Chapter 78: The Weary Descent
The bench creaked as Rosa finally stood. Roy felt the shift through her collarbone, the way her muscles tightened as she found her balance. She didn't speak, just pressed two fingers against his back, a small reassurance that he could feel through the worn cotton of his vest.
Jason stirred in her collar, lifting his head. "We going down?"
"Yeah." Rosa's voice was quiet, still carrying the rawness of the rooftop conversation. "Sandy's got breakfast going. I can smell it from here."
Roy turned on her shoulder, looking back at the garden one last time. The morning sun caught the decaying vines, turning them briefly gold. Then Rosa started for the stairwell door, and the garden fell behind them.
The stairwell swallowed the light. Concrete walls echoed their footsteps, and Roy gripped the edge of Rosa's collar as she took the first flight. She moved slower than usual, her boots heavy on each riser. The confession from the rooftop still hung between them, not an accusation but a shared weight. Roy pressed his palm flat against her throat, feeling her pulse. Steady, but quick.
They passed the third floor landing. Jason shifted against Rosa's skin, his voice warm. "You okay?"
"Fine." The word came automatic, softened by the way she looked down at him. "Just thinking."
Roy watched her face from his angle, catching the line of her jaw, the way she held her mouth. She wasn't fine. But she was moving, and that counted for something.
The second floor landing smelled like onions and something baking. Roy's stomach turned, a reminder that he'd eaten little since the day before. Rosa paused at the door, her hand on the push bar. Through the gap beneath the door, light spilled onto the stairs in a long, dusty rectangle.
"Ready?" she asked.
Roy nodded against her throat. She pushed through.
The kitchen was warm. Steam rose from a pot on the stove where Sandy stood, stirring with a wooden spoon that had seen better days. Her pigtails were tied back with leather cord, and she turned as the door banged against its stop, a smile blooming across her freckled face.
"There you are." She set the spoon down on a cracked ceramic rest. "I was starting to think you'd moved up there permanently."
Rosa crossed to the kitchen table, lowering herself onto a chair with a sigh that came from deep in her chest. Roy scrambled from her collar onto the tabletop, Jason following close behind. Up close, the table was a landscape of scratches and scorch marks, the wood worn smooth from years of hands and elbows.
"Just needed some air," Rosa said. It wasn't a lie. Just a smaller truth, shaped to fit in the mouth.
Sandy studied her for a moment, her green eyes keen behind her glasses. Roy watched the exchange, the way Rosa looked away first. Sandy didn't push. She just turned back to the stove, lifting the pot's lid to check whatever was inside.
"It's stew," she said. "Canned tomatoes, some dried beef, potatoes Lee found in the basement. Nothing fancy, but it'll stick to your ribs."
Roy sat on the table's edge, Jordan's tiny body pressing against his side. Through the tabletop he could feel Rosa's forearm resting near them, close enough to touch. He reached out, laying his small hand on her wrist.
"Rosa." Sandy's voice carried from the stove, soft and careful. "You alright?"
The question sat in the kitchen air, waiting. Roy watched Rosa's throat work, watched her consider the answer she'd give. The moments stretched like taffy.
"Getting there," Rosa said finally. "That count?"
Sandy's smile didn't waver. "It's a start."