Robert never feels more absurdly rich then when he walks through Wally's apartment complex. The fact that she feels comfortable living here is a testament to where she grew up. Security lights on the sides of the buildings only half work, illuminating spray-painted tags. Two teenagers stare at him as he passes from where they sit on the curb, beer bottles between their hands.
"Hey!" A scrawny man scuttles up the stairs alongside him. "You're Bo's guy, yeah?"
Robert gives him a sideways look. He's more of a kid than anything, with a shock of ginger hair. "Yeah."
"Give her this for me, will you? I owe her one!" he claps a small baggy into Robert's hand.
Old habits shove the bag directly into his pocket. "Right."
"Thanks man!" he scrambles away down the landing, entering the apartment directly below Wally's.
Robert reaches the top of the cement stairs. Wally's door is shabby as all the rest, green paint peeling, the '3' askew. He doesn't bother knocking, just shoves it open, stepping into the main room.
A single lamp gives gold light to the room, casting the corners into shadow. Wally sits directly opposite the door at the round table, foot in her chair as she dabs at a cut on her knee. The other foot trails on the floor, resting on the threshold between peeling linoleum and musty carpet. The fridge buzzes loudly on to his right, audible even under the bass emanating from cheap speakers.
She glances up. "Lock that, will you?"
"What happened?" he slides the chain into place.
"Cut myself shaving. My hand was shaking."
"Hm." setting the bag of food down on the table, he grabs her knee, pulling it towards him as he sits. It's a slice more than a nick, perfectly horizontal just above her knee. Red wells, then fades as he dabs it, only to well again. "You sure?"
She eyes him. "It was a bad day, but not that bad."
"Speaking of-" he produces the baggie from his pocket. "Your neighbor sent this up for you."
"Sweet. Oh don't look at me like that," she snatches it away. "I didn't buy it. I stopped him from getting his assed kicked the other day." she sniffs. "Good shit."
"I thought you didn't smoke anymore. Here." he hands her a carton and chopsticks.
"Thanks. And I don't, but I'm not gonna turn down a free eighth. Or whatever these are." she flicks at the two white pills on top of the weed. "Rainy day."
"Keep the weed," Robert says through a full mouth. "Throw out the pills. What did you want to talk about?"
She's slumping in her chair, one foot in his lap, hair wet. At his words, she flushes. There are few people in the world whose face gives them away like Wally. "Nothing, it's stupid." she shakes her head, taking another bite of noodles.
He shrugs. "Okay." and waits. After she swallows, she speaks.
"I'm just…I dunno. Confused? Irritated? Both? Because I really don't know where we stand. And not - this isn't about me. It's mostly about Winnie." Her thoughts come out half-formed in times like this. "I just - I just thought you wanted to be involved and that's why I let you meet her but now. It's like you ignore her, you know? Like, you don't really look at her or talk to her and you only come over when she's asleep and I just don't know." She's been speaking to her take-out, but now she risks glancing upwards. He's looking away, rubbing his chin as he thinks, mouth open as if trying to push words out.
"I'm worried that she'll end up like Molly if I have anything to do with her."
Wally freezes for a moment, then slowly, deliberately, sets her food on the table and slides onto the floor. The linoleum is cold under her bare knees, but she kneels by him and lays her cheek on his thigh. They sit like that for a long time before she sits up, taking his hand. Tears stain her face, and threaten his eyes.
"I don't know," she says carefully. "What you did to deserve being stuck with such guilt."
"Come here." He needs her closer, needs her to sit on his lap, to hide his face in her skin. "I don't even think my father's seen her in years."
"I'm so sorry," she whispers into his hair. "I'm so sorry." It's the one permanent thing in her heart: loosing a sibling you've tried to take care of. But even she doesn't know if she could deal with having one alive, just gone.
"But that wasn't you, Robert," she murmurs. "You did everything you could. You couldn't've controlled everything. She learned from your mother how to deal with her problems, that wasn't on you."
"But-"
"Mummy." Winnie appears in the entrance hallway, clutching her rag doll. Her face is less flushed, her eyes brighter. "I'm hungry."
Wally slides off of Robert's lap, giving a watery chuckle as she wipes her eyes. "Are you lovey? Well that's good. Come on, sit down. I'll make you some soup."
For the first time he thinks to ask her, as she hops into Wally's abandoned chair, what her doll's name is.
"Dorothy." Doh-ty.
"Dorothy? That's a pretty name."
"Because Dorothy left Oz too."
He turns to look at Wally, standing at the stove; she shrugs. "What can I say? The kid's got a knack for homophones."
He just shakes his head, feeling oddly in awe.