Celestial Worlds

Chapter Twenty-four

My waking up consists of hair on my face and saliva on my cheeks.

    There is a cat on my face. I'm chocking on its white hair and it's licking my face non-stop.

    "Ford!" Daniel emerges from the doorframe, holding a spatula, striding to the bed and picking up Ford by the belly. "The hell's wrong with you Ford?" he says leaning his face toward the cat. "I've cooked some tuna. Go down Ford." The way he says tuna, it's chuna. Ford goes down to obey him and he turns to me. "So...you eat toast for breakfast?"

    "Everything's good to me now. I'm starving," I croak out. I rub my eyes groggily and yawn.

    "Er...did you sleep well?" he asks nervously. He scratches the edge of his right eyebrow.

    I smile at him lazily, with my eyes closed. "Very."

    "You can sleep more if you want to. Ford's an arse." He laughs at his remark. I laugh too.

    "No thanks. I've had enough sleep. I'm starving," I repeat.

    "Very well then, come on." He helps me up from the bed. I cover my mouth because I'm sure it smells horrid. He sees my gestures and stifles a smile, eyes wide.

    "Shut it," comes my muffled reply.

    "I have extras in my bathroom. The one in the sink with the plastic thingies." With his accent, his a's become ah's so I get a whiff of his breath which smells like mint toothpaste and syrup. He must've been eating pancakes again, his favourite.

    I mutter a muffled thank you through my hand and go to the bahthroom. I see the clear toothbrush at the sink cover in sealed plastic. Probably from a hotel room. I open it and use the toothpaste, of course. After I brush my teeth, which I assured to be fresh, I wash my face and fumble for the soap. I see a soap, but it's his soap. The vanilla soap. I can't use this, he'll smell it. So instead, I wash my face with just water and dry them up. After last night, I'm thankful these pyjama bottoms didn't fall off because this can fit two of me. When I go down, I'm still wearing the large black shirt Daniel let me borrow and I have to hold the waistband of his pyjamas so they don't fall down. He's flipping toast now, funny because he has a toaster. He sees me and frowns at my hand holding the waistband.

    "Come on, I'll pin it up," he says, turning off the stove. He goes out of the kitchen for a while and comes back with something tucked in his lips. It's a safety pin. He bends down because of how small I'am and plucks the safety pin out of his teeth, opening it with one hand and grabbing the waistband of my pyjamas.

    For a second, I might be hallucinating. Everything goes in slow motion. His hand grazes my hipbone, so slowly and I hope he doesn't see the flutter of my eyes. He folds the waistband and inserts the pin, slowly. Maybe being careful so he won't puncture my skin or maybe everything's really going in slow motion. It's in place and everything goes back to normal. Ford the cat has been eating his tuna in big bites, Daniel smiling a tucked-lip smile and returning to the stove, and me, Victoria dumbfounded, clutching the edges of the counter. I let go, hoping he doesn't notice my reverie, and sit down on one of the seats.

    "Here," he says placing a toast on my plate. "It's delicious with Nutella."

    Nyutella. He says it like that.

    "Thanks," I mumble. He goes back and opens the cupboard. He pulls one of the many plastic jars with chocolate in them and hands one, never-opened, to me.

    He pouts his lips and tips in the direction of the jar. "Nutella."

    I grab a bread knife and scoop a mouthful of Nutella, hoping he isn't looking so I can actually shove it in my mouth, and spread it on the toast. He gives me another piece of bread so I can squish them together, making a sandwich. That's what he said.