Page 91 of Vandal Unbound

Tonight, the quiet is different. Because it’s not silence.

I can hear the strains of laughter and splashing from the bathtub down the hall and the low murmurs of Daisy’s and Elsie’s voices.

As I’m cleaning and putting things away, I find a half-drunk bottle of vodka from before my accident. Is there still a whisper of temptation to lift it to my lips and feel the freedom that kind of escape brings?

Sure, I’m not cured. The physical exertion hit different today. And I had a flashback when I went into the garage and found a baseball bat.

But I’m cured enough that I simply open it and pour it down the sink.

I spot a pink cup on the counter with a straw that’s been chewed on by tiny teeth sticking out of the top of it. It’s glitter and flowers and everything that isn’t me.

And yet, I’d die for the kid who owns it.

There’s a pair of Daisy’s sandals by the back door, and one of Elsie’s sneakers. And I suppose that’s gonna be the next ten years of my life, making sure she can always find the other.

Daisy comes into the kitchen and catches me staring. “What?” she asks.

I rub my hand over my mouth and then look around the kitchen. Down the hallway, Elsie is brushing her teeth while trying to simultaneously sing some song about a frog as far as I can tell. “Up until today, this place was a house. It had all the basics. Walls. A roof. A bed.”

It’s impossible to stop myself from walking over to Daisy. Carefully, I set my hands on her hips. Maybe it’s because that’s what I’m learning: Careful doesn’t mean weak. It’s not the opposite of strong.

“I want the two of you to help me make it a home.”

Daisy’s hands come up, and she slides them over my biceps. “This is all happening at a million miles an hour.”

I tug her close and brush my lips over hers. “I know. But I’m ready to get on with the rest of my life. Aren’t you?”

Daisy smiles at that. “I am.”

Before I can say anything else, a small voice yells from the hallway, “I’m done brushing, but I think your toothpaste is spicy.”

Daisy laughs into my chest, and I close my eyes for half a second and let the sound of it sink into the wood, the walls, and the bones of this house.

Then I call, “That’s because it’s grown-up toothpaste, baby girl.”

Elsie appears in the doorway with damp curls around her face, wearing dinosaur pajamas and holding Sir…Bear…in one hand. “I don’t think grown-ups should make their mouth hurt on purpose.”

“Fair point. Are you ready for bed?”

Elsie looks between me and Daisy, then lifts her chin. “Can Vandal tuck me in?”

Daisy’s hands tighten on my shirt, and mine tighten on her hip, because, fuck. It’s bedtime. And Elsie wants me above everyone else to put her to bed and let her know that she’s loved and safe.

“If your momma says it’s okay,” I say, because I don’t want to overstep with Daisy.

Daisy’s eyes shine, but her voice is steady. “It’s okay with me.”

Elsie beams as she gestures for me to follow her. “Come on, Vandal.” She disappears down the hallway, and I look to Daisy.

“What the heck am I supposed to do?”

Daisy laughs. “Make your own routine with her, but if it involves singing songs and reading stories, it’ll be plenty.”

I follow her down the hall to the room that was bare this morning. The bed and bedding is new, covered in rainbows and fairies and the occasional unicorn. There’s a nightlight shaped like the moon plugged into the wall, and three stuffed animals are lined up on the pillow.

Elsie climbs in and immediately rearranges everything to her requirements. “You can sit on that side,” she says, pointing to the left-hand side of the bed.

When we both finally settle, Elsie turns her face on the pillow so that she’s facing me. “Do I live here now?”