Chapter 5
Damien sits at his dinner table with his head in his hands. One lamp dimly illuminates the kitchen. The old wooden table is spread out with papers: taxes, receipts, calculations. In a small dish amongst it all is Pepsi. She licks at a droplet of water Damien has put in for her. He stares at her with bleary eyes. He gently reaches in a finger to pet her, but stops, just short of her. He can't do it. She's just too fragile, and his hand trembles too much. He puts his hands on his face instead and sighs heavily.
“I’ll get you back girl,” he whispers. “We have enough money saved up. I’ll get you back to normal on Monday. Things will be tight around here, but… you’re the only thing keeping me sane lately.” He laughs silently, and tries not to sob.
Chapter 6
Damien drops a handful of diced green peppers into the cast iron frying pan where it crackles in bacon grease. Through the kitchen window he watches Pepsi, full size again, romp around in the dewy grass. “What else?” he asks, chewing a strip of bacon.
The frying pan had been used for two generations, along with the discolored cutlery, stove, kettle, and everything else in the kitchen. The flower print drapes are the same flower print drapes from Damien’s childhood. The small chandelier above them is thick with dust and the pastel green paint on the walls is starting to flake off, and the wooden cupboards are mostly empty. It still smells like ground coffee though.
“Onions. Mom always put onions in the omelette,” Paige says. She has the same face as Damien, complete with sunken cheeks and tired eyes. Her sand-colored hair is long and uncombed. She sits slumped at the island table of the kitchen in a loose t-shirt and shorts. Her arms are thin and freckled.
Damien opens the old fridge and studies its innards. “You’ve lost weight,” he says. “You don’t look so good.”
“You look as bad as me,” she says. “Maybe worse. Except now you’re smaller than me.”
His eyes drift upward for a moment, and he sighs quietly. Eventually he opens a drawer in the fridge and pulls out a plastic bag with half an onion inside. He sets it on the table and begins cutting. “Have you had any more… episodes? Since you moved in?” he asks gently.
Paige sits silently, unmoving. Damien looks at her, but her hair hides her face from his angle. The sound of the knife hitting the chopping board fills the room. It’s in sync with the loud ticking of the grandfather clock in the living room. “No,” she says, finally.
Damien drops the onions into the pan, and then breaks several eggs into a bowl. “No lost time… no waking up in the middle of nowhere with no shoes and no memory?” he says, whisking the eggs.
“No,” Paige mumbles.
Damien pours the eggs into the pan and then climbs up onto the stool next to his sister. She’s about a foot and a half taller than him now. He stares out the kitchen window with his hands in his lap.
“I hate it here,” Paige says quietly.
Damien looks at her, eyebrows raised slightly. “What?”
“It’s different now. You know what I mean. Everything.”
Damien looks out the window again. “Yeah,” he says, sighing. “It must be better than the hospital though, right?”
Paige doesn’t respond.
Damien frowns and stands up. He finishes grabs the frying pan and slides some of the omelette out onto a plate in front of Paige. The pan is so heavy to his new form that he has to use both hands to hold it now.
“Damien,” she says. “Did you cook this in bacon grease?”
“Isn’t that how mom did it?”
“Yes. But I’m a vegetarian now, remember?”
Chapter 7
“Paige?” Damien waits for a reply, but the house is silent tonight, except for the buzzing of the fridge. He goes to Paige’s room and finds the door ajar. Usually it’s closed. He peers inside, but she’s not there. Her room is left in typical state: floor covered almost entirely with piles of clothing, the closet wide open and practically empty. Books and papers are scattered everywhere. Her laptop is open on her bed, blinking at nothing.
As he goes back through the living room, Damien stops. The front door is also ajar. Moths flutter in the entrance hall around the ceiling light. He hurries to the porch and looks out. After a moment his eyes adjust and, scanning the road, he sees her. “Paige!” he shouts, and runs toward her.
She’s standing alone in the distance, outside the gates of Jacqueline’s driveway. Her slight form is barely illuminated, but her loose grey sweater stands out in the dark.
Damien continues to shout her name as he rushes nearer. He slows to a walk when he gets close. She’s wearing black tights, and her green converse high-tops are untied. “Paige,” he says breathlessly, “are you okay? What are you…”
She stares blankly through the gates, unmoving.
“Paige? Hey-” Damien says as he reaches up a hand to touch his sister’s shoulder.
She shrieks in alarm at his touch. Her eyes go wild. “Who are you?” she demands.
“P-Paige, it’s me! Damien!”
“Who are you?!” she screams, backing away from the small man.
“Paige! Please!” Damien says.
“Get away from me you little freak!” Paige says, and smashes her foot into his face.
Damien squawks in pain and collapses backward, clutching his nose. He curls up on the pavement. There’s a long moment where Paige simply stands there staring and Damien simply lies on the cool ground, mewling.
“D...Damien?” Paige says quietly. She steps close to him cautiously. “Oh… fuck…”
Blood spittling from his lips, Damien gasps. His nose and upper lip are covered in red. Paige kneels beside her brother, and awkwardly puts a hand on his little shoulder. He begins to sob silently, his small body heaving.
“… Sorry,” Paige says.
Damien takes a trembling sigh to steady his voice. He stares upward for a moment, lips twitching. An oak tree rustles in the night breeze nearby. “I think I’m going to lose my job,” he says finally.
“What?”
“They’re going to replace me with a computer. At the office. ”
Paige looks away, hiding her expression in the dark. She puts her hand over her mouth. Damien grips her other hand, but she doesn’t turn around.