Melody clapped and cried out that my dress was pretty, but the girl seemed to find everything pretty so that was no surprise. Chantal, on the other hand, gave more constructive criticism. She complimented the color and the overall style, but had the same concerns for the fit that I’d noticed.
“Anything you get will probably have to be tailored,” she said as she adjusted the straps, which were clearly too loose. “But we can try to find something that fits as close as possible.”
“Um, excuse me,” a voice broke into our conversation. A store clerk hesitated off to the side, hand partially outstretched like they were about to snatch something out of thin air but changed their mind. “That dress…”
Their eyes were the same as my father’s, and everyone else who told me “Boys shouldn’t wear girl’s clothes”. However, before they could utter another word, Chantal cut them off.
“Oh, good. Do you have anything in this same color and style, but with a narrower fit?”
She stared the clerk down, her own eyes sharp and unwavering. A silent battle of wills passed between the two, and after a moment, the clerk left to fetch the requested items.
Chantal patted my shoulder. “Don’t worry honey. I’m an expert when it comes to getting my way.”
She really was. For the rest of the day, whenever someone tried to argue with us or cause a scene, she miraculously managed to cut them down before they even started, sometimes without uttering a word.
With such a ruthless defender at my side, I was finally able to start rebuilding my broken sense of self, one wardrobe addition at a time.
CHAPTER 22
Mia
It had been a good day,one that left a smile on my face even after it was over, but of course, it couldn’t last. That night, I had a particularly bad nightmare. Talking about the past and shopping for new clothes had disturbed the memories hidden in my mind. I dreamed of my mother, of my clothing, and of the moment I was made to burn every scrap of cloth I loved.
But that wasn’t all. I dreamed of Camp Green Hill. Years flashed by all at once, most of it was a jumbled mess, but like bright stars in a dark sky, the most painful moments stood out the clearest.
Starvation.
Electrical shock “therapy”.
Endless verbal and even sometimes physical abuse.
Layla.
I awoke gasping for air, keeping my breath completely silent out of habit. My memories of Camp Green Hill still weren’t whole,but it was enough. Cold sweat beaded on my forehead and I shivered.
“Auggie?”
The word was halfway out of my mouth when I noticed the dark, silent bedroom around me and I remembered that I was alone.
Oh, right. It was the middle of the night, and Auggie had to work tomorrow. Of course, he was asleep in his own bed. I’d gotten so used to having the man on hand, sitting vigil at my bedside or staying up late to keep me company after a nightmare, that I’d forgotten he couldn’t always be at my side. Auggie had his own life, and he needed his rest. I shouldn’t disturb him.
But I also didn’t want to be alone.
Maybe there was a compromise.
With my limbs still shaking from the after effect of the nightmare, I crawled out of my borrowed bed and slipped out of the bedroom. The whole apartment was dark and quiet, and I stepped carefully on bare feet as I approached the door to Auggie’s bedroom.
My hand hesitated on the doorknob.
Was this all right?
Auggie said I could ask him for anything, but maybe this was too much.
I caught sight of the scars on the back of my hand. The skin there was rough and twisted, but also healed, partly because of Auggie’s care. Even if this was asking too much, he wouldn’t hold it against me.
The bedroom behind the door was completely silent except for Auggie’s breathing. I tried to remain quiet as I curled up on the floor next to the bed. It was cold and uncomfortable, but Auggie’s hand hung over the edge of the bed just enough to remain in my line of sight. It would be enough.
However, despite my best efforts, I must have made some noise, because I’d barely managed to lie down on the floor when Auggie suddenly sat up.