Chapter 28

Had he lived, Mila’s brother Michael would have celebrated his 37th birthday on Wednesday. She got a cake for the occasion, even though she had no one to share it with, and in some ways, remembering Michael was more painful than trying to forget. She lit the solitary candle with the same match used to light her cigarette and stared at the little flame for a long moment, contemplating life with all its many twists and turns. Wax dripped onto the icing, and Mila blew out the candle.

She carried the cake, a glass of milk, and a fork into the living room. She turned on the television and watched the program that came on. She wasn’t sure what it was, but it didn’t really matter to her. It was a diversion like any other: something to pass the time. She ate cake out of the box and drank her milk, smoking another cigarette to cap off her meal. She felt tired, but thanks to her trips around town, she had her prescription again, and plenty of heat ‘n eat meals in the freezer. She had also purchased a new microwave which she took great pride in heaving onto the counter.

Now as she looked around the largely unchanged living room, Mila began to see that she was living with a ghost. Possibly more than one. She could still picture her mother seated in the chair of judgment to her right. She could vaguely picture Michael tossing a football in the yard. She could scarcely recall her father, remembering only that he liked to work at his desk, even on weekends. Part of her hated this house, and part of her couldn’t imagine being away from it. She thought about the talk show Marqi had been so fond of; the therapist in charge would probably tell her she had an unhealthy attachment to a building. Still, she had no place else to go.

Why was that, exactly? Mila squinted as she smoked and mulled it over. Her mother had sheltered her in ways she was beginning to see were completely abnormal. It wasn’t that she had no idea; she’d seen other kids walking home from school, seen them teasing each other, and asked why she couldn’t play with them. Her mother’s answer was that the neighborhood children were filthy, disease-ridden heathens, but to Mila, they just looked like kids.

She wondered where those kids had all gone now. They were surely her age, and probably out doing things her mother wouldn’t approve of. However, they probably knew all about how to drive and use a bank card and have a job. Mila could hardly get the hang of one.

She sighed and stubbed her cigarette out on the coffee table, taking great pleasure in staining one of her mother’s treasures. It was her treasure now, and she could treat it like trash if she wanted.

She got up and walked around in a little circle. She went out the back door and walked around to the front of the house. She was finally free to come and go as she pleased. She could walk right out the garden gate and back in again if she so chose. She tried it experimentally a few times, but it lost its giddy thrill after a few turns. She closed it again and went back into the house.

What to do, what to do, she wondered in her head. She hated all these long hours in this house. In many ways it was exactly as it had been when her mother was here, except there weren’t strict school lessons to be learned, no Bible study to be had at night. She didn’t miss either. She was sick of learning things instead of learning about the world. She was angry that she lacked common skills like driving and cooking. Thanks to Marqi’s tutoring, she at least new how to work the laundry machines, so at least her clothes smelled spring fresh. The dishwasher was a slightly different matter, and she eyed the growing pile of dishes in the sink with unease.

Pursing her lips for a moment, Mila made a decision. She had to find Mei and bring her back here, if not to work, then at least to teach her how to be a little more self sufficient. She couldn’t quite remember where she had seen the woman, but she had a general idea. When her driver came in the morning, she would direct him to take her to the rich man’s house. She would track down Mei, and maybe things would get a little better.