Pandemic

Lost and Suspicious

The room they had set aside for me was a very nice room, no doubt, and hadn't been used in decades. I observed the slightly peeling wallpaper of violet color that was certainly out of fashion and in bad shape, but it didn't mean I appreciated their hospitality any less. Truly, we'd never met, and it was kind of them to take me in on such short notice.

The city where my mother and I lived had been infected badly by the virus, though my mother insisted she continue to work there until she could sell our house and move us out to the countryside. She had sent letters and postcards to many relatives, and the only set who hadn't outright refused to take me in for fear of an infection were my aunt and uncle.

I found it odd that my mother hadn't mentioned a little boy before I departed. Wouldn't she have told me I had a cousin? But she'd been anxious over a number of affairs she had to get in order, which would explain a bit of empty-headedness on her part.

"How are you finding your room?" Aunt Rosa asked from my doorway, startling me a little.

"Oh, it's great," I assured her, smiling weakly. The long train ride had tired me out and I felt a yawn coming on.

"I'm glad you like it," she replied shortly, then closed and locked the door to my room before I heard her footsteps cross the hall.

This disturbed me a little; why had she felt the need to lock my door? What if I had to use the bathroom in the middle of the night? But I dismissed these worrisome thoughts because I didn't have the energy to confront them just then. This door locked from the outside, which could be seen as odd, but in the same way, many houses had doors like that. She didn't know me, and I could be some sort of kleptomaniac! After all, my mother wasn't the most honest person herself, and so why shouldn't her daughter be the same way?

Before I went to bed I decided to write a letter to my mother, who was no doubt worried about me. She refused to give me a cell phone every time I asked because she said I'd just distract myself from homework, but for this trip she had sent me with a stack of postcards and a stash of pens, envelopes, and stamps.

Dear Mom, I wrote, I got here safely. I thought you'd want to know. If I had a phone, I could've told you right away. Aunt Rosa and Uncle Harry seem very nice. They're letting me stay here, but you're probably going to have to tell them how long you're going to be in selling our house. I'm running out of room. Why didn't you tell me I had a little cousin? Bobby is such a cute little kid. Love, Violet.

I sealed the postcard in an envelope and put a stamp on it. I wrote out the addresses and then placed it under my pillow so I wouldn't forget to mail it, as I'd see it when I made my bed the next day. I then climbed into bed and fell asleep as quickly as I'd ever before.

Sometime during the night, in the midst of a deep sleep, I felt myself slowly being awakened, but chose to stay in a hazy sleep state. I heard the door open to my room, and figured my aunt or uncle was checking on me. I drifted off to sleep, my head seeming to adjust itself on the pillow.

When I awoke the next morning it was only seven thirty, about when I used to wake up for school. I got up lethargically and began to go through the motions of making my bed. When I moved my pillow I remembered that there should be something underneath it, but there was nothing but empty space. I checked the crack between the bed and the wall to see if the postcard had slipped down there, but with no luck.

At breakfast, everyone was silent again, just like dinner the night before. I was hesitant to break the silence, but I was concerned about the whereabouts of my postcard.

"Did anyone go into my room last night?" I asked, trying to keep the tremor of uncertainty out of my voice.

Uncle Harry's face went a little pale and he looked to Aunt Rosa. She smiled at him first, then a little differently at me before saying, "I opened your door to check on you, is all."

"Oh," I reacted, relieved. It was just what I had thought. "Okay. I just thought--I had a postcard under my pillow that I could mail to my mom, and I can't find it, but I'll just write another one."

"Kids lose things all the time," Uncle Harry said, his coloring restored. "Just ask our Bobby." He got up to put his plate in the sink and ruffled Bobby's hair.

"No, that's alright, don't ask Bobby," Aunt Rosa said in a quick and calm way. "He is a silly boy."

I laughed, thinking it was a joke, but Aunt Rosa's gaze hardened and she said, "I mean it, you're not to talk to Bobby."

Bobby stared at his plate silently, and I couldn't help but do the same. Why would she say such a thing? Uncle Harry thought nothing of it, as he called Bobby to help him in the garden, but I couldn't stop myself from feeling uneasy. The way children were treated in the countryside was certainly awful. Under lock and key, not allowed to speak, it was insane!

The rest of the day passed without incident. I hadn't brought anything to entertain myself, and Rosa wouldn't allow me to help indoors, so I went to the garden to do some weeding. I made sure not to converse with Bobby at all, for fear of being reprimanded by my aunt again.

When I fell into my bed that evening, completely exhausted, I heard a knock at my door. I assumed it was Aunt Rosa, as she was the one who seemed to own the key to my room, but when I answered, "Come in," Bobby entered. He put a finger up to his lips to keep me quiet and gently closed the door behind him.

"Before you say anything," he whispered, "I have to explain everything to you. And I don't have much time."