The Girl He Forgot (Book 2)

Chapter 7 - We've Done This Before

The next morning, I woke up early. Mostly due to the sound of vehicles driving past – it wasn't really an ambiance I was accustomed to. I went to the window and looked down my nose at the street below. Rick was driving the RV towards the armoury, probably going to stock the trunk with guns for the assault. Several others milled around readying, clothes, food and first aid etc for the journey. I quickly showered and dressed. It was dull outside, but the temperature was hot and the air close. I grabbed the cookies from the kitchen cupboard and set off down the street to Carl's house.

I brought my fist up to the wood of the yellow door and knocked a few times. I wasn't sure exactly how I was going to play this. How I was going to bring it up or what I was going to do if he didn't remember. I gave myself little time to think lest I bottle it and never confront him. The muffled sound of boot steps approached from the other side and the latch clicked. The door opened lazily, revealing Carl on the other side.

"Hey" I smiled.

"Hi" Carl said, returning the sort of smile I could tell he didn't mean. He leant against the door frame, one arm above his head. He looked a little out of sorts; tired perhaps.

"You ok?" I asked, concerned for the boy across the threshold.

He straightened up hastily. "Fine" he replied, nodding breezily. 

I frowned, not really believing him. "Brought you some cookies" I said handing out the Tupperware box for him to take.

"Thanks..." he said, looking a little puzzled at the gift but accepting it anyway. "You bake?" he asked.

"God no" I scoffed, vaguely remembering almost poisoning myself the last time I tried to cook something. "Carol meant for us to share" I explained.

"Oh, cool" Carl said, light-heartedly. "Come in". He began walking over to the kitchen, obviously expecting me to shut the door behind me. I rolled my eyes – manners were most certainly dead to this boy. 

The tumbler clicked shut behind me and I followed Carl onto the kitchen tiles, coming to a halt at the breakfast bar and leaning on its cold granite surface.

Judith sat in her highchair happily gargling to herself. An unidentifiable mush covered her hands, her face, all of her, really. She held that strange spoon fork hybrid in one hand and was finger-painting in her breakfast with the other.

She's grown so much these past months, I thought to myself once over the initial shock of the mess... I suppose you could call her a toddler now. She must have been around eighteen months perhaps? I tried to recall my cousins and what they looked like at that age, but the memories were so distant now. All I had was that photograph I'd taken from their house and by that time they'd have been ten and twelve. I should have perhaps searched for more... Ah well, no sense dwelling.

Carl bent down with a towel and attempted to clean Judith's food off her face, but she was having none of it. However, for someone so stubborn, she was at least quiet. She'd turn her head from one angle to the next, avoiding the towel each time. She didn't cry or even laugh, only smiled, her big brown eyes regarding her older brother mischievously. I wondered how often she'd been told to be quiet when Carl and his group had lived out there. How many times her life, all of their lives, depended on her not laughing, not crying, just being exactly what a new-born baby shouldn't be – silent.

I couldn't help but smile now – she didn't have to be quiet anymore. I glanced at Carl who let out a slightly frustrated sigh. I hadn't expected him to look so weary and downtrodden as he straightened up, throwing the towel over onto the counter in defeat. I got the feeling something was on his mind but whether he was going to tell me, was another story...