No Shelter Left novel · Chapter 2 of 24

Chapter 2: Takeout and Tears

In the room above a laundromat Aisling's money is frozen and Kaitlyn arrives with food and tears. By morning Kaitlyn's video of the song has gone up and the number reads 336.

The room above Pearl Street Wash and Fold smelled like hot lint and lemon soap.

Aisling had rented it two months ago, in cash, under the name Mae Lark. She had told no one in her family.

It had a mattress on the floor, a hot plate and a window that looked at the back of a tire shop.

Under her feet, a row of dryers thumped.

She sat on the mattress with her laptop on her knees and counted what she had.

Two hundred and fourteen dollars in a coffee tin. A phone with eleven missing calls from Colby.

Her bank app showed a gray banner where her balance used to be.

It said: This account is under review by the primary holder.

The primary holder was her brother. For two years every dollar she earned had gone into an account he opened for her and told her not to worry about.

Her phone buzzed again.

It said: Come home. Accounts stay frozen until you apologize.

A second text came: I'm your brother, Aisling.

She turned the phone face down.

She pushed up her sleeve. The numbers glowed pale blue in the dark of the room.

366 DAYS.

It was a few minutes before midnight. She did not know yet what moved the number or what it was counting toward, but she knew this one fact: this morning it had gone up when she walked out.

A knock came at the door, soft and quick.

Aisling stood still.

"Aisling? It's me."

She opened the door.

Kaitlyn stood on the landing in a long-sleeved sweater with a paper bag held against her chest. Her eyes were red.

"I'm sorry," Kaitlyn said. "Colby has the family location app on all our phones. I looked you up. I didn't tell him."

"Why are you here?"

"Because you didn't eat today." Kaitlyn lifted the bag. "Chicken and waffles. The place on Dickerson Pike that you love."

It really was the place she loved. She had mentioned it once, months ago.

She let her in.

Kaitlyn looked around the room. She looked at the hot plate and the mattress and the window. Then she covered her mouth.

"Oh, Aisling."

"It's fine."

"It is not fine." Kaitlyn's voice shook. "Colby was out of line this morning. Mom is crying in the kitchen. I told them both they were wrong."

"Did that help?"

"Not yet." Kaitlyn sat on the floor and began unpacking the food, setting out the napkins in a neat row. "But I'll keep telling them."

Aisling sat down across from her. The waffles were still hot.

For a minute neither of them said anything. Kaitlyn ate half a biscuit and watched her.

"I know you don't owe me anything," Kaitlyn said. "But could you play me the song? Once. I won't ask for it. I just want to hear the thing everyone is fighting about."

"No."

"Okay." Kaitlyn nodded at once. "That's fair. Completely fair."

She tugged her cuffs down over her wrists and smiled with wet eyes.

"I'm sorry. It's only that I heard a little of it through the wall last night while you were recording. The chorus has been stuck in my head all day."

She hummed four notes.

They were the first four notes of Aisling's chorus, exactly right.

Aisling said nothing. She was tired, and the waffles were good, and Kaitlyn had walked up three flights of stairs for her.

Kaitlyn stayed until the dryers downstairs went quiet.

At the door she hugged Aisling hard.

"You'll come home when you're ready," she whispered. "I'll keep the light on."

Her footsteps went down the stairs. A car started in the lot.

Aisling checked her arm before she lay down.

366.

She slept badly, with the recorder under her pillow.

In the morning, gray light lay across the floor. Her phone was blazing with notifications.

She opened the first one.

It was a video of Kaitlyn at a piano in a white room. Her hair was down and she was singing softly, with her eyes closed.

She was singing the chorus.

The caption said: Working on something new with my incredible sister. Love you, Aisling.

The video had two million views.

It had been up for seven hours.

Aisling's thumb hovered over the screen. The caption wasn't a lie. It was not exactly the truth, either.

She pushed up her sleeve and looked.

336 DAYS.

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