The next thirty minutes devolved into a game that involved stacking coasters into small towers while Markie attempted to steal them and shout commentary.
Bobbi sat cross-legged on the floor with complete concentration.
“You’re very good at this,” she told Markie.
“DAMN RIGHT.”
Bobbi gasped and pointed at him sternly. “That is inappropriate language to use in front of a minor.”
Markie froze.
There was a long pause.
Then he said carefully, “HELLO.”
I choked on a laugh.
Bobbi nodded approvingly. “Much better.”
Markie sat very straight after that, feathers pulled tight and posture rigid with the kind of exaggerated dignity that suggested he believed he had just restored order to the room.
I leaned back against the couch and watched the two of them while Bobbi continued building her tower of coasters on the coffee table. She worked slowly and carefully, lining up the edges before adding the next one. Every coaster received the same level of attention, her head tilting slightly as she checked the balance of the stack.
It occurred to me that most kids her age would have knocked the tower over on purpose by now just to see what would happen. Bobbi, however, appeared fully committed to structural integrity.
“Why do you come here so much?” I asked finally.
She didn’t look up. “Because you’re nice.”
That wasn’t the answer I expected.
I folded my arms. “I’m not that nice.”
“Yes, you are.” She placed another coaster carefully on top of the stack. “You talk normal.”
“What does that mean?”
Bobbi finally looked at me.
“Most people talk with two faces,” she said. “They say one thing but mean something else. There are rules you can’t see and you’re supposed to know them anyway.”
I considered that for a moment and realized what she said was true. “That sounds exhausting.”
“It is.” She added another coaster. “You just say what things are.”
That landed somewhere I hadn’t been expecting it to land.
I glanced toward the window. “Well,” I said lightly, “someone has to.”
Bobbi nodded.
For a minute, the only sound in the room was the soft click of coasters being stacked together, then she spoke again. “My therapist says that’s part of it.”
I raised an eyebrow in question. “She says I like coming here because my brain gets less confused.”
That made a certain amount of sense.
“What else does she say?”
