A bit later that evening I took a pillow and some extra clothes down to Isabelle. The door to her little space was open, so I peeked in. Isabelle was already asleep on the floor. I gently lifted her head and slipped the pillow under it. She shifted in her sleep but didn't wake. I figured she was exhausted from such an eventful day. I smiled at her and placed the pile of clothes in the corner of her little room. I closed the door behind me for the night and headed upstairs.
The next morning I slept in till 7:30. Dalia, of course, had already left for work by then. After showering and dressing I made up two plates of eggs and bacon which I took downstairs. Isabelle was already up and I found her doing the laundry. "Oh," I said, quickly setting down the food and walking over to her. "You don't have to do that."
She smirked at me. "There's nothing else to do, so I might as well do your laundry."
"Well," I replied, steering her away from the washing machine and dryer; "Just now you can eat your breakfast, and after that I'll bring you down some books."
We talked as we ate. "Where's Dalia?" Isabelle asked. I swallowed a bite of eggs and replied, "Left for work already." I furrowed my brow. "I don't like leaving you alone, but—"
"It'd look suspicious if you didn't go to work." She finished for me. I smiled. "Right. I think it's best if as little people as possible know where you are."
When we finished I brought down a few books from our library. Isabelle smiled gratefully but said, "I'm still gonna do your laundry."
I smirked. "You check the pockets?"
"Of course," she retorted, "I haven't known you for very long, but I've gathered that you're irresponsible enough to leave things in your pockets."
"Not irresponsible," I insisted, "Just forgetful." Isabelle smiled. I grinned and started to head upstairs, but paused halfway. "When lunch comes around, just eat whatever you want from the kitchen."
I worked at a greeting card company, coming up with the designs for different cards and the stupid corny jokes on some of them. Perhaps if ingenious doesn't quite describe me, creative at least does.
At lunch I couldn't help but wonder what Isabelle was up to. Which book had she decided to read first? I'd brought her all my own favorites. Was she having lunch now too? I tried to imagine her doing ordinary, everyday things, but the image of someone finding her kept returning to my mind.
This thought haunted me the rest of the day and I was so eager to get home that I beat Dalia. The house was still as a cemetery. I headed into the basement. Isabelle was nowhere to be seen. "Isabelle?!" I called, terrified. The door to her area opened and she walked out. "Yes?"
I sighed in relief, then grinned. "Got my laundry done?" I asked teasingly. She smirked and retorted, "Every last sock. And there's all the junk that was in your pockets." She pointed to a bowl filled with several items. Swiss army knives, tickets, receipts, change; she'd even saved out the used Kleenexes. I sheepishly threw those away.
"You have a nice day?" I asked as I sorted through the items. "Yeah," Isabelle replied halfheartedly. I turned to look at her and caught a sad look before she masked it with a smile. I creased my forehead and walked over to her. "What's wrong?" I asked in a tone as serious as I could get. She didn't meet my eyes as she shook her head and said, "Nothing."
I tilted her chin, forcing her to look in my eyes. "Please," I said softly, "Won't you tell me?"
She looked both pained and touched. As I looked into her eyes I realized how shockingly blue they were. A sort of bright, blue-green. Dalia and I had blue eyes, but a sort of dull, grey-blue.
Isabelle finally said quietly, "I miss my family." I studied her sympathetically, then laid a hand on her shoulder before leaving her alone to sort things out.
