Don't Touch Her

Chapter Seven

It had been a week since the Halloween party.
That night, I had nightmares about different creatures, the mutilated bunny, and clowns with multiple heads.

I hadn't told Clara. The next night, I tried to stay up, afraid I would dream of them again. In the end, I had fallen asleep and had woken up once again with white figures and ghouls fresh on my mind.

I had slept that morning outside in one of our lawn chairs we had bought at Goodwill for a cheap price. Somehow, it helped. I didn't dream of those things again.

Clara had started working more often, spending hours and hours at the cafe. She would come home too exhausted to do anything. So, I would clean, do the dishes, and straighten up the house, which never took very long.

It gave me something to do, something to keep my mind off things. I read a lot, sitting outside under the tree in our fenced backyard, brushing away the leaves with my feet.

I read most of the same books. Frankenstein, which I had cautiously purchased months after we had left the orphanage. The Jungle Book, Pollyanna, Heidi.

I didn't have very many, only ten.

Katie came over after two days. I worried she was mad at me. I worried that she hated me and never wanted to talk to me again.

But she had knocked on the front door and asked if I had wanted to come over, to which I said yes to, after informing Clara.

We had walked back, and I had seen a blood-red Mustang in the driveway. I hadn't known it was Dominic's until he had stepped out of the car.

"Is it already the weekend?" Katie groaned.
Dominic had started visiting on Fridays and wouldn't leave until Sunday night.

"Glad to see you too," he had said, and then he had winked at me.

"Ughhh," she sagged her shoulders. "Anyway," she turned towards me. "My mom wanted to know if you and Clara wanted to have dinner with us again?"

"Oh... I don't know if Clara could. She's been working a lot lately -"

"Well, that's okay. You could come," she interrupted.

"Oh... Well, okay. Yes."

Katie and I had taken a walk around the neighborhood until it was about five and then had come back for dinner.

Mini had made mushroom pasta, rolls, and green beans. She liked to cook and was excellent at it.

"Violet, hello!" Mini held her arms open to hug me, but I had flinched, stiffening afterward.

And she had looked at me, the smile on her face had sagged a little, but then she had cleared her throat and announced dinner was ready.

I looked past her and saw Dominic staring at me. Panic set in. He saw, he knows. My hands started to shake, and I grabbed them, holding them tightly together.

We sat down at the table. Alan insisted on filling my plate, commenting on how thin I had been looking lately, to which Mini elbowed him in the side.

Clara and I couldn't afford much lately, that's why she was working more hours. I had started looking for a job too, but no one would call me back.

We had talked about school and upcoming tests, Dominic's life at college, to which he was trying to earn his bachelor's degree in aerospace engineering.

And briefly about Clara, to which Mini had nodded, a question on her mind she was too nervous to ask.

After dinner was finished, Mini had brought out homemade ice cream. I had looked at Dominic, his arms crossed over his chest, and he had winked.

"Violet, I've been told you haven't tried ice cream," she said, already scooping me a bowl. "This is my Apple pie recipe. I promise you'll love it," she smiled and passed me the bowl.

She started scooping another bowl, a bigger one for Alan, and slowly, I took a small bite of her ice cream.

Like the pomegranate, it was delicious in every way.
"Thank you. It's very good."

"Wonderful," she smiled. "I love making ice cream, though it's a bit of an arm workout," she chuckled.

Before I left, about thirty minutes later, Mini had insisted I take home the leftovers.
"For Clara," she said, but it was way too much for one person to eat.

But I thanked her anyway. She knew we were struggling, and she was trying to help.

I admired her for this, but a part of me wished she would stop. Wished she would let us try and succeed on our own, learn how to live, and get by without any assistance.

Perhaps this was just pride. I didn't want help, but I knew we needed it, so I never said a word.