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Alex closes the door, her unhappy face disappearing from view. “Joe, come on,” Audrey says reproachfully, “go help her.”
“Too tired for this shit,” Joseph says groggily.
“She’s just a kid.”
“You go sort her out then. If you’re feeling so charitable.” He flops over to face away from her, pulling the blankets over his head. Audrey sighs—he could at least try to be nicer to Alex. She doesn’t really mind getting up, however. Joseph’s already annoyed, and being there for Alex at least promises to be better than listening to him toss and turn in a pissy way for the rest of the night. Audrey flips back the covers, puts on her slippers, pads over the carpet to the door. When she opens it, Alex is sitting right outside, holding a stuffed shark.
“What’s the matter?” Audrey asks, crouching down to her level. “What are you doing out of bed?”
“I had a bad dream,” Alex says plaintively. “It was scary, I didn’t wanna go back to sleep.” When Audrey doesn’t respond, she adds, “Are you mad?”
“No, sweetheart, I’m not. It’s not something to be angry over.”
“Wilford was mad.”
“Don’t listen to him,” Audrey says conspiratorially. “He’s just tired.”
“He’s always like that,” Alex mutters in a way that makes her feel immediately guilty for trying to sugarcoat it.
“It’s hard, isn’t it? It’s a big adjustment for everyone.” Audrey puts her arm around Alex, and the girl leans into her. “How about I come back to bed with you? Would you like that?”
They don’t know each other well, and even though Joseph had told her to get acquainted, Audrey isn’t that familiar with Alex. The younger girl seems distrustful, not always looking her in the eye. It’s the only olive branch Audrey can think of to offer.
Alex looks miserable, but she seems to perk up somewhat at that. “Okay. That sounds nice.”
Audrey gives an inward sigh of relief that she didn’t get rebuffed. Alex moves to stand, and her feet come into view. They are black with grime from walking around the train barefoot, and Audrey can see some red marks underneath. “Did you walk here without shoes?”
“Yeah,” Alex says guiltily. Audrey’s heart breaks at this tiny, fragile girl wandering around a cold dark train, trying to find comfort that didn’t exist. “I’ll clean those up for you. Can’t be comfortable walking around like that.” She takes Alex by the hand, leads her into the bathroom. The towels are white and sparkling clean—Joseph would have a fit if they got dirty. He’ll just have to get over himself, Audrey decides as she runs the towel under the tap. At least the water up here’s warm. When she wipes off Alex’s feet with them, they come away black. “Wilford will be mad,” Alex says guilelessly.
“He’ll deal with it,” Audrey says flippantly, stuffing the towels down the laundry chute. “Okay. How about I carry you? Just so you don’t have to walk back there.” Alex nods wordlessly, and Audrey scoops her up. Alex clings to her neck, and she holds her a little tighter in response. The train at night is dark, only lit by red emergency lights. There’s grating and uneven flooring and catwalks everywhere. Audrey’s both impressed and saddened that Alex walked all the way here through that. She lets Alex direct her to her bunk, which ends up being in a small hallway off the main path. The bunk is tiny—they have to squash right up against each other. If Alex wasn’t so small, there wouldn’t be enough space for them both. It’s also cold. Audrey can’t blame her for not wanting to sleep alone here. She pulls the blankets over them both, and notes how rough it is. Like an airplane duvet. Alex curls up in a ball against Audrey’s side, hugging her shark tightly. Audrey is honestly surprised that Joseph didn’t make her get rid of it. Maybe it was too hard for him to hurt a little girl further by taking it away. Audrey thinks that’ll be the end of it, but twenty minutes later Alex is refusing to go to sleep. Out of fear for another bad dream, or something else. “You’re still awake,” Audrey says after a while.
“Don’t wanna sleep,” Alex says. “I’m scared of the dreams.”
“If you wake up, I’ll be right here,” Audrey says gently. “I won’t leave you alone.”
Alex bites her lip. Clearly she’s not that convinced.
“I could sing to you.”
“That’s for babies,” Alex says, as if Audrey should know that already. “I’m eight,” she adds indignantly.
“Really?” Audrey asks teasingly. “Sometimes I forget how old you are.”
“Don’t make fun of me. That’s what Wilford does.”
