The Essence of Water

OLD VERSION Chapter 3

My house is nothing like Trish's. It's small and made of brick. The floors are old worn wood that creak almost everywhere you step unless you spent hours figuring out where they don't. I might be guilty of that. I don't have any siblings. I don't even have parents to welcome me home. Instead I have two Guardians who adopted me for the soul reason that the government pays them. I'm nothing but a bonus check to them.

"Adie?" I hear Gretchen call from the kitchen. She's an old spirit in that sense, the kitchen is her domain and she sees is as a failure if dinner isn't on the table when Henry gets in from the fields.

I slip off my flip flops and hook them on my fingers. "Yes it's me." I don't move away from the door. Gretchen's silhouette appears in the doorway at the end of the hall.

 "Where have you been?"

"I was out with Rag and Trish, I told you earlier." She flips the light on and suddenly everything comes into focus. The hallway has a small desk with a telephone perched on it, above it there are frames of photos from Gretchen and Henry's younger years. Not to mention their own two full grown children and their families. One could search all day and you'd never know that I lived in this house or that I existed at all. "Why are you wearing those clothes? What happened?"

"We were down at the river, Rag wasn't paying attention and he was goofing off. He bumped into me and I fell into the water. It's no big deal, Trish lent me her clothes and Tyler just dropped me off. That's why I'm late, I'm sorry."

She puts her hands on her hips. She's wearing one of her old flower print dresses, the one that went out of style about forty years ago. She's barefoot and her curly peppered hair is back in a bun today. There are two pencils sticking out of it. She looks like she has antlers but I refrain from saying anything of the sort. Not unless I wanted a wooden spoon to smack my butt. She always says I'm never too old for a good old fashioned beating and I don't doubt for a second that she believes it.

              "Well go get dressed, Henry will be home any second and I'll not have you delaying dinner. Now shoo." She turns the light back off and goes back into the kitchen. I breathe a sigh of relief and take the stairs two at a time.

              My room isn't really my room. I'm more like a temporary residence, as evidence by the fact that there is nothing here than belongs to me outside of my few clothes that are folded in the dresser under the window.  The room belonged to their daughter when she grew up here. There are photos of horses and old actors on the walls and the flowered wallpaper has begun to peel away at the edges. I've never been allowed to touch or change anything in this room, because when my interview comes, and I turn eighteen, I will be released from my Guardians care. It will be my responsibility to start my own new life. Unless of course the virus is found to be harboring itself inside my blood, then something else entirely happens.

              I shake my head, refusing to think about it. Tyler is wrong. I am not a Misfit. I'm not. But even I'm beginning to lose sight of things that were once to clear to me. If I'm not a Misfit, then how do I explain what happened to me today? I shake my head again.

              Keep it together Adie. The virus kills people. It doesn't turn them into water filtering mutant freaks.

              I change into my own clothes. They aren't much to look at, mostly old hand me downs of what Gretchen's daughter used to wear. Old jeans, most of them are bleached and ripped, and loose t-shirts that never quite properly fit. Gretchen's daughter wasn't only taller than me, but she had bigger boobs too.

              When I hear the backdoor open I know Henry is home, and it's time for dinner. A second later I hear my name being called loudly and I go downstairs. "Wash your hands Adie." Gretchen says when I hit the first floor. I slip into the small hallway bathroom and wash my hands with the homemade goats' milk soap that Gretchen buys from our neighbor Mr. Melberry. He has goats, we have sheep. I'm not sure which I hate more.