“Does the house possess things? Is that how everything works?”
“I’m not sure what it does, really, but that’s probably as good a description as any. The utensils move. The stove turns on. I feel like it’s the shed making it all, but maybe it’s more than one thing in there. The house sort of feels like one. . . thing, with just a lot of moving parts.”
She reached down, tugged at his elbow so he’d move his hand closer and let her hold it. “Are you happy here?”
“Yeah,” he said. “I mean, it’s all I’ve really known. I know that my home life is different, to say the least.”
She knew she should ask about the yard, or the house, or how he learned to walk, talk, or interact with other humans. Instead, she asked, “Have you ever had a girlfriend over before?”
He laughed. “No. You’re the first.”
“Have you ever had your heart broken?”
His voice was wary. “That’s not a question about the house.”
“Answer it anyway.” She looked up at him, admired his sharp jaw and the dark stubble forming just beneath his skin. She wondered if he would ever let her draw something on him. Bloodred swirls and jagged, slate-gray lines, or words, like he did. Some runes, maybe, to scare anyone else away from ever touching him the way she wanted to. “If I’m your girlfriend, I get to ask things like that.”
“Fair enough,” he said with a little smile. “And no, I haven’t. Not the way you mean. I had it broken a lot when I was little, just from being ignored or rejected or teased. I don’t think it could be broken now.”
Her heart broke a little at that. “That’s pretty terrible.”
“It’s not.” His fingers squeezed her, and inside her chest, her ribs seemed to mimic the gesture, coming together tightly. “I haven’t been lonely. House is very affectionate. Objects as family is my reality, and I’m a pretty happy person. Like I said, I have people I chat with online who just know me as a username and don’t have any clue that I’m the Monster House version of raised-by-wolves. Of course, now I have you.”
She grinned. “Yes. You do.”
“But I’m just saying that a person probably couldn’t break my heart. But maybe House could.”
The branches from the tree had started stretching down, and now they touched his other arm, the one she didn’t feel pressed along the length of hers. He whispered a “thanks” as he pulled a cherry off with a careful tug, popped it in his mouth, and turned to throw the pit across the yard. The branch smacked him lightly on the shoulder.
“What? You wanted to take it?” The tree ran a leaf across his cheek and then retreated. An obvious “yes.” It was then that Delilah realized how Gavin must have learned to walk and talk and all the other things he would have needed: House had taught him. If it could do something as delicate as feed him a cherry, reprimand him for tossing a pit into the grass, and then caress his cheek, it could certainly care for and nurture him.
Gavin was loved.
From where she lay, Delilah watched the interaction with wide-eyed fascination.
“I don’t know what to ask,” she said finally. “I think it’s amazing.”
A warm breeze blew through the yard and carried with it the smell of spring and warmth and the best kind of summer day, in the middle of the winter.
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