By her twentieth birthday, there are a few things Valarie Ricci knows for certain.
She knows that her waitressing job barely covers the costs of living out of a beat up old van. She knows she's stuck in the dead end hometown her high school friends...
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A cop found Nonno two hours later, walking with one shoe towards the nearest highway. Valarie sobbed with relief that–aside from some scrapes on his feet–he was unharmed. She wanted to curl into a ball and shrink and shrink until she blipped out of existence. She did not sleep that night, but set up a blanket and pillow on the floor outside Nonno's bedroom door.
Alice remained on the couch, dead to the world. Throughout the rest of the night and into the early morning, Valarie alternated between checking on Nonno and Alice, making sure that they were still breathing, that they were safe, that nothing bad could happen to them. After consulting Google, Valarie made sure that Alice was on her side so she couldn't choke and propped her up with pillows.
It was the longest night of her life. She was sure that the house had swallowed her whole and that she'd never hear the sound of another human voice again.
When the sun rose, Valarie went into the kitchen and made pancakes using a box mix. When the pancakes were done, she moved on to eggs, cracking open half the carton. Then toast and jam and the last two potatoes she had in the house. When she was done, she had enough food to feed a whole family.
It was reckless, making all this food. As she dug in, she thought about all the breakfasts and lunches and dinners she'd skipped because there wasn't enough for both her and Nonno. She thought about the meals Bastien made when he and Mom visited. She remembered the cut of steak she'd had at the Bell's house, Grace sitting across from her and saying you must be a goddamn saint for sticking by her.
If she were to wake up Alice for breakfast, odds were that Alice wouldn't be able to keep it down. So Valarie ate enough for two. She ate beyond the point of comfort, pretending that the food tasted any better because she had made it and bought all herself. She dreamed up an image of a large table full of people she cared about, people that she could feed and feed well. She had the urge to eat until she was sick.
Nonno woke around noon. Alice at two. She didn't say a word to Valarie, but gathered herself up and went to the bathroom. Valarie heard the sound of the shower running soon after. Valarie cleaned up the bucket and water bottles she'd left by the couch for Alice. She was watching TV with Nonno, dozing in and out of sleep, when Alice reemerged.
Alice's hair, longer when wet, hung in loose, messy curls down her back. She wore an oversized hoodie–one of her own rather than Valarie's–and navy blue sweatpants. Her eyes were red and her face was pale and splotchy. She perched on the armrest of the couch, leaving lots of distance between herself and Valarie.
For a long moment, they watched each other.
"Vala–" Alice began.
"Did you use Polysporin?"
"What?"
"For your hands. They were cut up pretty bad."
Alice looked down at her palms. "Oh. No, I didn't."
