“I didn’t hear you.” He steadied himself, stretching a glass through the air.
“I wasn’t quiet.”
I took my first sip, and it led to a dozen more. I handed the glass back, and he offered me the other.
“I’m done, thank you.” I wiped the milk moustache from my face.
The smell that Nessie had moaned about was still here, still strong. Stronger, maybe. But I couldn’t see any bad meat in the open refrigerator.
My eyes clocked the made-up salad at the side.
“Where is she?” I asked, wondering of Bonny.
“The hutch, I’m hoping. I was going to take her breakfast after sorting out yours.”
“What did you have?” I asked, pulling out a chair at the table, the chain below, once again, catching my toes.
“I’m not hungry.” He smiled, sad enough to show all his pain. The pains he’d stolen from me when he’d taken my virginity and dignity.
“I’ll take this up for Nessie.” He raised the chocolate milk into the air and moved around the table, closing the refrigerator door, gripping the empty carton from the countertop on his way.
I listened to the sound of his foot moving to the pedal and the lid of the trash bin springing into the air.
I waited for him to pass, for the tension in the room to leave with him, then I turned, my voice finding him through the ever-dark hallway. “Woodrow…?”
He stopped, siding my way.
“I’ll get dressed. I’ll come with you.”
He didn’t say a word, but I saw a little of his light return to his eyes, and it brightened the dingy corridor. I saw a little weight ease up from his shoulders as he took the stairs two at a time.
I’d found a dress in the kitchen, in a pile of clean laundry that had been sitting there for over half a week.
I wandered ahead, flappy sandals stomping down on grass strands and carefully avoiding the pretty flowers.
“Are you doing okay?” Woodrow’s voice moved with the breeze, wrapping around me.
“I’m okay,” I lied.
“Please, don’t lie to me.”
I waited for him to catch up, and he accepted the invitation, moving to my side, salad box in hand.
I continued again, and he remained at my pace.
“It’s been hard.”
He nodded. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Don’t say anything. If you have no memory of it. If you genuinely see it as someone else’s actions, it’s not your place to apologize.”
“But you don’t see it that way.”
“I see your turmoil.”
Darkness fell around us as trees clouded over. Orange leaves crested the floor and crunched beneath our shoes. Autumn was always my favorite time of year.
“It’s killing me. It kills me that you’re the first person to love me, and that’s what happened. You shouldn’t have been included. He only defends me against my parents. . . he acts out of hate because they do. They created a monster. You shouldn’t have been included.”
