Free Love You to Death by Melissa March Page B

an embarrassing supply of bras and
underwear. They were all in my size. I didn’t ask how he knew.
    I wanted to thank him, but I wasn’t sure
how.
    What was the proper amount of gratitude for
someone taking you off the street, giving you a house to live in,
and a new wardrobe?
    “Are you tired?” He flipped the channels
absently.
    “A little,” I admitted.
    “The doctor sent a prescription home with
you, for the pain. I’ll get it filled tomorrow.”
    I nodded. The doctor had given me enough
painkillers to last until then. He stopped flicking through the
channels, settling on an action film. Nicholas Cage was looking
quite scruffy, battling in the underbelly of a plane.
    “Why me?” I asked, watching him closely.
    His eyes were bright in the glare of the TV’s
light. I was glad he didn’t pretend to not understand my
question.
    “You need someone to look out for you.”
    “So this is some kind of white knight
syndrome?” I picked at a piece of string hanging from my shirt
sleeve.
    “Call it whatever you want.” He sighed,
sounding frustrated.
    “Charity?” I choked on the word.
    “Are you going to start in on that already?”
He turned to glare at me. “We already went over this. You can take
care of the house until you get a job.”
    “I’ll pay you back.”
    “Whatever you say.” He pushed out of his
chair, handing me the remote on his way to the hallway. “I’m going
to bed. Goodnight.”
    * * * *
    The days seemed to pass slowly, one melting
into the other as I forced myself to go on living. Stewie was
always in my thoughts, which irritated Cass for some reason. To
keep the peace I pretended to forget my friend.
    I found a rhythm, a routine of my own. I made
breakfast for Cass every morning. Then I cleaned the house, did the
laundry, and went food shopping. I’d gotten a job as a part-time
cashier at the little grocery store in the strip mall a few blocks
away. I walked there, since I didn’t have a car or a license.
    Most nights we watched TV or played cards.
I’d gotten my GED, which I aced, and Cass encouraged me to apply
for classes at Towson University.
    For the most part, I managed to keep myself
busy during the day. It was the nights that were hard. When my head
hit the pillow and my body sighed into the mattress, safe and snug,
that was when my memories haunted me.
    I missed Stewie. I missed him more than I
thought I could, almost as much as I missed my mother. I mourned
him the only way I could, the only way Cass would let me. I grieved
alone, in secret. I cried myself to sleep every night.
    I didn’t even have anything to remember him
by. I’d asked Cass for his backpack, but Cass had said the jerks
must have stolen it because it wasn’t recovered at the scene. It
made me sick to think of them touching his things.
    By the end of the third month, I was looking
very healthy. My body and face filled out, making all the sharp
angles and hollows from my starvation days disappear. I settled
into Cass’s home much easier than I ever expected to. The first
time I realized I’d called his house my home, Cass had called to
ask if I wanted him to pick up something for dinner.
    “No, I already have chicken in the oven. Just
come home,” I’d said.
    Home.
    It was a loaded word. But it was true. I
couldn’t deny it now. I felt more relaxed here than I had anywhere
else in the last year. I took long hot showers and wore soft cotton
pajamas. I enjoyed the regular routine of getting up in the morning
and sleeping at night. Like a normal person. My world was peaceful
again.
    And Cass treated me really well. There were a
few lingering looks now and then, but for the most part he behaved.
Just as I was starting to think I might’ve been wrong about him,
the boom fell. Yesterday afternoon I came home from work to find
him pacing in the living room. He wasn’t supposed to be home for at
least another hour.
    “Hey,” I said, closing the door behind me. I
had a bag of groceries cradled in my