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I’m woken up by my alarm. 5:45 every morning. I do the same things every morning, so I do the same today.
I fix my sheets and set my pillows aside to fix my blankets. My thinner blanket is laid down first. It's fuzzy and gray, it was given to me by Jacob for our first Christmas in Florida. The weighted blanket is carefully laid on top, a beige one Miss Peregrine gave me, and I fold over the edge where the pillows go to expose the gray one underneath. I fix the pillowcases and set them back on the bed in order from biggest to smallest, the big white one in the back, the small sage green one in the middle, and the one with a branched pillowcase in front. just like every morning.
The bathroom is right down the hall, and nobody but Miss Peregrine is awake at this time. I bring a change of clothes with me, though I really could have just changed in Hugh and I’s room. It’s more comfortable to change when there’s not a sleeping person on the other side of our curtain divider. My teeth are brushed, like usual, and I wash my face, like usual. I also comb my hair, though I can’t see it, just to keep it unmatted. No offense to Fiona, but I prefer to keep my invisible hair controlled. Lastly, I change my clothes and put on some deodorant. I never used to use it in Cairnholm because we didn’t have access to it. Modern supermarkets are something I'm grateful for, even if they’re hard to steal from. I’m wearing a simple brown t-shirt and a pair of straight black jeans.
I make my way down to Jacob’s dads study. It's the only room with books I haven't read yet. Jacob has warned me that there will only be books about birds, but I find birds rather fascinating. Especially since I’ve never studied American birds before. There’s shelves full of books, every one with a bird on the cover. I can count at least six with a robin. I pick one with a title I find intriguing, Birds for Dummies.
Hours later I’ve read about half of the book. I learned about two pages in that it’s about the care of pet birds, but it’s interesting nonetheless. Earlier, I’m going to guess around seven, there was some commotion downstairs, but when isn’t there? Obviously, I ignored it and kept reading. but now I'm interested in why it's so silent. I use a sticky square of pink paper from Franklin’s desk to mark my page, then I set the book down on his desk to go investigate.
It’s oddly quiet as I enter the living room, and all the bedrooms I've passed have been quiet too. I can only hear the wind blowing and the distant sounds of motor vehicles and water lapping. I peek around to the kitchen, and it’s been left a mess. Luckily, it’s only plastic wrappers, some containers, and pantry foods, so everything that went in the fridge is back in the fridge. Then empty space on the counter catches my eye, the picnic basket is missing. We only ever use it on trips to the beach.
Did they all go without me?
I've been lying flat on the floor staring at the ceiling for a while. I’m in the kitchen, the tile is cold. It’s comforting in a way. I know I’ve been crying because I've felt a few tears roll into my ears.
It just sucks. Being invisible. It never felt like it mattered with the others, when all my invisibility meant to them was that I’m able to snoop and sneak. I didn’t think I would become socially invisible again. It’s been decades since that happened. The last time it went on for years. I decided to see if they’d notice if I pulled my chair from the table overnight. They didn’t. For four months.
I don’t want to think it’s happening again, but it is. Last week they forgot to invite me down for dinner. Five days ago Claire and Olive forgot that I had volunteered to take them to the park. I only found out that they went early with Bronwyn when they got back three hours later, one hour after I had planned to go with them. I was panicking for a whole hour that they had disappeared because they forgot. Two days ago Emma didn’t notice that I had planned a shower that day. We have a schedule right outside the bathroom door.
Little things like that have been happening for a month.
I’m becoming invisible again.
I hear a car pull into the driveway. I don’t move
Footsteps and loud voices come point in, the keys rattling in the door. I don’t move.
Laughter and conversation burst into the house as people scatter when the door is opened. I don’t move.
Footsteps approach and someone screams. It sounds like Horace.
“What happened?” Someone yells. I think it’s Emma.
“My goodness, Millard, ” Horace sighs. “How did you manage to get over here that fast?” He asks, setting the basket on the counter and unpacking it. I don’t move. I don’t respond.
Miss Peregrine walks in with Claire on her hip, a doll in her hand. She freezes when she sees me on the floor.
“Mister Nullings, what are you doing on the floor? There’s much better ways to cool off after an afternoon at the beach”
“I haven’t been to the beach,” I reply dryly. They forgot about me. Another tear rolls into my ear. I want nothing more than for them to stop.
