I nod my head and push past the shelves of bedclothes and sheets. Large boxes stacked on top of each other sit along the back wall. I pull down one box and cough as the dust particles float into my nose and mouth. My fingers slip off the edges, causing it to land on my right foot. Dang it. The top flops open, and I peer inside.
Jewelry, magazines, and old CDs rattle around as I sift through them. A baby rattle makes me pause. These were someone’s prized possessions at one time, but I let the thought go as quickly as it arises, knowing I’m going to use them for a good purpose.
The next box contains more of the same, and I let out a long sigh of exasperation. Alyssa’s probably wondering where I am, and I haven’t found anything to read her yet. Then I see the stack of books at the bottom. I delay my excitement until I lift them out. Their tattered bindings make them fragile, and their browned pages curl at the edges, but I found them!
One by one, I read the titles and settle upon The Last Silk Dress by Ann Rinaldi. It’s the only one that seems appropriate for a thirteen-year-old, and the cover even has an elegant young woman on it.
I put the rest of the belongings back in the boxes and stack them together. Then I skip-walk down the hall and back to her room with a huge smile on my face.
“What are you all happy about?” she asks.
“I got you something.” Proudly, I pull the book out from behind my back and place it on her lap. “It’s the only one I could find that was appropriate for your age.”
“What? Are you kidding me? I’m dying and you’re worried about corrupting me?”
I cock my head. “Do you want me to read it or not?”
She nods enthusiastically and then lays her head back on my flat, measly pillow. I sit in the chair and open the book to the first page. Ironically, it begins with a fourteen-year-old girl and her father at the beginning of the Civil War. I find myself and Alyssa drawn to her vivacious spirit and her close family connections. Will Susan side with the confederacy or with the abolitionists? I remember reading about the Civil War in school, but this book begins to bring it alive for me.
After thirty minutes, Alyssa falls asleep and I fold the page corner to keep our spot. This has been the best day in the Hole since I arrived. I tuck the book under her mattress and step into the hallway. Sutton slams into me while I walk, deep in thought.
“I’m sorry. I wasn’t paying attention,” he says.
“It’s okay, neither was I.”
“Did she like the book?”
“Very much so. Thank you for everything.”
He tucks his pen into his coat pocket and straightens his glasses. “Good. I’m glad,” he says, his concentration fixed elsewhere.
“Okay, well, I have to meet Cole. It’s almost seven.”
Sutton glances at my face, nods, and rushes away without another word.
Of course Amber’s talking and drooling over Cole.
How does she get out of work all the time?
Her fingernails newly painted, she brushes her hand against his and bats her eyelashes to gather his attention.
“Well, hello there. Seems like you’ve had a cakewalk day,” she says to me.
I scrunch my forehead and retort, “Not as easy of a day as you’ve probably had.”
“I’d watch my mouth if I were you.” She sneers. She places her hands on her hips and raises her over-plucked eyebrows in a challenge. I don’t know what I did to earn her nastiness, but she instantly hated me, even before I ever talked to her.
“That’s enough, you two. Let’s go.” Cole shifts his posture and beckons me to follow him to the staircase.
“See ya,” Amber calls to him.
He swings the door open and it almost smacks me in the face as I pass through behind him. My good feelings about reading to Alyssa are gone as I think about spending another night alone in my dark, damp room.
CHAPTER 7
Prostitutes, three of them, rush into the hospital, screaming about someone who’s hurt. I can’t turn my eyes away from them as the staff tries to herd them back to the front waiting area.
“Stay here,” one nurse tells them, “or you’ll have to leave.”
All three of them lean against the wall, dressed in promiscuous clothing that sticks to their slim figures and wearing chunky high heels. Tears track down one of their faces. She looks familiar. One of the girls from Cole’s party the other night. Her dirty blond hair hangs in tangles, matted against her back from the rain. The heavy, black charcoal lining her brown eyes drips down her cheekbones. Her nervous fingers fiddle with a small handbag. I try to ignore her brand to keep from judging her because I don’t want to treat her the same way I’ve been treated. My hand moves to my neck self-consciously just thinking about it. Looking up, she locks eyes with me and then nods like she remembers who I am.
