Chapter 8

Cage was ecstatic. He suggested that we inform Madame Rook first thing in the morning. We shared a victory cheers of cheap wine and he showed me around the relatively unfurnished apartment. Two bedrooms, one bathroom, living room combined with the kitchen, the cheap card table as the partition. I wasn't completely okay with the idea of living alone with him and was relieved when he mentioned his “Soul Mate”. That, and I asked him to just please call me Jet, no more of that little sister stuff. It made me feel like I was in a Bob Dylan record or something. He laughed, not offended in the least, and agreed to call me Just Jet. I was giddy with the prospect of hope, and we chattered, laughing together about random thoughts and things that we had experienced, like me thinking about all the idiots who would literally starve to look like me, for about an hour. He had just suggested a game of go fish when the door burst open and two girls, jittery with the cold, bustled inside.
The girl who entered first made a beeline towards Cage, greeting him with a brief but warm kiss. Her pale face was flushed from the wind outside and her shoulder-length blonde hair was tousled She was grinning widely, and pulled out two tiny zip-lock baggies to wave in front of his face.
“I scored big today, babe!” she said excitedly, pulling him into a loose embrace and planting another kiss on him. He smiled at her, his face lighting up.
The other girl was hanging back in the doorway studying me. Her skin was the majestic brown of an autumn leaf mid-flight, and she toyed with one of her long, dark dreadlocks as she held herself closely with the cold. However, she refused to shut the door behind her until we were properly introduced and knew whether or not she could trust me.
Cage noticed and beckoned her inside.
“A new addition to the family,” he explained. “who is Just Jet.” Cages mouth was covered once again by the blonde girl's and the girl by the door finally shut it hesitantly. She walked towards me, her eyes steadily roaming me, and offered her hand. I took it, a little self-consciously.
“I'm Eros.” she told me. Then she did something that I'll never forget. She pulled me into a tight embrace and kissed my left cheek. I could feel myself blush, and the imprint of her lips stayed warm on my skin, lingering until I was startled by the blonde girl's introduction.
“I'm Dyce.” she informed me with a warm smile, although her hand stayed draped around Cage's waist. I said some sort of hello, waving weakly as I watched Eros from the corner of my eye curiously. I realized that she had been doing the same thing and I quickly looked toward Cage and Dyce for some sort of direction.
“If I'm not mistaken, Jet will be staying a while,” Cage announced, sensing my tension. “so it looks like Eros has a new roomie.” He looked at Eros, who nodded.
“Do you have any things?” Eros asked me. I gestured toward the card table where Tanner was sprawled, and thought of the suitcase that I had left at The Garden.
“We'll get the rest tomorrow,” Cage assured me, as though he were reading my mind. I nodded, feeling suddenly very vulnerable. Social conduct had never been my strong point.
“Come on,” Eros said gently. “I'll show you our room.” She took my hand and tugged, urging me silently along behind her. It was across the hall from the room Dyce and Cage shared, and in the doorway were wooden juju beads tied aside for an opening. I complimented them and she grinned.
“I always wanted them when I was little,” she told me, “so that's the first thing I asked from the 'mother'.” She said “mother” with finger quotations.
The first thing I noticed about the room were the sketch pads and magazine clippings and art supplies scattered all over the floor in complete chaos. Then I noticed the pieces of cardboard painted extravagantly and hung with meticulous care over the peeling, faded, robin's-egg-blue wallpaper.
“I'm going to be an artist when I get my GED.” she said with a glimmer in her eyes. “An artist can make anything beautiful- they don't need paint or anything, just themselves.”
I smiled, nodding, taken aback by the thought of beauty in the world after being so convinced that it was out solely to break me. I turned my thoughts back to Eros, who was patting the futon couch, where she obviously slept, so that I would sit beside her. I took care not to step on any of the stray paper or colored pencils, grateful when I successfully made it to the futon without destroying something important to her creative expression. She obviously wasn't used to having guests.
She asked me all about myself, drawing me out of my shell with little provocation. Her manner was light and easy, making me feel instantly comfortable with her. She wanted to know what I thought I could do with my life and if I had any special niche. I told her the same thing I told Madame Rook. Not that I knew of, and I still wasn't comfortable letting myself dream about becoming a valuable member of society. She smiled sadly at this, kind of bowing her head as though she inwardly understood what I meant, although she wouldn't admit it out loud. Instead she just said that a life without dreams, without vision, is a life of misery.
I couldn't argue.
She went on to say that if I wanted, she could clear me off a spot on the floor where I could sleep, or we could share the bed. She didn't recommend the floor though. There were rats. And the rats had fleas. And the fleas carried the bubonic plague. And I didn't want the plague did I?
So that was the first night I spent with Eros, the first night in a millennium that I had a pillow and a blanket. The first night in an eternity that my feet weren't cold.