Horace turns to look at me, a liter of soda in hand, “What do you mean? We all just went”
I don’t reply. Emma walks into the kitchen.
“What’s going on? Why did Horace shriek?”
“I didn’t shriek!” Horace defends quickly.
“Did too!” Claire says back, waving her doll's hair in his face.
“Children, it appears I’ve forgotten to invite Millard to the beach with us,” Miss Peregrine says. I can feel eyes from the living room. She never uses our first names.
“I was going to, but I couldn’t find him and then I forgot I was looking when I found one of my bees hanging out in one of the houseplants,” Hugh says. It sounds like he’s on the couch.
“Why didn’t you say something?” Bronwyn's voice asks. She’s further away than Hugh. I can hear steps being taken towards the kitchen. Multiple moving bodies. Soon enough everyone but Enoch is surrounding me. He’s yelling about something down the hall, and things are being knocked around.
“I didn’t see him all morning, that’s not our fault. Nobody ever knows where to find him,” Emma says. I can hear Enoch's heavy steps approaching the kitchen. He doesn’t say anything, surprisingly.
“He just disappears sometimes,” Olive says, turning away from me. She does that when she feels guilty.
“I do the same thing every morning! Jacob, we had a conversation about your father’s books yesterday! ” I half shout, lifting my head from the floor to do so. It makes a loud sound when it hits the floor again. Doesn’t hurt too bad, though.
“We did?” Jacob questions. He doesn’t even remember talking to me. Another hot tear pools into my ear.
“I’m going on a walk,” I announce, quickly pushing myself to my feet and shoving my way out of the kitchen. They begin to protest, but I slam the front door before I can actually listen.
I know I’m not supposed to go out alone, being invisible and all. I know I'll get myself in even more trouble if a normal sees me, so I strip. If anyone wants to bother looking for me, they’ll find my clothes sitting on the sidewalk outside Jacob’s house.
I run my fingers along the scars on my upper arms, branching up to my shoulders, as I make my way towards the dock. They’re from the last time. Nobody noticed, nobody knows they’re there. I wasn’t stupid enough to cut up by my wrists, I didn’t want to kill myself. Just…feel something. It wasn’t smart, I know, but…I was able to release. I needed it.
The docks are abandoned at this time of the year. It’s been raining a lot, and the water is rough. There’s only one boat here, and it’s a rowboat. Intelligent persons don’t use a rowboat on these waters. I settle myself at the edge of the dock, the soaked planks creaking beneath me. I submerge my feet in the water.
I don't know how long I've been sitting here, but it’s long enough for the lighting to have changed. The sun is setting now. I’ve been listening to the sounds of the world around me. splashes in the water from creatures unknown to me just living their lives, distant honking from some afterwork traffic jam, the wind whistling around the rough edges of the dock. Watching flocks of birds fly over me. It’s unsettling how quiet they are.
A new sound joins the others, foot steps. I turn around to look at the path leading to the dock, prepared to pancake myself against the one remaining piling if needed. As the steps approach I sneak closer to the piling, making sure I don’t make too much noise. It’s hard to be invisible when you’re noisy. Stepping out from behind the bushes is…Hugh? I didn’t think he even knew where this place was. In one of his hands is a mesh bag with my clothes in it, the other holds a towel.
“Mill?” He calls out, looking at the floor. He’s looking for my imprints. I decide to break my silence and step on a wet cattail. It makes a squelch sound under my feet. He immediately turns his head towards my feet.
“Oh thank the birds,” Hugh sighs.
“How did you know I’d be here?” I ask. I sit down and lean against the piling, careful not to shift where the wood is splitting so I don’t get splinters.
“I didn’t. I looked at the playground first, then at the picnic spot, then in the garage, then Wyn suggested I looked here. We’ve missed dinner, by the way”
“That’s fine, I didn’t feel like eating, anyway”
“You should. I snuck some potato chips. Miss Peregrine isn’t good at hiding the snacks,” He insists, digging through the mesh bag. He pulls out a crinkly bag of salt and vinegar potato chips, my favorite.
“Oh. Thanks,” I say, taking the bag from his hand. He’s sitting in front of me with the mesh bag in his lap and the towel beside him, soaking up some of the grimy water from the dock. I fidget with the bag, finally getting it open, and take a few chips out to pop them into my mouth. I’m hit with the tart and tangy taste.