I quickly nod back and walk upstairs with an overflowing container of ratty, washed blankets. The undependable elevator is stuck on floor three, so I huff my way up to my wing. My breathing comes heavy and labored under the weight, but I welcome the break from reading to Alyssa. I’m not used to reading so much and my eyes hurt. Guards pass, but I duck behind the height of the blankets, angling them in front of my face.
Just keep walking.
Fortunately, the stairs teem with people today. The eighth floor comes as a reprieve and I drop the basket into Alyssa’s room to keep her company while folding it. Her solemn expression lifts and a smile crosses her face like she’s bursting at the seams to tell me something.
“Well?” I ask, waiting.
“What?” She smiles.
“Spit it out.” I flip open the first blanket and begin matching the corners.
She pushes herself up and laughs. “Okay, so I read ahead a little…”
I cock my head sideways, giving her a knowing look. “And?”
“Her brother Lucien, well, he’s against owning slaves, so the family shuns him. BUT, it just complicates things more because the Confederates surround Charleston and…”
“Whoa, slow down! How far ahead did you read?” I drop the blanket to my lap.
She grows quiet and then mumbles, “The whole thing.”
“You read all of it? That’s a three-hundred-some-page book!” My jaw drops.
“Well, I liked it and felt good enough to finish… Hope you’re not mad.” Her hands clutch the book protectively as she pleads with her eyes.
“I’m not mad at all, just surprised. Well, glad actually.” I finish folding the blanket and place it on top of another. “I’m not sure if Sutton has any more—”
“It’s okay. It was really good and I’ll probably read it again, anyway.” She lays back, places the book on her chest with her hands over it, and closes her eyes. “The confusion and the violence remind me a lot of the Hole, except she has family…”
Her soft words cause me to pause and let my thoughts linger. She’s so mature for a thirteen-year-old. I can’t imagine drawing comparisons between a Civil War novel and the Hole at her age, but then again, my childhood aged me too.
Maybe the Hole ages everyone beyond their years.
“Why are you here?” I lower my voice when I ask.
Her eyelids flutter open. “I’m not a bad person, really, I swear. I was only trying to feed my family. They were starving to death and stealing was the only—”
“I never, not even for a minute, thought you were.” I lean closer to her. “How old were you when this happened?”
“Eight,” she says, dropping her eyes. She fiddles with her hands in her lap.
“And what? The guards took you away?”
“They came late the next night, didn’t bother knocking. My family and I were getting ready for bed and they barged in like animals on a rampage. I knew they had come for me, so I went willingly because I couldn’t bear the thought of them hurting my parents because they did nothing wrong. I did.” She looks directly at me, her eyes glistening with the memories.
“I’m so sorry,” I wrap my arm
s around her.
“It’s okay. Everyone here has a story,” she says as she snuggles in closer. “On the bright side I got to meet you.”
“I guess that’s one way of looking at it.”
“Do you want to know what bothers me the most?” Another tear slides down. “I’m going to die a sinner. This is who I am. And there’s not a thing I can do to change that.” Her hands pull her hair away from her chest, revealing her sickly yellow brand. “They even took my dignity.”
Her words stump me. Dignity—it’s a word I never thought about until arriving at the Hole. It’s an unusual word for such a young girl to use, but when she says it, I know exactly what she means.
A plan begins brewing in my head. “I have to get something.” She looks at me with an anxious expression. “I promised you I’d come back. I’ve never gone back on a promise and I’m sure not going to go back on one now.” It’s true. I don’t. I’ve had so many broken promises in my life I could never do that to anyone.
“I’ll just close my eyes for a little while,” she says, sinking farther into her bed.
