Broken People (Serial)

Twenty-Seven

Other than Cole, no one had visited Dale since he moved into the attic two long months ago. The thought that his manners were rusty crossed his mind while he held the door open and frowned at the little girl standing in the doorway. Rosie stared right back, her brown eyes huge on her pale face.

"What is it?" he asked when she didn't say anything. The kid shouldn't have been out this late. Then he remembered she lived in the street below, from where she could spy on him, and scolded himself for caring.

Still not talking, Rosie pulled out an envelope from the bag she carried on her shoulder and gave it to him. The matte paper rustled softly as he opened it, and a wave of perfume tickled his nose. The envelope contained a theater ticket to the big circus show. He looked at both sides but found no seat number written on it. A seat reserved in one of the private boxes then.

A slip of paper had come out along with the ticket. Pick me up at 6:30, the fancy handwriting said. Dale cringed. What did the Golden Lady plan this time? PS. Rosie shouldn't spend the night outside, but she doesn't want to stay here. Maybe she'll agree to stay with you. Wonderful. What was he supposed to do? Tie her up and drug her to keep her here? The kid would probably scream bloody murder if he looked at her the wrong way. Or she'd jump straight at his throat, and those were sharp teeth she had in her mouth, not to mention the metal bits. And Dale drew the line at hurting children.

"Did you read this?" he asked, still trying to decide what to do.

Rosie nodded.

Well, there was that. He stepped to the side and nodded for her to enter if she wanted. Rosie peeked past him at the darkness lingering inside the attic. The light filtering in through the windows barely made the outlines of the room visible. He couldn't blame her for refusing to go in blind, so he made an exception and switched on the halogen lamp on the table.

When Dale turned around, ready to repeat the invitation, Rosie was already inside, her eyes still inspecting the place, apparently satisfied with what she found. She dropped her bag on the armchair. The fingers of her bandaged hand tapped on the stuffed backrest. At least the prosthetic was functional, and they hadn't wasted everyone's time at the circus that afternoon.

"Good." Dale closed the door. "Don't worry. I won't lock it."

Rosie shook her head.

"Do you want me to lock it?"

She didn't answer but stared pointedly at the door.

"Okay." Smart kid. No building was safe in this part of town. Dale locked the door.

As he returned to the middle of the attic, Rosie made herself comfortable on the armchair, putting her feet up and using her bag as a pillow. It looked like she was going to sleep there, and Dale had no other choice than to accept her decision. The bed was big enough for two, even three people-an old piece of furniture from the previous century that, by some miracle, hadn't collapsed under its own weight-but he doubted she would share it with a man she knew nothing about. Life in the streets must have taught her some tough lessons when it came to that. She did, however, know enough to trust him to sleep in the same room with him.

Dale brought a blanket from the foot of the bed and draped it over her. "Sorry, there's no food in here."

As if remembering something, Rosie sat up and unzipped her bag. She pulled out a rectangular plastic box that she placed on the table near the lamp. It was filled with thick, square chocolate cakes. Rosie slid the box towards him.

"That's all right. I already ate." Dale had a sweet tooth but reckoned she needed the nourishment more.

"I can't possibly eat all this," Rosie said in a reasonable voice. "Besides, you have no fridge-" she glanced around the attic, "-and it would be a shame if we let them spoil. Miss Aurore always has good cakes."

Confronted with such logic, and startled by her sudden eloquence, Dale reached for a cake. They ate in silence, licking the insanely sweet chocolate off their fingers, and then each went to his or her corner to sleep.

Shortly after the light coming from the lamp died by itself, Rosie spoke into the darkness, "She said you should get a tux."