still need Amber to be quiet.
We set her up in the basement with the couch as her bed. I let her wear my clothes at first, but I eventually allow her to raid my mother’s closet. Amber is beside herself. My mom had good taste and bought expensive things, but I’d always thought of it as “middle-aged fashion.” Amber loves it all, especially the Dolce & Gabbana skirts and the DKNY jeans. That is another thing that shows we would not have been friends Before. I would not have been caught dead wearing designer anything. My dad always assumed it was because I shared his eco-sensibilities, that I would rather spend the money to plant a tree or save a whale. Truthfully not all my friends were as wealthy as we were and I didn’t want them to know how much money we had. I didn’t want them to think I was a snob, especially Sabrina.
It’s weird to see Amber wear my mother’s shirts or scarves, but I find it strangely comforting too. I’ve avoided going through my parents’ closet for years; mostly I stay away from their room altogether. It’s all too painful, but giving Amber free range of my mother’s things breaks that spell.
After Amber picks out her new wardrobe, I show her the rooftop garden and she gets to work at once, which I am grateful for. The garden is a chore I never enjoyed, even though I recognize the need for fresh vegetables. Amber seems to know what she is doing and I leave her to it. She likes to be up on the roof, especially during the day. She comes downstairs, sunburned and glowing. Three years without any sunlight is a long time.
At first, I am afraid to leave her alone with Baby. I imagine every horrible thing that can happen. Amber accidentally letting Them inside. Amber convincing Baby to eat some questionable canned food. Amber letting it all get to her and going crazy, maybe trying to end her own life and not caring who she hurts in the process.
All these thoughts rumble around in my head while I watch Amber playing with Baby, eating our food, doing her chores. I pay close attention to how she interacts with Baby and even check on her when she’s sleeping. She curls on the basement couch, mouth open, breathing loudly. I’m glad we set her up downstairs because if she were in one of the upstairs bedrooms, her snores would bring Them.
After about a week, I start to relax. Amber doesn’t seem like she is on the verge of a nervous breakdown, in fact she is making an incredible effort, especially with Baby. Sometimes she looks out the window, staring at nothing. She was abandoned by her brother. I’d be a little depressed too.
I don’t know when it is exactly that I start to like Amber, but one day, I just do. It’s nice to have someone around who is about my age. She takes such pleasure in our life, in our home. She sits and watches the dishwasher run. She helps Baby make a pillow fort. She plucks a pigeon without complaint. I am especially glad that she gets the hint after that first night and stops talking. Well, mostly stops talking. We speak to her in a broken language: Amber sleep now , or Amber go up, eat now .
She understands more each day. Baby and I sign in front of her, trying to let her see as much as she can so she can learn to communicate with us. I show her which appliances are “safe” and which can only be used if all the doors and windows are shut, to lessen the noise. She falls in love with the shower and I have to limit her to only ten minutes a day, unless it is raining. Otherwise our water supply will run out and we’ll have to trek to the lake for drinking water.
It doesn’t take very long for Amber’s presence to feel normal. Baby loves her at once. She wants to be near Amber all the time. I am a little jealous at first, but I get over it. Baby is Amber’s shadow and signs to her constantly; explaining this or that, or sometimes just telling her stories she’s made up. Amber likes to watch Baby sign, though sometimes I notice she zones out. Baby doesn’t
We set her up in the basement with the couch as her bed. I let her wear my clothes at first, but I eventually allow her to raid my mother’s closet. Amber is beside herself. My mom had good taste and bought expensive things, but I’d always thought of it as “middle-aged fashion.” Amber loves it all, especially the Dolce & Gabbana skirts and the DKNY jeans. That is another thing that shows we would not have been friends Before. I would not have been caught dead wearing designer anything. My dad always assumed it was because I shared his eco-sensibilities, that I would rather spend the money to plant a tree or save a whale. Truthfully not all my friends were as wealthy as we were and I didn’t want them to know how much money we had. I didn’t want them to think I was a snob, especially Sabrina.
It’s weird to see Amber wear my mother’s shirts or scarves, but I find it strangely comforting too. I’ve avoided going through my parents’ closet for years; mostly I stay away from their room altogether. It’s all too painful, but giving Amber free range of my mother’s things breaks that spell.
After Amber picks out her new wardrobe, I show her the rooftop garden and she gets to work at once, which I am grateful for. The garden is a chore I never enjoyed, even though I recognize the need for fresh vegetables. Amber seems to know what she is doing and I leave her to it. She likes to be up on the roof, especially during the day. She comes downstairs, sunburned and glowing. Three years without any sunlight is a long time.
At first, I am afraid to leave her alone with Baby. I imagine every horrible thing that can happen. Amber accidentally letting Them inside. Amber convincing Baby to eat some questionable canned food. Amber letting it all get to her and going crazy, maybe trying to end her own life and not caring who she hurts in the process.
All these thoughts rumble around in my head while I watch Amber playing with Baby, eating our food, doing her chores. I pay close attention to how she interacts with Baby and even check on her when she’s sleeping. She curls on the basement couch, mouth open, breathing loudly. I’m glad we set her up downstairs because if she were in one of the upstairs bedrooms, her snores would bring Them.
After about a week, I start to relax. Amber doesn’t seem like she is on the verge of a nervous breakdown, in fact she is making an incredible effort, especially with Baby. Sometimes she looks out the window, staring at nothing. She was abandoned by her brother. I’d be a little depressed too.
I don’t know when it is exactly that I start to like Amber, but one day, I just do. It’s nice to have someone around who is about my age. She takes such pleasure in our life, in our home. She sits and watches the dishwasher run. She helps Baby make a pillow fort. She plucks a pigeon without complaint. I am especially glad that she gets the hint after that first night and stops talking. Well, mostly stops talking. We speak to her in a broken language: Amber sleep now , or Amber go up, eat now .
She understands more each day. Baby and I sign in front of her, trying to let her see as much as she can so she can learn to communicate with us. I show her which appliances are “safe” and which can only be used if all the doors and windows are shut, to lessen the noise. She falls in love with the shower and I have to limit her to only ten minutes a day, unless it is raining. Otherwise our water supply will run out and we’ll have to trek to the lake for drinking water.
It doesn’t take very long for Amber’s presence to feel normal. Baby loves her at once. She wants to be near Amber all the time. I am a little jealous at first, but I get over it. Baby is Amber’s shadow and signs to her constantly; explaining this or that, or sometimes just telling her stories she’s made up. Amber likes to watch Baby sign, though sometimes I notice she zones out. Baby doesn’t
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