With the phone still pressed to her ear, she bounded the last few steps until she was at the door. She swung it open and walked outside, then raced across the street.
“Nic? Are you there?”
Finally, she stopped moving.
“I’m here,” she said, standing at the edge of the parking lot for the inn.
Her father repeated the question.
“Nic—do you know that man?”
She exhaled to calm her voice. Then she answered.
“Yeah, I do.”
27
Day fifteen
Ihear the car outside. So does Alice, and she leaves me to run to the front door.
We have been doing her schoolwork through the bars, making sure Dolly sees us.
I hear a high-pitched squeal of excitement. Then a man’s deep laughter.
They go to the kitchen. Cupboards open and close. Voices muted. Plates. Glasses clanking.
I sit with my back to the camera and make no motions. I am perfectly still on the outside.
On the inside, I am racing—to the end of this day, to my escape.
Time passes. I hear footsteps and turn. It’s Alice with a tray of food. Not the usual peanut butter sandwich. Today I have grilled cheese and tomato soup.
“It’s so good if you dip the sandwich into the soup!” she explains.
She opens the bottom panel. She slides the tray through, then relocks it.
I wonder now why she has brought me the food and not Mick. Usually he does it when he’s home with us.
“Why did you bring the tray?” I decide to ask her.
Alice shrugs. “I don’t know. He asked me to do it.”
This, and he hasn’t looked at me since he slept in the bed with us.
She stands now, watching me.
“Do it!” she says.
I look up at her from my spot on the floor.
“Do what?” I ask. And I ask so nicely.
“Dip the sandwich in the soup!”
“I will,” I say. “You don’t have to watch me. I know he’s waiting for you in the kitchen. He came home just to see you, right?”
It was not easy to remember to ask a question. I feel anger boiling up as I sit behind my bars. An animal trapped. There is no way around it, the feeling this provokes.