I half-walk, half-run down the hallway. My feet barely touch the steps as I glide eight floors down to the main entrance of the hospital. I look around, then casually walk across the lobby, careful to avoid any bodily fluids, and stop directly in front of the prostitutes.
The blonde raises her head, evaluating me with her angry, tearful eyes. “What do you want?” Behind her accusing tone, I sense a vulnerable, weary, and sorrowful individual.
“I need a favor.” I speak slowly and gently so as not to make her more wary of me.
“You’re asking us for a favor?” The other girls narrow their eyes at me with suspicion, but I continue on.
“I need makeup… well, not for me. There’s a young girl—”
She raises her hand to silence me. Then she digs through her small handbag and pulls out a few items. “If I’m going to die in this godforsaken place, I might as well do something decent.” Then she presses the containers into the palm of my hand, willing her eyes to mine. “Hell with the guards and the system. Take this, make your friend happy.”
“Oh, thank you, thank you so much,” I say.
As I make my way up to the floor, I turn the items over in my hand—lipstick, mascara, and blush.
I can do this, I think.
I lose track of time, and before I know it, an hour has passed. Those worthless elevators. Running up and down eight flights is exhausting. When I arrive back at her room and pull the curtain aside, Alyssa scoots into a sitting position to talk to me.
“Told you I’d be back.” I hug her.
She gives me a partial smile. “What’re you up to?”
“I got makeup!” I bounce to her bedside.
“What?”
“You heard me.” I pull the chair to her bedside. The sunlight fades as the sun sets, so the room darkens with shadows from the candles. “How about lipstick, mascara, and blush?”
“What do I have to lose?” she asks, nudging me.
I open the mascara and begin looping it through her eyelashes. Putting on makeup feels awkward. I’d never actually used it myself, but I remember watching my mother do it years ago. She’d sit in front of her mirror and curl her lashes before running the thick, bristled mascara wand through them. Her eyes looked sultry and mysterious when she’d finish. I always wanted to try but never had the chance, and my heart sinks a little just thinking about it.
“I hope you trust me.” I finish her eyes, and plug the mascara up again. Her lashes flutter as she gazes up at me. Their beauty astounds me.
“I do, silly,” she says. “I’m just a little worried about your beautician skills. That’s all.”
I snort at her reply. If she only knew how beautiful she really is. I finish with the blush and lipstick. “Do you want to take a look? Or would you rather not scream at yourself?”
“Very funny.” She opens her eyes wide, almost as if testing her new lashes. She grimaces for a moment, breathing in and out in concentrated gasps.
“Wait. Are you all right?”
“I’m fine. It only hurts when I move, so I can’t complain. Don’t worry. I can suck it up.”
“Do you want me to go get a nurse?”
“No. I said I’m fine.” Then I remember she has the only morphine bag in the entire hospital and it shrinks daily. I take the tubing in my hands and examine it. “What’s this?”
“That’s the clamp. They use that to control the amount of morphine they’re giving me. Make sure you don’t touch it. If you roll the ball on the clamp toward the bag, the morphine will pour into my vein and I’d get too much too fast.”
“Let me help you to the chair, then I’ll push you to the bathroom so you can get a glimpse.”
She struggles to move, so I help lift her off the bed and onto the seat. Her body weighs nothing, even for me. The legs of the chair scrape as I push her toward the doorway. “Close your eyes, and don’t you dare open them until I count to three. One… two… keep them closed. No peeking!”
“I’m not!”
“Three!” Her face says it all, her eyes widen and her mouth forms into the biggest smile I’ve ever seen. Her eyes glaze over as her hands gently trace her cheekbones.
“I forgot what I looked like.” She smiles. “This virus has been whooping my butt. And you just showed it who’s boss! Where’d you learn how to put makeup on?”
“I used to watch my mother years ago… Anyway, can’t screw up too bad with three items. There’s only so many things you can do with a tube of mascara.” I shrug the tears off with a smile.
Then the shy, black-haired nurse peeks her head in, looking at me. She gasps at the sight of Alyssa. “My God, sweetie! You’re so beautiful,” she says.
