Part 10 (1/2)
She's refusing to acknowledge I'm still in the room.
”Casey!” I snap, wis.h.i.+ng I didn't have to be this vocal, but I know better than to touch her.
Her rocking stops and her hands fall away from her ears. She clutches her knees to her chest, but her eyes remain closed.
After walking toward her quietly, I crouch down in front of her. ”Sweetheart, look at me.”
She doesn't.
”It's Max. I want you to look at me.”
Her eyes open. Once she scans my face, I see the tension in her eyes and the sadness in her lips' quiver.
”Does she come in here a lot?” I ask.
She shakes her head.
”Does anyone else?”
She nods.
”Do all the men who come in your room wear the black leather vests?”
Again, it's a no.
I stand up to give her s.p.a.ce and step back. When I do, Casey darts forward and wraps both her arms around my legs. Her hold is fierce as she buries her face in my knees and locks her arms together around me. If I tried to move at all, I'd fall.
I haven't seen her in weeks and the first time I do, she's had to witness my temper. It doesn't matter if it was triggered by someone hurting her or not. It says a lot about her trust in me that she'd feel safe enough to hold on so tightly.
”s.h.i.+t,” I curse out quietly. ”Okay, monkey. I see we have a situation here. You gotta let go of me for a few seconds so I can bring in your food.” As I continue looking down to the crown of her dark hair, I reach out my hand and squeeze her head as I ask, ”Aren't you hungry?”
Her arms release me and she looks up with s.h.i.+ning eyes. Then she positions herself to sit on the edge of the mattress, waiting for me to tell her what's next.
”Anna made you spaghetti tonight,” I tell her on my way to get the tray.
Casey's eyes light up and I notice the tension slowly seeping out of her.
”You like Anna,” I observe in pa.s.sing, setting the tray on the desk next to her water and tossing her mother's drink on the cart outside.
”Yes,” she answers.
”Well, there's my monkey's beautiful voice.” She smiles at the compliment. ”Get up there and eat. I'll hang around here for a little while, if you don't mind.”
I move to the corner of the room next to the door. Casey stands up, walks to the desk, pulls out the chair and takes a seat. Her hands move to the gla.s.s first, where she takes a healthy drink.
”I'll grab you more water when you're done with that.”
She nods, sets the gla.s.s down, and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. The snapshot visual of that action reminds me again she's still just a kid.
Trapped in a pile of absolute trash.
”Cilas is back,” I inform her, not sure if she's aware of that or not.
I don't know her feelings about him, but now that I have Anna's acquaintance with her clear, I'm pus.h.i.+ng for more. My statement doesn't come as a surprise. She continues chewing her food.
”Do you like Cilas?”
She shrugs and nods while eating. Again, the childlike demeanor is there, but never allowed to be outwardly present.
”So, I was wondering,” I start, trying to think of random things to ask a child to keep them talking. I'm not much of a talker myself, so I've no idea what to really talk about. ”I hear you like Winnie the Pooh.”
She nods again, shoving another forkful of spaghetti into her mouth, and then abruptly starts to chew it.
”Have you ever seen one of those books?”
”Yes. A long time ago.” she answers quietly and without looking in my direction.
”You like to draw, I know that.”
She nods, taking in a mouthful of food.
”Draw anything recently?”
”Yes,” she swallows.
”Can I see what you've got?”
Scooting her chair back, she walks slowly to her mattress. From the same spot where she kept the other pictures, she pulls out more. Walking toward where I'm still standing in the corner by the door, she reaches her full hand out to me. I grab the pictures and move my body toward the middle of the room, directly in the moon's view, so I can see them.
More pictures of kids, one after another. Boy, girl, girl, boy. The last picture, though, completely takes my breath away.
Looking up at her, I find her standing in front of me with her hands clutched tightly in front of her. She's waiting for my reaction.
This is a picture of me and her. It's a candid head and shoulder shot. In the drawing, her arm is wrapped around my shoulder and we're both smiling brightly. As always, her pictures are drawn as though the subjects are looking into a camera. This specific drawing is merely an outline, though. There isn't as much shading as she's usually added to her pictures. She must've just started it.
”This is beautiful, Casey,” I compliment her while using her real name. ”It's perfect.”
”Thank you,” she answers, walking back to her food.
Moving toward her now-seated position, I place my hand on her head again and squeeze gently. The muscles in her jaw move with every bite she chews as I hold onto her, not ever wanting to let go.
”I told you Cilas is back,” I remind her, waiting for her to look up at me. When she does, I break the news as gently as I can. ”This means I may not come around again for a while, but it doesn't mean I've left you.”
She stops chewing and her eyes water with understanding. The despair of her situation grabs hold, pulling at the center of my chest. She doesn't say anything further, but as she looks away, I'm reminded of what I've given her since the day we met.
Hope.