“We could… buy blow up ones?” she asks in a small voice. “I don’t think they’re too expensive. Please?” she adds, pouting her lip out. Cammy joins her in the pouting.
I groan, then go to them and pull them into a hug. “Fine, but if I wake up with a stiff neck because I’m old, one of you are giving me a massage.”
They both giggle and squeeze me back.
We go to the store and find the fluffiest blankets and pillows we can get. The furniture will be here in two days. Maybe sleeping on the floor won’t be so bad.
After getting everything we need from the store, we go to the trailer to get what’s there. Some clothes and things that mean something to us. I told both of them we would buy new stuff, so only take what is absolutely needed. The less nasty shit we have to take with us, the better.
Most of Chrissy’s clothes are hand-me-downs from Cammy, and some of her T-shirts and pajamas were mine from when I was her age. We don’t need this shit anymore.
When we have everything, we go back to the apartment and drop our stuff into our rooms. Cammy and Chrissy talk about where they’re going to put all the furniture while I work on blowing up the air mattresses and putting the pillows and blankets on them.
They look pitiful in the corners of our rooms with the room being empty otherwise, but hey, we have our own rooms. Finally.
The house is quiet at night; so quiet that I almost can’t fall asleep. I put a sound machine app on my phone and eventually fall asleep, only to be woken up a short time later.
“Cass,” is whispered through the dark. I sit up, the mattress squeaking beneath me.
“Cammy? What’s wrong? Is everything okay?”
“I, uh… I…” I blink a few times, and my eyes adjust to the dark. She walks in, and I see her dragging her mattress behind her, the blanket and pillow in her hand.
I can’t help but smile as I get up and grab her stuff to set it up beside mine.
“Wow, now I don’t feel so bad for being scared.”
Cammy and I both look toward the doorway, where Chrissy is standing with her pillow and blanket clutched to her chest.
“Hey, I wasn’t scared,” Cammy says, walking toward the door. “I’ll get your bed.”
I scoot Cammy’s over to make room for Chrissy’s, which she slides in when she comes back with it. We get comfortable on our mattresses, side by side, with Chrissy in the middle.
“Why were you scared?” I ask.
“I’ve never been in a room so big before,” she whispers.
“It’ll be easier when it’s filled with your stuff. It won’t feel so big then,” Cammy says.
“I agree. Each night will get easier until this is normal,” I say.
Chrissy reaches for my hand, then snuggles into her pillow. A few moments later, she’s snoring.
I wake up Saturday morning to Chrissy and Cammy, snuggled on the same mattress together. I laugh to myself as I get up. Cammy slept with Chrissy a lot when she was younger because of the seizures. She was afraid that we wouldn’t wake up if Chrissy had one, because no one was there to feel it. Chrissy was the one who put a stop to it when she was eleven.
I hate how hard this is for us—because it shouldn’t be. This is a normal thing, and it shouldn’t be so difficult to get used to, but… such is life, I guess.
Things will get easier as time goes by. This will become our normal. I will do whatever it takes to make sure my sisters have a good life.
I get ready for work, and before I walk out the door, I check on them again—they’re still sleeping, so I don’t bother them.
Saturday with Harmon goes by great, as it usually does. It’s still my favorite day of the week. He hasn’t milked me again since that first time, but I think about it when I jerk off onto his food and I hope he will again.
When work is done, I make a stop at the cell phone store to get Cammy and Chrissy their own phones. I hadn’t planned on doing this yet, but since we won’t be going back to the trailer, there’s no reason not to.
I also want Cammy to get her license so I can get her a car. This way she can drive to and from work, stop taking the bus, and bring Chrissy to school or anywhere else she wants to go when I’m not around. I want them to have the freedom they deserve, but… one thing at a time. I have to take things slow, so we don’t get overwhelmed, or worse, in over our heads.
The girls are thrilled, to say the least, when I give them their cell phones. I so badly want to tell Chrissy to relax, but after the last time, I keep my mouth shut and pray like hell that she doesn’t end up in a seizure. She doesn’t, and I realize that I do need to chill the fuck out.