Alyssa’s smile stretches from ear to ear. “This is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me. Am I allowed to keep it on, or are they going to make me wash it off?” Alyssa asks.
“I won’t let that happen.” I kneel at her bedside. “Hey, if I was a boy I’d date you in a heartbeat!” She doesn’t answer, but I can tell she’s pleased as she turns her face to view it from all angles.
Then with quiet humor she confesses, “I’ve never been on a date before and obviously I’ll never get that chance.”
I look at her and smile. “Me neither, so I guess that makes us equal.” I laugh. Her hand moves to cover her brand as she glances in the mirror again.
“Hold on one second.” I pull a sheet from the clean load. No one will miss one sheet. I rip it into a rough shape of what I want, throwing the shreds in the trash, all while she watches.
“Okay, now just work with me. Lift your head for a second.” She raises her head, and I wrap the sheet around her neck to cover her brand like a scarf. I tie a small knot and look at her. “Now what do you think?” Tears creep out of her eyes and make small paths down her face.
“Better,” is all she manages to say.
I drag the chair back to her bed, lift her, and tuck her in. She’s frail, and yet, stronger than anyone I’ve ever met. Being with her opens my heart. Good people really do exist here. That brings me to Cole—I don’t even know what to think of him. A knock on the door interrupts our conversation and Sutton steps in.
“It’s after seven. Cole’s waiting for you.”
“For me?” Alyssa winks at him. “Just kidding.”
“All right.” I give her a hug. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Okay,” she says, still beaming.
When he shuts the door behind us, I realize I might not have time alone with Sutton again until tomorrow, if he’s even around. “Can I ask you for a favor?”
“Depends on what the favor is,” he says.
I tell him my plan. He seems hesitant at first but then agrees it’d be the best thing for Alyssa. Now, I have to talk to Cole and I’m more worried about his reaction. After the past few weeks, I don’t want to push too much, but this situation calls for a particular kind
of compassion.
I saunter up to the desk where Cole and Zeus wait. He continues talking to Amber, ignoring the fact that I stand behind him. I lean against the wall and watch until the flirting session ends. Amber gets out of her chair, stands behind him rubbing his shoulders and asks, “Do you want more to drink?”
Ugh. She might as well drool on his head while she’s at it.
She doesn’t even wait for a response. She walks to the fridge and bends over to grab his water. I swear he checks out her backside. Vomit. Her pants slip down, showing a bright pink thong. I really didn’t need to see her butt-floss, but there’s no way to avoid it. She returns with his water and he sips it casually. Her triumphant eyes meet mine.
“Oh, didn’t see you there,” she exclaims with pure joy.
Cole turns around. “How long have you been standing there?”
“Long enough,” I say.
His face turns red with embarrassment. “I’ve been here since seven waiting for you,” he says.
“I know,” I say.
He gets up, grabs my arm, and pulls me down the hall. He stops. “What’s wrong with you?” He asks while pointing his finger in my face, and I have the slightest urge to bite it. “When I give you an order, you obey it.” He gives me a stern look.
“I was finishing up with a patient, sorry. I’ll pay closer attention to the time from now on,” I say. His expression changes and he releases his grip.
The truth is that time doesn’t matter to me when it comes to Alyssa. That girl has changed me in so many ways. Who ever knew a thirteen-year-old could teach me so many things? She’s the only one who’s accepted me for who I am. It’s something I’ve never had, and I’m not willing to let go, but I have to change my approach if I have any chance of getting him to agree to my plan.
“I need to talk to you about something important but not here, okay?” I ask.
“And you’re telling me now… because?”
“I’m not sure really.” His face remains stubborn, but he nods, giving me permission. I think.
After we arrive at our quarters, tension hangs in the air. This isn’t how I wanted things to start. He changes his uniform, grabs a bottle of water, and stands stiffly in the doorway to my room. Zeus lies beside me as I sit on my mattress, fearful of setting Cole off.