“Miss Peregrine is allowing me to go back to the Acre to look for Fiona in Miss Wren’s loop. They got a door linked there, now,” Hugh blurts. It’s been three years since we settled in Florida, and Hugh and I have been taking weekly trips to the Acre to check if there’s any news on Fiona. Miss Peregrine letting us go to another loop is new. I do hope we’re able to find her soon, and I’m glad for the distraction right now.
“Really?”
“Yeah, I’m stoked,” He says, holding back a smile. He said ‘stoked’ in an American accent. He’s been practicing for two months, following Jacob around and parroting him. It’s quite funny. He can’t see, but I’m smiling too.
“Can I have my clothes?” I question, extending a hand out to him.
“Maybe when we get back, but there could still be normals out here. Just take the towel for now,” He says, a bee escaping his mouth. He sucks it back in, trying really hard to keep a straight face. He picks up the, now grimy, towel and hands it in my general direction. He ends up jabbing my torso with the towel, and I let out an ‘oof’ sound.
“Thanks,” I grumble, snatching the towel from his hands. We’re going to pretend an Irish guy wearing goggles and spitting bees out of his mouth is normal in Florida.
“I’m sorry I forgot to invite you to the beach”
“It’s not your fault you’re distracted easily”
“Maybe, but I still feel bad. It hurt your feelings,” We’re also going to pretend that Hugh doesn’t talk about feelings like Olive and Claire. I’ll admit, sometimes it’s cute. Right now it’s cute.
“It hurts more that everyone else forgot, I wouldn’t be upset if it was just you, or just Claire, or just Jacob, you get what I mean?”
“Yeah, I get what you mean. I just…I don’t want what happened last time to happen again. I guess I’m just glad I was able to notice sooner this time. Even if I’m forgiven for getting distracted, at least let me be sorry for not noticing last time. Let me be sorry for not noticing what was going on for years”
“You can be sorry for that. I’m sorry, too. For allowing it to happen, then blaming you all”
“ We allowed it to happen, Mill. Don’t blame yourself for that,” Hugh insists, reaching out to pat my towel-covered shoulder.
“I’ll blame myself for making it worse, though. Because I did”
Hugh doesn’t respond with words to that, and instead pulls me into a hug. I haven’t gotten one in a while. He’s really warm, it’s nice. Almost instantly I relax into his touch, and tears start to trickle down my cheeks.
“Mill?”
“Yeah?” I sniffle out.
“You okay?”
“Yeah, now I am”
We sit there for a while, Hugh grasping onto me. I think he needs this, too.
“Hugh?”
“Yeah, mate?” He questions, leaning back and looking at my face. He can kind of see it because of the tears and snot, I guess.
“I…I need to tell you something. I think It’s time I tell somebody”
“Yeah, of course. What is it, Mill?”
I hesitate for a moment. How are you supposed to tell someone you used to harm yourself? You don’t. At least, I don’t. I just grab his hand and push his fingers along the scars. I know he can feel them, I know they’re raised at least a bit. He looks confused for a second, but I see it click on his face.
“Scars?” He questions, now running his fingers along them without my help guiding him.
“Yeah…”
“Those aren’t from everything else, are they? I don’t remember you ever getting hurt there…”
“They’re not”
“Then what are they from?” He asks, cocking his head to the side.
“...the last time,” I mumble, pulling my arm back.
“What do you mean?”
“The last time,” I repeat.
“I don’t understand”
“I made them,” I spit out, leaning back against the piling.
“Oh… oh ,” Hugh breathes out. His face twists, and he asks, “Why?”
I sigh, “Needed to feel something when I wasn’t allowing myself to feel anything else”
“Oh, Mill ”
“I know”
“Can I tell you something in return?”
“Sure you can”
“I’m stopping myself from feeling right now. It’s hard without Fi, and I can’t deal. She was my rock”
“We’ll find her, okay?” I say, pulling him into a hug as he begins to cry. The towel that was draped around my shoulders has fallen to my waist and the icy wind pierces my skin. I don’t care, though, Hugh needs me. Fiona needs us . I cry with him
“Yeah, we’ll find her”