I turn to glance at my bed briefly before I tuck my hair behind my ears and walk out of my room. Once I’m in the hallway, I lean my body against the wall and take a deep breath when the third series of knocks echoes back toward me.
I wait patiently and when the fourth sequence of a fist rapping against the door fills the otherwise empty air, I start to walk down the hallway.
I make it to the entrance of the living room and scuff the tip of my shoe against the dirty floor. I know I can’t make them anymore dirty than they already are, but I’m holding onto the hope that he won’t care either way.
I raise a fist to my mouth to stifle a cough. The fifth signal that it might be Garbageman sounds a little louder this time and is consistent with the instructions I gave him, so I close the gap between where I’m standing and the front door.
And when the sixth and final knocks mimic the very first that let me know that my guest had arrived and is making a melody against the old, beaten wood, I take a deep breath.
Telling myself that everything will be okay, I pull the door open and step out to greet my visitor.
“You look very pretty dressed up,” Garbageman says to me after the lady standing in the front area of the restaurant sits us down.
I don’t look up at him or acknowledge his compliment. Instead, I reach for the napkin that holds my knife and fork and unfurl it. Garbageman clears his throat and I give him a brief glance to let him know that I heard him, as I open the cloth napkin and place it on my lap.
“My dress has grass stains,” I say quietly.
“Does it?” he asks, a slight amusement sounding in his voice, “I hadn’t even noticed. Not that it would matter. I’m not here for your dress, Karolina.”
“My nails are dirty, and I didn’t have any shampoo,” I mutter as I fold my hands on the napkin.
Garbageman lets out a chuckle as he reaches across the table and gives my arm a quick rub. “All I see is a pretty girl, and that’s all you need to see too.”
A young woman comes over and sets down a card which I assume is a menu in front of me, then one in front of Garbageman. “Can I start you two with something to drink?”
I begin to chew the inside of my mouth nervously. I don’t remember ever having much to drink except for water when Mama and Papa remembered that I was still alive and in the house. I started to hate the banal taste of it but since it’s the only thing that I’ve ever been able to identify, it’s what I’ve kept drinking.
“I’ll have a Coke,” Garbageman says brightly, and when I don’t answer, he makes the choice for me, “and so will she.”
“I’ll be back shortly with your drinks,” the young woman says cheerfully as she walks away.
I raise my eyes and watch her disappear around a corner. She’s wearing black too, only instead of a dress, she’s got on pants and a short-sleeved t-shirt.
She looks clean and it makes me wish I had stayed home.
Garbageman chuckles slightly as he drops his elbows on the table and flips his menu over, “You can have whatever you want, Karolina. Don’t worry about what anything costs, okay?”
I look down at the numbers and letters before I gently push it away from me. I don’t know how to tell him that I can’t read; that my parents never cared enough about me to give me a basic education. I only managed to find Grace because I had become so frustrated with my computer that I kept mashing keys together until it took me somewhere.
And it led to Hell; the only place that I know we both belong in, only this Hell was beautiful, diabolical, and so fucking enticing that I never turned the computer off. That was the only way I knew I’d never lose her.
I cross my arms loosely over my chest as my chin drops to my chest. I’m trying so hard not to be miserable right now since he didn’t have to do this, but I don’t know how else to feel.
“Here you go,” the young woman says when she reappears again. She places a dark, fizzy drink in front of me and a straw next to it, then does the same for Garbageman.
“What are you having, honey?” she asks. I can feel her eyes on me, and when I shrug, Garbageman speaks up.
“I think we’ll have the loaded nachos to start, um … do you want the fish and chips or a steak instead, Karolina?” he asks me. When I don’t answer, he nudges me under the table with his sneaker and I take a deep breath.
“Um, fish.”
Fish is what was multiplied from one basket to feed many.
“I’ll take the steak then,” he continues, his voice still bright and cheerful. “And we’ll see about crossing the dessert bridge when we get there.”
The young woman giggles and I grit my teeth. She’s laughing at me. I knew that would happen; it usually does but I always lure those people away and make them pay for underestimating me.
I reach for the knife on the table and just as I’m ready to stand up and bury it in her throat, Garbageman reaches for my menu, stacks it on his, and hands them to her.
“We’ll have those nachos as soon as they’re ready,” he tells her. Another nudge under the table from him gets my attention and my eyes meet his. I can see the urgency in his eyes to not do what he seemingly feels is bound to happen.
I let out a breath, tighten my grip on the knife handle … then let it clatter against