Audrey immediately sobers. “I’m sorry. I won’t do that again, okay?” She strokes Alex’s hair gently, and the girl relaxes somewhat. “But you’re never too old to be sung to every once in a while. Even Wilford likes it, and he’s an adult, right?”
That last part seems to convince Alex. “Okay. But not the ones you sing for him. I don’t like those.”
Well, that hugely narrows down Audrey’s repertoire. Most of her songs are veiled allegories of bad sex, bad relationships, toxic breakups. Good for a lounge bar, but definitely not appropriate for a small girl. Can she remember anything even mildly G-rated?
Until she knows. Until something slides into her mind, something that she’s never done for anyone else before. Audrey begins to sing, not even bothering to warm up her voice. She can barely remember the lyrics, but as she progresses through the song they come back to her, as if from the bottom of a dark pool. Unfortunately she has to be quiet. At least the roar of the train covers the sound of her voice enough. Alex looks skeptical, but very soon she’s becoming relaxed, her permanent frown disappearing. Halfway through her eyelids start drooping, almost in a cartoon fashion. Audrey strokes her hair a little more as she slides into the last verse of the song. When she’s done, Alex looks well and truly asleep. “Goodnight, sweetheart,” Audrey whispers, then she pulls the covers up and closes her eyes to wait for day.
Audrey awakens with a start, from formless dreams. The sliver of window outside is still resolutely dark. She lies on her back, feeling the warmth of Alex at her side. Audrey’s just about to go back to sleep when a tiny sob breaks the silence—she’s flopped over in an instant, pulling the covers away from Alex. “Baby, what’s wrong?”
“I miss my mom,” Alex sobs, curled up into a ball. “I don’t like it here, I want my mom and I wanna go home. Please, Audrey? I wanna go home.”
Audrey imagines Joseph being here right now instead of her. She imagines how callously he would respond to that, how cold he would be. Get over it, Alexandra. You can’t go home. It doesn’t exist anymore. Her heart flip-flops at the thought, and Audrey has to remind herself that she’s here, not him.
“I know, sweetheart. I know.” Audrey doesn’t know what to say that would make this better. She wraps Alex in the blanket and holds her close—it’s the only comfort she can really give right now. Alex cries into Audrey’s shirt for a little while, in the way that only an eight-year-old can. They stay like that for a while, long after Alex stops crying. “Wilford keeps saying my mom’s never coming back,” she whispers. “He says I won’t ever see her again.”
Audrey knows that he probably didn’t deliver those statements very kindly. He was probably also drunk. Why on earth he brought Alex aboard if he was just going to be an asshole to her, Audrey doesn’t know. She also doesn’t know how Joseph can find it within himself to act so coldly to her in the first place. Alex’s just a small child who’s missing her mom. “That wasn’t very nice of him to say.”
“He says you’re my mom now,” Alex says quietly, in the tone of someone stating bad news. “He says I should forget her, since she left me.”
“I can’t replace her, Alex,” Audrey says gently. “Regardless of whether or not she’s out there, she’s still your mom. And I’m sure she loves you very much.”
“Why did she leave me? Was I bad? Did she not want me anymore?”
Why, indeed? Audrey got a very limited account of Snowpiercer’s departure from Joseph, but his rage was so fearsome she dared not press the subject. From what she could gather, it was a rushed exit, trying to get away while Joseph was conveniently in his Jeep outside. Audrey can easily imagine Alex getting lost in the shuffle. “It was probably a hard choice for her to make,” she begins, trying to think of the best way to phrase it. “I’m sure she still wants you. And misses you. Sometimes things just happen that way.” It sounds so trite and so cliche, but Alex seems to accept this. “I know it’s hard, sweetheart. You’re being so brave, you know that, right? If you don’t want to talk to Wilford, you can talk to me. I won’t be mad—and I won’t tell him anything.” Audrey knows the minefield she’s stepping in with that statement; Joseph will not appreciate her conspiring against him with Alex. She has to do it, though. She has to try and be there for Alex, because god knows nobody else will. There’s just no way around it.
“Okay,” Alex says, nuzzling into Audrey’s chest. “Don’t go away.”
“No, of course not. I’m right here.” Audrey rubs her back gently, and Alex relaxes even further. Very soon the younger girl’s breaths have evened out; she’s asleep again. Audrey shifts a little so she’s comfortable, and closes her eyes too, letting the motion of the train and her tiredness lull her back to sleep.