“She’s eating. That’s a good sign,” I tell him.
He nods but doesn’t say anything.
Eventually I get her to take the fork, and she begins to feed herself. My fingers begin to pick at some of the knots in her hair, trying to loosen them.
“I’m going to have to call Shelly and have her come over and cut it. Seems like short hair is in these days,” he tells me sadly, doing his best to make light of the situation. “I hope she cooperates.”
“Did they try to get them out at the hospital?”
“No. They gave her a sponge bath, but her hair hasn’t even been washed.”
“Then you don’t know that it needs cut. Let me work on it before you call Shelly.”
“I thought you were leaving?”
“Well, I am …” I focus on her hair. “But I can do this first.”
He leans back in his chair, watching the two of us. “CPS is coming out today to do a home inspection.”
My eyes lift to his.
“You and I both know that’s not going to go well if she’s terrified of me while they are here.”
He’s right. They’ve already given him a rough time, and even though she’s afraid of him now, something in my heart tells me she’s right where she belongs.
Mila reaches up and pats the side of my face. “More,” she says quietly.
It’s the first time I’ve heard her speak, and it pulls at my heartstrings.
Rage is instantly on his feet to make her more food.
I guess it would be okay if I stayed a day or two. Just long enough to help them with the transition. I guess I owe him that much. He did save me from killing myself. I’m glad he did. It gave me a chance to pay the universe back for getting Mr. Johnson killed. And I really didn’t want to die, I just … well, Iguess I just wanted peace. In that moment, it felt like death was the only way to achieve it.
When he places another pancake in front of us, this one with Mickey Mouse ears, she doesn’t shy away. She still gives him a wary look, but it’s a start.
“I’ll stay a few more days, but only until she gets a little more comfortable with you.”
He sits down and watches his sister eat, pleased that she seems happy with his creation. “They might run a background check on you, since you’re staying here,” he warns.
Mila watches me take a bite and then goes back to her own food. “That’s okay,” I tell him. “I’ve never been in trouble or anything.”
He nods, but he already knows this. Men like him don’t let you in their home unsupervised without doing a little vetting of their own.
“You’ll let me do most of the talking?” he asks.
“Yeah, of course. I’m just here to help.”
“Good.” He finishes his breakfast and then gets up to clean the kitchen.
“Are you full?” I ask Mila. I hand her a glass of milk, hoping to get a few more drops in her.
She nods, rubbing her syrupy, sticky hands together.
“If … if you don’t mind, I could give her a bath. The club brought everything we need, and I remember seeing a bottle of spray-in conditioner. I could see if it helps detangle her hair.”
He rubs his index finger and thumb over his temples. “Yeah, hopefully she’ll agree. She threw a fit when the nurses tried to clean her at the hospital.”
“We’ll be just fine, won’t we, Mila?” I say, bouncing the little girl playfully on my lap.