they are still dead?”
I didn't answer.
With each step, the scent of vanilla wafted over to me, and I found myself edging closer to this girl. Her dress brushed my pant leg as we walked. I looked behind us, back toward the house, and found Ms. Oliver also on the cobblestone path about a hundred feet behind. Our eyes met briefly, and I turned back around.
“Why do they all follow you around like this? That Oliver woman is behind us.”
“What else are they supposed to do with their time?”
“It seems weird.”
“Perhaps to you, but for me, it would be odd not to have them follow me. I cannot remember a moment where Ms. Oliver wasn’t at arm’s reach.”
“What about all these other people? Why are they here?”
“Where else should they be?”
I stopped. I’d had enough of this.
Stella went a few more steps, and then she stopped, too, and turned back to me. “What is it, Jack?”
“Why am I here? I try to talk to you, and you answer in riddles. It makes my head hurt. I’ve known you for half of my life, but I feel like I don’t really know you at all. You brought me here. Or more accurately,hadme brought here. You obviously wanted to see me. Tell me why. We’ve been doing this for eight years, and I don’t understand what it is, whatthisis.”
She looked to the ground, shuffled her feet, a pout on her lips. “I didn’t realize I had become such a burden on you.”
“You are not a burden.”
“Perhaps you should forget me.”
“I’m not so sure I can.”
