Unlocking Him: A Spot Conlon Love Story

Chapter Twenty Six: Daisies

Charlie forced herself to stay awake. She had caught on to the plan. Her and Race had a secret communication system in which they could read each other by facial expressions, hand gestures, and so on. He was there to rescue her. She first noticed him when she was being dragged down the hallway again after a beating. He quickly told her in their "special language" that he was going to bust her out. She was waiting. Waiting for Race to come, waiting to die, waiting to pass out, she didn't know what she was waiting for. She was just waiting. Something in her gut told her to stay alert. She fought the sleep trying to settle in. She couldn't fall asleep. He was coming right? Or had it been a dream? She rubbed her black eye, doubting herself. She was probably going crazy. How could Race possibly be in Queens? Her thoughts were interrupted when she heard the quiet creak of the door above. Quiet, cautious footsteps gently thumped down the stairs. She didn't know what to think. She heard her prison door being unlocked. She closed her eyes, bracing herself.

"Charlie? Hello?" Race whispered and gently tapped her shoulder. She hugged him as he dragged her out of the tiny confinement. She quietly wept into his shoulder and gripped his waist tightly as if she would fall if she let go. She dampened his shirt with tears as he stroked her hair and comforted her. When they finally let go, Race noticed the damage done.

"Damn. What did they'se do ta you'se?"

"It doesn't matter. I'se fine, is Spot ok?"

"Is Spot ok? Is Spot ok?? What bout me? Ya know what I'se been through??"

"I'se sorry. Race, how's life treatin' ya?"

"Whateva. Anyways Spot's ok...sort of...I'se dunno what she done ta him yet."

"Do I'se look ok?"

"Not really. Do you'se honestly think he'll care?"

"I'se dunno. I'se just wanna leave."

Race locked back the door and they both snuck out of the Queens' newsies liar, a shabby, run down, abandoned three story office building. Not every borough is lucky enough to have a lodging house. It took them almost all night to find their way back to Brooklyn. Race had no sense of direction, especially at night in an unfamiliar borough. But they made it finally after all of their wandering, twisting, turning around, and going in circles. Once they got there, Race started walking back to the bridge.

"Where ya goin'?"

"Home. I'se tired. Have fun. Don't get pregnant."

"Race."

"What??"

She pulled him into a hug and kissed his cheek. "Thanks for saving my ass, once again. I'se really do appreciate it."

"Well it's about time!!"

"I'se knows it's late but you'se the bestest most wonderful best pal there eva was an I'se glad ta call ya my good 'ol buddy 'ol pal 'ol friend 'ol real good buddy."

"Well gosh, I'se loves ya too."

They gave each other one last squeeze and parted. Charlie tiptoed into Spot's room and lit a candle.

"Whadda ya want now--Charlie!!"

He immediately got up and hugged her tighter than they had ever hugged. The excruciating tightness of the hug made her entire body screech with pain, but it was no longer significant. He was there, holding her. And she wouldn't have traded that for anything.

"In person."

"Whew, I'se thought you'se was--"

"Please let's not talk bout her."

Spot tucked some of her hair behind her ear, revealing her black eye. His eyes widened as he took the candle and held it up to her face. He looked at her, concerned and touched her cheek. She turned away from him abruptly. She didn't like it when him or anyone saw her cry. She felt tears pooling in her eyes and he didn't want him to see. She already looked awful. Her hair was tossed around her head messily and her face was brusied not to mention all the other places. Her nails were broken and some bled, leaving dry blood on her fingertips. She had several scrapes and burns in different places from being dragged and struggling. Her wrists were blistered from the rope binding. She hated for him to see her this way. She was usually never ashamed about her appearance, but she wanted to be beautiful for him. He hugged her from behind and tried to get her to look at him, but she wouldn't. He soon left her and went downstairs. After a few minutes he came back with the first aid kit and a damp rag.

"What're ya doin'?"

"Ya did it for me. C'mon, let's get you'se cleaned up."

She stripped down to her chemise, revealing more bruising, burns and scrapes. Spot pretended not to notice and sat her down, handing her the warm rag.

"Hold this on your eye."

She pressed the rag against her eye, relieving some of its soreness. Spot quickly cleaned her wounds and treated her bruises and burns. "They'se beat ya bad. Dats sayin' a lot."

"I'll be ok. Do you'se gotta hairbrush?"

"Yeah why?"

She laughed. It was a small laugh, but she still snorted a bit.

"What?"

"Isn't it obvious I'se needs ta brush my hair out. It's all ratty."

"I'se still thinks your bedhead's adorable."

"Oh really. Is my shiner the most God damn cutest thing ya eva seen?"

"Actually yes."

"Quit sugarcoatin' an get me a hairbrush."

He got up and and brought a hairbrush over to her. She reached for it but he pulled it away. "Lemme do it."

"Why?"

"Cuz."

"Cuz why?? I'se not so weak I'se can't comb my hair--"

"I'se know but I'se wanna do it. Ya hair's soft and smells like those...uh whatcha call 'em--da weird lookin' white sometimes yellow flowers that haves a tons of petals--"

"Daisies?"

"Yeah daisies."

"How on da world does my hair smell like daisies. Ya know where I'se been for the past three days?"

"In Queens."

"Locked up in this tiny little storage thing under their stairs. Sweating ta death. How does my hair smell like daisies?"

"I'se dunno but it's beautiful."

He started to gently brush her hair as she blushed a deep shade of red. He still thought she was beautiful when she was a complete mess. She felt much cleaner as her waves were smoothed out by the hairbrush. As the last knots and tresses were brushed out, she stroked her soft, auburn locks. They were still greasy, but not bad.

"Smell your hair and tell me it don't smell like daisies."

She smiled at Spot. He crossed his arms and plastered a smirk on his face, waiting.

"This is ridiculous."

"Just do it."

"Fine."

She breathed deeply into one of her locks and tossed it back over her shoulder. She turned around on the bed and faced him.

"Daisies?"

"Daisies."

He kissed her and they climbed under the sheets and blew out the candle. He held her close. He never wanted to lose her or her daisy scented hair again.