We can't keep her, can we?
She can't stay here, can she?
My second night sleep there was surprising very restful; best I've had since back in my own bed, in fact. Both Miles and I woke bright and early the next day. I stretched my arms high above me while he cracked his back. He never complained about sleeping on the floor, but I still knew it was a sacrifice for my comfort. I wouldn't forget that…..
Miles woke me up the next morning, and we headed back to that tiny upstairs kitchen for some breakfast. He had milk, toast, and some fruit while I had some boiled black tea and toast. The tea tasted terrible, but it better than nothing; at least I felt safe drinking it. We ate in relative silence but we weren't up there long. As soon as we were done, Miles escorted me back downwards to this office-like room on the main floor. I was surprised but not shocked to see Noir and Parker already waiting for us inside. While Noir shot me a smile, Parker immediately sneered in my direction. In the centre of the room was this tall, two-person square wooden table with one stool.
I guess this was part-two of my interrogation.
On the one wall opposite us in the room were an array of old cans. They weren't old in this era, but I recognized some of the labels. Suddenly grinning to myself, I kinda forgot about the interrogation as I marvelled at them excitedly. This was one of those good moments where you actually remember that you've travelled back in time- in the good sort of way.
All three men blinked at me perplexed, then over to the wall I was currently looking at. My intrigue didn't last long, however, as Parker rolled his eyes, reaching his broad hand over to grab hold of my sleeve. My eyes widened startled as he dragged me over to the stool, practically thrusting me onto it. "Come on. Let's get this over with," he hissed under his breath. I think Noir and Miles's first instinct was to say something, but they forced themselves to refrain. The only one who seemed upset in the room was Parker, like he was already a hundred and ten precent done with the nonsense that is "I".
He slammed down this old-timey map of New York down in front of me, keeping his open palm planted in the dead centre. He snarled again. "Alright, no more games. Show us exactly where you come from in this god-forsaken city," he ordered harshly before lifting his hand up, folding his arms across his chest. I looked down at the map and my face instantly flushed.
So many roads and buildings that didn't exist anymore! I couldn't read this thing; I didn't even know where this warehouse was, let alone where my apartment complex existed- or would exist. There were just endless lines and scribbles, most of which I couldn't make out the writing of. But I knew a simple shrug wouldn't satisfy Parker, so I did my best to figure it out. I started by trying to find the Hudson and work my way from there.
Finding the Hudson river wasn't too challenging, but trying to navigate my way from there was. None of the locations were places I knew, save a few odd buildings. But I couldn't tell where Brooklyn began or if its borders had changed since the 1920s. Was "Brooklyn" even a thing back then? God, why did I have to study British history all throughout high school instead of American? I had no idea what I was doing! I wouldn't even begin to know how to find my old home or school… And as such, the nightmare resumed.
My expression must have been a sincerely terrified and baffled one, as Noir and Miles instantly raised their eyebrows; not in an upset way but more so comprehending the situation. It was Noir who spoke first, taking a step in my direction and lifting his right arm up slightly.
"Maybe she can't read." "Get lost! What kind of gal from the right side of the tracks is illiterate?" Parker barked back. "We don't know where she's from. She's real skinny; maybe her family couldn't afford to send her to school," Noir countered. If America was anything like Britain back in the prohibition era, then school must have been mandatory up until the age of fourteen. Maybe it was sixteen here? Or maybe it wasn't compulsory at this time at all? Perhaps Noir is referring to the sense in that I came from a poor farming family or something; the kind that couldn't afford to lose the child labour on the farm. Then again, we live in a city. Was child labour still allowed in factories back then? Jesus, if I'd known I'd ever be in a situation like this, I would have studies history from sun up to sun down.
