don’t really know anything about him or why he doesn’t have a place to live. I
would just ask him, but I’m not sure if he really trusts me yet. He seems to have
trust issues and I guess I can’t blame him.
I’m worried about him. It started getting really cold this week and it’s
supposed to be even colder next week. If he doesn’t have electricity, that means
he doesn’t have a heater. I hope he at least has blankets. Do you know how
awful I would feel if he froze to death? Pretty freaking awful, Ellen.
I’ll find some blankets this week and give them to him.
—Lily
Dear Ellen,
It’s going to start snowing soon so I decided to harvest my garden today. I
had already pulled the radishes so I just wanted to put some mulch and
compost down, which wouldn’t have taken me long, but Atlas insisted on
helping.
He asked me a lot of questions about gardening and I liked that he seemed
interested in my interests. I showed him how to lay the compost and mulch to
cover the ground so that the snow wouldn’t do too much damage. My garden is
small compared to most gardens. Maybe ten feet by twelve feet. But it’s all my
dad will let me use of the backyard.
Atlas covered the whole thing while I sat cross-legged in the grass and
watched him. I wasn’t being lazy, he just took over and wanted to do it so I let
him. I can tell he’s a hard worker. I wonder if maybe keeping himself busy takes
his mind off of things and that’s why he always wants to help me so much.
When he was finished, he walked over and dropped down next to me on the
grass.
“What made you want to grow things?” he asked.
I glanced over at him and he was sitting cross-legged, looking at me
curiously. I realized in that moment that he’s probably the best friend I’ve ever
had, and we barely know anything about each other. I have friends at school,
but they’re never allowed to come over to my house for obvious reasons. My
mother is always worried something might happen with my father and word
might get out about his temper. I also never really get to go to other people’s
houses but I’m not sure why. Maybe my father doesn’t want me staying over at
friends’ houses because I might witness how a good husband is supposed to
treat his wife. He probably wants me to believe the way he treats my mother is
normal.