The Different Girl

Irene’s peanut butter, but darker. Her face had a long patchy scab, like a paintbrush had been dragged down her cheekbone to her chin.
    Irene opened the door. May let go of my hand, and at a nudge from Robbert I went to Isobel, Caroline, and Eleanor, all of us staring at May as nicely as possible.
    “May has met Veronika already,” said Robbert. “This is Isobel, Eleanor, and Caroline.”
    May just looked at us.
    “Isobel has blond hair,” said Robbert. “Caroline has brown hair like Irene, and Eleanor has black hair, just like you.”
    May didn’t say anything about hair. Robbert touched her shoulder, gently.
    “Everything is fine, May.”
    “What can you girls say to make May feel welcome?” asked Irene.
    “Do you eat soup, May?” asked Isobel. “We made soup for dinner.”
    “Do you eat soup?” May’s voice was still raspy.
    “We make soup,” replied Caroline. “And all kinds of things. Tonight there’s noodles.”
    “Why don’t we set another place?” said Irene. “Come to the table, May, take a seat.”
    Irene pulled a stool from the counter and set it between her chair and Robbert’s. May sat down, hugging her arms even though it wasn’t cold. We all fetched another table setting—spoon, chopsticks, plate, bowl, cup—and set them down in the proper order. Robbert poured water from the filter jug into her cup, and then shook a yellow pill from a plastic bottle.
    “May needs to take this after she eats,” he told us. “It will help her sleep, so she can heal more quickly.”
    Along with the soup we had opened a package of noodles with sauce and a package of vegetable protein that Isobel had cut into cubes and put into the noodles so Caroline could mix them up. Caroline brought the bowl to Irene and Eleanor used the tongs to put noodles onto Irene’s plate, then Isobel used a spoon to pour more of the protein cubes and sauce on top. They did the same for Robbert and then brought the bowl to May.
    “Would you like noodles, May?” asked Eleanor.
    May nodded, watching Eleanor dig with the tongs and extract just the right amount of noodles, then push aside the noodles to make room for the spoon to get the sauce. When they were done, Caroline carried the bowl back to the countertop, and I held the pot for Isobel to ladle soup into their bowls.
    “Would you like soup, May?” asked Isobel.
    May nodded again. Her hands were in her lap, even though Robbert and Irene had gone ahead and started to eat. When we were done I carried the pot back to the stove, which was where it lived if someone still might decide on seconds. May stared at everything we did, and then at the kitchen around her.
    But May wasn’t eating.
    “Where am I?” she whispered. “What is this place?”
    Robbert put down his spoon and sniffed. He scraped his chair backward, just enough to cross his legs, and studied May, like she hadn’t figured something out in class.
    “No.”
    May looked up at him—not knowing how Robbert thought—since “no” wasn’t strictly an answer to either of her questions. The four of us did know, of course, and though we wanted to help her, we’d learned it was best to stay quiet.
    “Answer your own question, May,” Robbert said. “Where are you? You’re a stranger sharing our meal. I’m glad you’re feeling better—good enough to go exploring despite being asked to do no such thing. I’m also glad because this means you feel good enough to answer some questions yourself.”
    May held still, like a lizard trying to hide. Irene nodded to Robbert, and her eyes were different than the softness in her words, as if they had silently decided something between them.
    “Now, Robbert—” she began, but Robbert shook his head.
    “I’m speaking to May, Irene. I think she owes us an explanation . . . all of us.”
    May swallowed and the swallowing bobbed her head, even though her eyes kept staring at her soup. I saw the stripe of freckles below her eyes and wondered if they’d always been a part of her face, or if they were like the scab—something no one had expected but that, from then on, she had to remember.
    I walked to the counter, to where we cleared the table for dinner. By the time I crossed back to May everyone was looking at me. I set the zipped rubber pouch next to her plate.
    “I found it with you, May. We looked at your pictures and asked ourselves a lot of questions. But now that you’re awake, we can all look together.”
    May pulled the bag onto her lap, one