This isn't the house I hope to own one day, but it's better than the place Dizzy and I shared. There are no boards covering windows or broken glass. This home is built of clapboard, and there are three wide steps like enameled molars leading to the porch. A few bushy plants grow snug against the house, browning in the July heat, and there's a single chaotic rosebush near the right corner.
There isn't a sidewalk. No numbers to mark the address. And the entire area is surrounded by a five-foot-tall fence built of wooden posts and barbed wire. The place feels eighty years out of date, and for some reason that makes it less intimidating. Internet, cell phones, security systems-these are things I've lived without for months. But this place feels historic, like it's been here a while and it's not going anywhere anytime soon, thank you very much.
Two girls sit on a front porch swing. When they see our car grumbling toward the house, they dash inside. The screen door smacks shut behind them. Seconds later, silhouettes appear in windows. Their faces press against the glass, hands cupping their eyes for a better look.
I sink down in the seat.
"Don't worry." Ms. Karina has a compact out. She examines herself in the mirror. "You'll fit right in, if you want to."
The car comes to a stop, and Cain opens the woman's door and then mine. Behind us, Eric parks the gold sedan. There isn't much of a driveway, so the vehicles simply squat in the crunchy yellow grass. It's hot outside. Impossibly, mind-blowingly hot. I'm still dizzy from so many hours spent half asleep, but the heat slams into me like a flyswatter.
"Some girls are groggy after such a long trip," Ms. Karina says. "It's understandable."
"I'm fine," I reply.
"I'm gonna take the bags in and then drop the rental in town." Eric has a bag under each arm and is marching toward the porch. He toes the front door open and heads inside.
Ms. Karina looks at Cain. "Go ahead and get started on breakfast. Let's have eggs, scrambled, and turkey bacon. Not that fatty pork kind. Turkey." She turns back to me. "You like eggs?"
I nod. I'm trying not to appear too eager, but I could eat an entire henhouse of eggs right about now.
Cain reaches for my wigs and Dizzy's shirt in the backseat.
"No!" I bark.
He snaps his hand back and stares at his feet.
"It's okay," Ms. Karina says. "He's only going to put them in your room."
It's not her words that change my mind, though, it's the look on Cain's face. He's large enough to cause an earthquake, and his face is carved from a quarry, but he's incredibly skittish. And I know it didn't help that I snapped at him.
"Here." I shove the wigs and Dizzy's shirt into his arms. "Sorry."
He looks up at me. It's only a second, but it's enough. There's a world of hurt behind those brown eyes. And something else, too. Something I feel reflected inside myself. I can't name it. I'm not even sure what it is.
Cain turns and heads toward the house.
"This is my family home. Built by my grandfather in the 1920s. He worked on it for six years to win his sweetheart's hand. Now that my parents are gone, it belongs to me." Ms. Karina says this last part like she's arguing with someone. She puts her arm behind me. Not in a touching manner. Just, there.
I walk beside her, wishing I still had Dizzy's shirt to cling to, questioning whether I've made a mistake in coming here. As we approach the house, I realize how enormous it is. Monstrous, really. I wonder what kind of work they do out here in the middle of nowhere. Maybe they help keep the place from falling apart. I've heard of old houses needing an entire team to keep them functioning. That could be fun. Though it wouldn't explain what Ms. Karina was doing in Detroit.
From the corner of my eye, I catch sight of an empty garden bed. It's positioned on the side of the house and surrounded by smooth stones and railroad ties. The dirt is cracked and barren, telling me nothing has grown there in some time. Ms. Karina sees me studying the garden, and her shoulders tense.
The porch creaks when we step up, and the screen door is even louder. We spill inside, the blue door gaping open. Ms. Karina closes both behind us, and a second later Eric reopens them to go back for more luggage.
Three girls sit on a couch pushed against the wall. One girl, a slim Asian, beats her heels against the floorboards. The second claps her hands together and then the tops of her thighs. And the third sings a playground song.
Went to the market,
To buy me a gown.
All the boys whistle,
And one fell down.
Sway my hips,
Lips stung by a bee.
Keep on walking,
Till he take a knee.
"Girls, come meet Domino," Ms. Karina says.
The girls stop at once and walk over. I notice all three wear silk carnations on their blouses, pink like the fading day. The Asian girl offers her hand, and I stare at it. A second girl slaps her arm down. "You're always so overeager, Siren. Give her a second to breathe."