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Isolation made her miserable sometimes.
She stayed home, though. She tidied up the new place, had meals waiting for Johnny as soon as he got home, spent time with him and listened to reruns of their favorite tapes: readings of Alice in Wonderland and Peter Pan, Carrie and Stand by Me, The Oval Portrait and The Man of the Crowd. Cryptic, lighthearted tales; easy to get lost in. She realized the day Harry stopped by how much trouble she had stirred about this past week. From forgetting her meds to swimming in the lake to not stopping by his work, and then missing the town's curfew... Johnny was bound to explode, eventually.
And she wanted to prevent that as much as she could. So she stayed home, she did what she was supposed to, and didn't once use the walkie Harry left for her.
There were a couple of times late at night, when the only thing awake was her senses, that she heard a sputter of static from the radio. No words were spoken, no other sounds were heard, just a quick scratch of silence that likely occurred from Harry accidentally (or purposely) pushing the button.
Daisy would pick up the walkie, run her fingers down the grooved side, and consider saying something. Just to hear his voice, as silly as that sounded. She enjoyed the little time she spent with Harry. Aside from his ability to make her nervous, he was genuine. He was human. There were sides to him that were unfavorable and he acknowledged this. Not only that, he worked towards bettering those unfavorable parts. She wished Johnny would take a lesson or two. 'I'm sorry's' are redundant with roundabout mistakes.
"What're the color of Hoax's eyes?"
It's the night of the third day since Harry confronted Johnny. Daisy made a meal of chicken breasts and roasted russet potatoes yet she couldn't eat. Her thoughts were too preoccupied with sour words: "you tend to isolate. You won't do that here." Tomorrow she would rundown Harry and help him in the garden. The very last thing she wanted was to prove Johnny right.
"Topaz. I think I'm going to sit by the water for a bit, get some fresh air."
She eats very little of what's on her plate, scarfs it down like she's late for something important, and grabs Harry's coat he left behind a few days ago when he dropped her off. She thought maybe holding onto it would summon him somehow.
Johnny doesn't pay much mind to her absence, just says for her to wear something warm because "the winds are something fierce tonight,' and goes about eating his meal.
And Daisy has her walkie, nestled in the pocket of the leather jacket. It weighs down the one side, hitting her hip and manipulating her balance as her heels sink into the muddied earth. There is a stillness that extends from the grass stems to the pine needles in the winds. The shops were closed, the absence of humanness a predecessor of being in the woods of Renwick; long nights of swaying in lonesome hammocks with books that made her feel so close yet so solitary to the world.
