Satisfy Me

Suzzie Gravel scattered under the tires as the car rolled to a stop. I pushed the door open before Papa finished parking and stepped out into the late air. Mama was already calling instructions to the men with the truck. Helena climbed out after me, suitcase in one hand, and looked at the white house with a small smile. “Well,” she said, “it’s bigger than the last one. You’ll get lost in here.” Papa shut the driver’s door. “We’re here. Try not to disappear before we unpack.” I spun once on the driveway just to feel the space, then stopped when Mama shot me a look. Boxes waited in stacks on the porch. The front door stood open. I stuck close to Helena while the men started unloading, their boots loud on the steps. She set her suitcase down and nudged my shoulder with hers. “A few days,” she said. “Then I’m gone again. You knew that, right?” “I know.” I bounced once on my toes. “You always say it like I might forget.” “Because you pretend you forget so I’ll stay longer.” She raised an eyebrow, waiting. I grinned and didn’t deny it. We walked the side of the house while Mama directed the men and Papa spoke to someone about the keys. The property ran back toward a thicker line of trees. I kept glancing that way. “Curious already?” Helena asked. “Maybe.” “You’ll have time to look later. Don’t wander off today or your mother will make me responsible.” Inside, the hallway felt large. I ran my hand along the wall as we climbed the stairs. Helena helped carry the smaller bags to the room at the end of the hall. The window faced the side yard. Through the branches I could see the corner of another roof. “Neighbours,” I said. “Papa mentioned them. Don’t go introducing yourself until you’re invited.” Helena sat on the bare mattress and gave it a test bounce. “This’ll do. You’ll get used to it.” “Will you write me?” “Do I ever not?” She tugged the end of my braid the way she always did. I leaned into it, smiling. “Every week. And you write back, or I’ll fly home just to scold you.” Downstairs Mama called us to the kitchen. A basket of bread and fruit sat on the counter with a note. Papa read it aloud while we stood there. “They welcomed us and hope we’ll come for drinks once we’re settled.” Mama hummed, already arranging the fruit. “That was kind of them.” I watched Papa fold the note and slip it into his pocket. “Do we have to go?” “Not today,” he said. “First we make this place look like someone lives here.” Helena stayed through the meal and the first boxes. She laughed when one nearly tipped me over and caught the edge before it could fall. “Careful, small menace. I leave soon. I don’t want to leave you under a pile of your own clothes.” I stuck my tongue out at her and she stuck hers right back. We moved from room to room after that. I talked more than usual, pointing at empty corners and asking where the books would go, where my desk would sit, whether the window seat in the hall was mine. Helena answered some questions and deflected others with a shrug or a quiet “we’ll see.” When the light outside deepened she checked the time and sighed. “I should sleep. Early flight.” I walked her to the guest room slower than I needed to. She noticed and didn’t comment, only left the door open a crack. “Go on,” she said. “I’m not vanishing tonight.” I went to my own room, sat on the bare mattress, and looked out the window. A single light was on somewhere beyond the trees. I watched it for a long time, swinging my legs, already wondering who lived over there and whether any of them were close to my age. The house settled around us in small sounds. Mama’s footsteps downstairs. Papa’s low voice on the phone. The soft click of Helena’s door closing the rest of the way. I kept my eyes on that distant light until it felt like the only fixed thing in the new place.