Page 23 of Toy No More

“You’re early!”

“You’re…painting,” I note, raising my brows excitedly. After locking up, I undress and lazily walk into the living room. There’s a pot of food sitting on the stove. “And you cooked as well. Having a good day today?”

Marci nods with the most energetic expression I’ve seen from her in weeks. “Yes, dear. Once in a blue moon, evenIget a day when I actually feel like a regular human being with the standard factory settings. Or at least Ithinkit felt something like this. A chronic illness does have a sneaky way of moving that goalpost…” She waves her brush excitedly while I sit on the couch.

I’m so happy to see her like this.

The door to Skyler’s room is cracked open. It sounds like he’s playing some game.

“You told Hannah to leave early?”

Marci focuses on her canvas for a moment, before nodding. “Figured I would take advantage of having energy and give the girl some time off. Skyler and I went to the park after school. He played football with some kids there. He did pretty well,” she says in a beaming tone.

I smile, even if sadness presses against my chest.I wish I could’ve been there.“That’s good to hear,” I say, tilting my head. “What are you painting, anyway?”

“Well, how about you have a look instead of sitting there?” Marci glares at me with a playful frown. “While you’re at it, you can have some of the food I cooked. I doubt you feed yourself properly when you’re out working all day.”

I get up and walk around her to see. Marci hasn’t painted in a while. The migraines, dry eyes, and light sensitivity she’s been struggling with, on top of the general fatigue common with her condition, haven’t made it easy for her to pursue her passion and her craft. Still, it’s obvious she’s a professionally trained artist with a ton of experience when I'm presented with the beautiful scenery of what looks like Hill Park, just with fewer gray, shitty buildings in the background and more vivid, dreamy colors. There’s a beginning of a figure, not yet rendered, in the middle.

“Wow. Going out really inspired you, hm?” I ask, putting my hand on her shoulder gently. “You haven’t lost your touch.”

Marci snorts, as if offended, and pokes me between my ribs with the wooden tip of the brush. “Of course I haven’t!” Her laughter brightens the room and makes my heart swell. It’s almost like that unattainable, whimsical image I keep trying to reach. The end of the road, the resolution of all of this crushing, soul-tainting labor. The three of us happy and secure and safe. Laughing, spending time together, living life carelessly.

That’s all I want in the world. My only purpose here is to achieve that for us.

“Hey.” I blink when she grabs my cheeks, furrowing her brows. “What’s with that expression? I know you keep saying your work is none of my business, but you have to promise me you’re not pushing yourself too hard, okay?” she asks, narrowing her eyes in suspicion.

I look to the side. “I’m good. And I should get some more free time soon. It’s just the probationary period. I gotta show my best self.”

Marci chuckles and gently pushes my chin so I face her. At first, I think she’s being playful, but the smile freezes on my lips when I notice her unusually serious expression. “You might think I’m stupid,” she says, lowering her voice, “but I know damn well that whatever you’re doing to make this money isn’t legal.”

I clench my fists almost subconsciously and want to retort with something like I always do when she tries to breach this subject, but her sharp, concerned glare makes me pause.

“Don’t.I’m not asking you about it or…scolding you. Just promise you won’t do anything that puts you at risk, okay?” Marci takes my hand, placing it on her chest and squeezing it. I dart my eyes across her face tensely. “All this money you’re making…we don’t need it more than we need you, do you understand? The medicine, the teachers, all of it won’t matter if something happens to you. The money means nothing if you’re dead or in prison like your mother.”

I feel a sharp tingling rise in my throat, so I swallow and blink. Nodding, I look away because Marci bringing up the things I try to ignore everyday rattles me. “I’ll g-get some food,” I mutter, heading to the kitchen.

Behind me, she sighs, then grabs her brush again and continues painting. I hope I haven’t completely ruined her inspiration.

The stew she made smells heavenly. Same one Mom used to make. Marci probably gave her the recipe in the first place. A long time ago, when they were inseparable childhood friends, family in all but blood, happy and healthy…

I close my eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath.Focus on what’s important.

With a bowl of food in my hand, I go to Skyler’s room. I knock and wait for a response. The soundtrack of whatever game he’s playing pauses, followed by a sort of huff to let me know I can come in.

Skyler’s room…is a mess. Nothing unusual there. The judgment is probably a little too strong on my face since he snorts and rolls his eyes at me from his bed. “You’re home… Did you come to moan at me for not cleaning up in here again?” he asks, sounding fed up but not entirely pissed off. He’s just taking my absence out on me again.Fair play, I guess.While keeping his space organized is one of the many things he still struggles with, I know that right now isn’t the time to deal with it.

I come closer and sit on the edge of his bed. “I’m not,” I say softly, hoping he lets me off. “I just want to eat my dinner and chill with my little brother. Can I? What are you playing?”

Narrowing his eyes as much as he can with his pronounced skin folds covering the inner corners of them, he purses his lips and cocks a brow in a pretend show of indecisiveness. Unfortunately for him, I already know by the way the left corner of his mouth keeps riding up that he’s just wanting me to suffer and sweat a bit.

“Julio Kart,” he says finally, turning to his game again and pushing himself to sit up straight. It’s an invitation. I shimmy up next to him, resting against the wall and pressing our shoulders together.

“I’m so bad. My hands won’t listen to me,” he mutters.

“Your score isn’t too bad. Come on, show me. I’m sure I can help you.”

Skyler jerks the console away from me with a smirk. “You’re just going to start playing by yourself and make me watch like when I was little!”

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