I flinched at Parker's hand flying down, landing fixedly on the map's centre again. He wasn't glaring at me but at Noir; I guess he disapproved his attempts to help me. "Come on, Noir. Anyone can read a map." Uh, I can't; not that one anyway. My shoulders straightened up when he shot me another punishing glower. "We ain't got all day, chicky. Where'ya from?" Peering back down at the parchment again, I silently gulped to myself. Well I suppose it doesn't matter where I point to; no one will be there to verify who I am regardless. Still….. My balled hand rose up a little as I stared downward, desperately trying to think of a good way out of this.
That's when it hit me. I could use this… This could be my opportunity to escape. All I had to do was point them to some random place on the map. Miles wouldn't come with us; he'd likely leave it to Parker or Noir to escort me there. I could run away from them, once we were far enough away… My fingers pressed into the middle of my palm. But then what? Where would I go? What could I do? There's only nine more words left I could say. That wasn't enough to ask anyone for help, especially the crooked police. Staying here was a dangerous option, but I frankly wasn't sure if leaving was any safer.
As if my stomach had no concept of the right place or the right time, it began to twist- badly. Sitting there suddenly aching, I kept my eyes glued onto the page as my head started to race. I wonder if this is what it was like for Miles- my Miles- those first three days in the modern era. He must have been so scared and confused… He had no way of knowing that attitudes, while definitely not perfect, were better in the present. He didn't know if I'd ever want to see him again, or even where his next meal was coming from. He didn't know that alcohol had been made legal again… The poor guy. My bottom lip trembled as my eyes grew a tad watery in the corners. He must have been beyond terrified, and I never knew…
I never knew.
All their eyes grew in shock at the sudden, unexpected teardrop trickling down my cheek. Miles and Noir perked up in a flash and Parker looked horrified. "Oi! What's wrong with you? What're you cryin' for?" He shouted directly at me. "Stop yelling at her! See? I told you this was a bad idea. Now you've gone and frightened the poor girl," Noir intervened. "You got any better ideas?! How're we supposed to find out who she is if we don't know where she's from?" "Well this obviously isn't going to work, is it? She can't read maps, Peter!" "How do you know that?!" "Because I can see her!" "Yeah?! Well I think….!"
"Enough," Miles's voice filled the room for the first time. That got the both of them quiet; it was as if a switch had been flipped. Suddenly they were both silent and reverent, watching him as he approached the table. I meekly gazed up to see him standing on the opposite side, staring at me with deep, absorbing, calculating eyes. His balled-up hand rested on the tabletop, casually so. His eyes locked onto mine as my lips parted a sliver.
"You can't read the map, can you?" I shook my head. His own head lowered a tad upon seeing my reaction. "Are you from the city of New York?" He next asked, to which I shook my head a second time- slower this go around. I didn't want to lie to Miles, but really, this wasn't my city; this wasn't even my century. Saying that I was from here would just lead to more problems than it was worth. That's how I justified it to myself anyway.
Miles softened his gaze before turning back to his underlings. "That explains it; she's not from here." "Then where the hell's she from?!" Parker's arms threw up. "Maybe that doesn't matter," Noir suggested, earning a sharp glare from my interrogator. "What're ya sayin'? Course it matters. How are we supposed to let her go if we don't know anythin' about her?" Noir cracked a grin, tilting his head to the side cheekily. "Oh, I don't know. What if we just end up keeping her? She does bring some much-needed aesthetic appeal to the place, don't you think?" "Aesthe-what? Ugh, never mind. But are you insane?! We can't keep her 'round. She's a girl; not a pet."
Only then did Miles also crack a smile of his own. My eyes widened as his hand reached across the table to gently take hold of my chin. His own gaze shone down onto me in that instant, making my heart skip a beat. Nobody made a sound, waiting on pins and needles to hear what he'd say next. He pulled my chin a bit closer, letting his thumb and forefinger linger on my skin. "I dunno… She looks like a pretty good pet to me," he cooed and my jaw fell a little. His own grin widened curiously….. mischievously. "Women ain't allowed in my den. I won't tolerate any girlfriends and sweethearts distractin' my men….
But I never said nothin' about keepin' pets before."
