I thought pancakes were just a thing parents and big sisters knew how to make. I was wrong. As I sat at the table across from my mom, I realized that she was a failure at cooking. It made me wonder what had possessed her to try and cook pancakes for breakfast if she knew she couldn't do it.
She gave me an apologetic smile and wiped her hands on a towel. "Sorry, hun. I guess I'm a bit out of practice."
"That's okay. I can make something for myself." I wiggled around and pushed myself off the chair. I had been home alone enough times to know where things were and how to use the stove without anyone watching over me so this wasn't a big deal. I could feel mom's eyes on me as I cracked an egg into a pan. She must have been surprised. I was a little kid and, as far as I knew, little kids year olds didn't fry their own eggs. That's what parents did. We weren't supposed to use the stove, we were supposed to ask someone to make us something. That's, at least, what TV told me.
I put the finished egg on some toast and went back to the table, climbing up into the chair. She was smiling like she was so proud of me for making an egg all on my own. I smiled back, just a little, before starting to eat. About half way through it, she pushed her chair back and stood up. I could guess what was coming next.
"I have to go to work, sweetie. Will you be okay on your own?" She came over to pat my head and I nodded, looking down at my egg. This happened almost every day. She probably wouldn't come home tonight either.
Mom hummed and started towards the door, grabbing her jacket and keys from the end table, and called back an "I love you" just before the door clicked. I sighed and swung my legs under the table. Why couldn't she stay home with me instead of going to her job just for today?
Feeling like I couldn't eat the rest of my breakfast, I took it to the sink and set it on the counter. I could clean up after myself later. Right now, I wanted to go back to bed and wake up only when mom got back home. It was lonely in the house. I didn't want to feel lonely anymore.
[/u\]
There was a lot of noise going on downstairs when I woke up. I looked at my clock and knew it was too early for mom to be home again. Panic rose up in my chest as I squirmed my way out of my bed. I hadn't locked the door after she left. If anything happened it would be all my fault. I had to take care of it. I went into the hallway and crept down to the open kitchen door.
There were a number of things I would have expected to see ranging from a stray animal to a robber but I wasn't expecting to see someone standing there with an apron on trying to cook. They were tall but kind of tiny. I probably could have put my arms around them twice if I wanted to.
Their head turned as I stepped forward, the floor creaking slightly under my weight. I quickly put myself behind the door and just barely peeked out to look at them. This whole thing was weird. People didn't just show up in the kitchen and start cooking. This town was weird but that was just something that hadn't happened. It wasn't like the fairies who took loose buttons or the tiny bearded men who stole pies of the windowsill. It was stranger than anything this town had thrown my way.
"Who are you?" I asked with a squeak, feeling around for something I could hit them with. If I was lucky I would find an umbrella or my old boots, something sturdy enough to chase him away with. They just smiled, showing off fangs like none I had seen before.
"I'm your new caretaker, kid. Think of me like a nanny or something."
I eyed him suspiciously, fingers brushing the handle of one of the umbrellas. "Mom didn't say anything about this."
"It was supposed to be a big surprise. It was going to happen later today but she had to work so I came in earlier. The name's Bill." He started to walk toward me, wiping his hands on the apron. I gripped a little harder on the handle and got ready to swing at him if he came any closer than I wanted.
Bill stopped a few feet away from the door and crouched down to my level, resting his arms on his legs. I could see that his eyes were inhumanly blue. They were so bright and pure that it made me uneasy. It was like looking at a crystal clear lake. Suddenly, he extended one of his hands.
"I'll be working with you from now on. Please treat me well, little Grace." He smiled again as I reached out and just barely took a hold of his hand, still holding the umbrella in the other. I wasn't going to trust him until he gave me a good reason to, but I had to admit that the idea of this all was nice. It was always so quiet in the house and if someone else was here, I wouldn't be lonely.
He let go and stood back up, going to the counters again. I followed, putting the umbrella on a chair and wiggling my way up into the one next to it. He poured whatever he had mixed into a pan and put it in the oven. Seeing somebody else cook in the kitchen was a little weird, since it rarely happened, and the lack of mess was sort of amazing. My dishes from earlier weren't even there anymore.
I tried to guess how long I'd been sleeping but realized it couldn't have been much more than an hour. It wasn't even nine o'clock yet. That was normal since I had slept a lot the night before but it was still a bit off to me. It felt like I'd been sleeping a lot longer than that.
"So, kid. I hear you're turning eight today." A jolt ran through me as I looked up to him. He leaned against the counter tops, waiting for some sort of sign that I heard him. I gave a short nod, fiddling with my thumbs.
"That's a pretty big occasion. How do you want to celebrate it? We can go get ice cream when this cake comes out of the oven. Or you can invite your friends over and have a little party."
"I don't have any friends," I said quietly. "If I had friends, I wouldn't be alone all the time."
The room went silent for a minute, everything lingering in the air. Birds chirped outside and the wind rustled the tree leaves, but there wasn't any noise in the room. Not until Bill pushed off the counter and walked over to me. He patted my head, giving that same smile he had been the whole time, maybe with a little more sympathy than before.
"Now you have me, so you're not alone."
Tears sprung up in my eyes and I bit my lip. It would be stupid to cry right now. Only babies cried and I was eight now. I wasn't a baby. But it made me happy, thinking that I wouldn't be alone anymore. Somebody was here with me. Over everything else, even my little distrust of him, that's what stuck out. I wasn't alone. I reached up and wiped my eyes on my arm, hiding behind it until I was sure the tears weren't going to come out. Then I nodded a little.
"I'm not alone now," I muttered. He ruffled my hair, making it messier than it already was, and laughed a little.
"Exactly. So, what's your favorite kind of ice cream? I tend to lean more towards vanilla but you seem like the kind of girl who appreciates a good chocolate flavor…"