“She’s here,” he calls to my mom, who comes rushing into the room. Her eyes are red, and her foundation’s messy from the tears she’s crying. He clasps his hands in front of him and smiles at me. “Cozy in there?”
I sit up a little more and rub my lower back. I can practically feel the impression the sneaker left there from sleeping on it for so long. I rest my back on the side of the closet. “What time is it?”
My mom hovers over Torrin, looking at me with her red, puffy face.
“Time to get up and start the day.” Torrin checks the watch on his wrist.
It looks like it’s almost ten o’clock, which is really late for me to sleep in. Although if you count actual sleep time, I only got five hours.
“What are you doing in there, Jade?” Mom scans the sleeping bag and sees the pillow. She looks almost horrified. “Did you sleep in there? All night?”
I shrug. “Some of it.”
“Why?” she asks.
“My bed”—I nod toward it—“was too soft or something. I couldn’t sleep.”
She looks back at my bed. Nothing’s been disturbed on it.
Torrin doesn’t look back because I think he knows. I think he understands that I couldn’t just crawl into my old queen bed and fall fast asleep on my first night home. It was too open. Too exposed. Right now, the closet is more comfortable than the bed.
“Are you hungry? I saved some breakfast for you.”
I haven’t really eaten anything since I was found. I’m not hungry though. “No, thanks. Maybe later,” I add when I notice her frown. I know she’s trying to help—I know she wants to help—but the thing is, none of it actually helps. “I’m sorry if I scared everyone hiding out in here. If I’d heard you come in earlier, I would have said something, but I must have passed out pretty hard.”
Mom bites her lip, still watching me like I might disappear. Then she straightens up. “I’ll give you two a minute. I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me.” She pats Torrin’s shoulder a few times. “Thank you for finding her.”
Torrin watches her leave the room. He’s in the same clothes as yesterday, and that white square looks extra bright today. They must bleach the hell out of those things because I’ve never seen anything so white. It doesn’t seem possible it could stay so clean.
“You need a cell phone,” he says like he didn’t just find me stuffed in a closet like a scared little child.
“Why?” I reply.
“Because I called last night to check in, and when I asked if I could speak to you, your dad told me to do something to myself I’m pretty sure would be frowned upon in my profession.”
I tore off the bandages around my neck last night, and even though he’s not staring at the blend of scar and scab, I can tell he’s having to force himself not to. I lift the corner of the sleeping bag and tuck it under my chin. “Well, you made it through the door this morning. No bullet holes from the looks of it.”
“I made it in because your dad’s at work and your mom called me when she couldn’t find you.” He’s freshly shaven today, unlike the serious shadow he had yesterday, and for some reason, this makes him seem even more priest-like. “I fully intend to be out of this house when your dad gets home from work because hollow points just aren’t a good look on me.”
When I smile, he looks kind of relieved. I wonder if he’s trying to be careful too—watching what he says and does because he’s afraid of upsetting me.
“Hey, I’ve got a really great idea,” he says suddenly. I lift an eyebrow. “We should take a trip to the zoo soon. You know, whenever you’re ready to crawl out of the closet and brave the big, bad world again.”
“The zoo?” Kind of the last thing that I thought would be his great idea.
“You used to love the zoo. Maybe you still do.” He backs up from the closet, waiting for me to peel myself out of it. When I do, he pops up. “Besides, the animals have lots of experience with being stared at by masses of people, so maybe they can offer you some advice.”
I stretch my arms above my head. “Good one.”
“I’m a witty guy.” He stuffs his hands in his pockets, and when he sees what I’m wearing, he turns to look out the window.
My old pajama bottoms wouldn’t stay up anymore, and the old boxers I stole from Torrin that I used to sleep in during the summer had disappeared with the rest of his stuff. So I threw on a cotton sundress. It still kind of hangs limp on me, but at least it stays on.
I don’t know why seeing me in it makes him uncomfortable. Bony knees, knobby elbows, prominent collarbones, and boobs that have shrunk to the point that a bra’s just a formality are all that’s showing.
“What about today?” I pull a long cardigan off of a hanger and slide into it.
He stays at the window. “Today today? Are you . . . you know, ready for that?”
I know what he’s asking. Am I ready for the people, the noises, the sights, the damn media? Of course I’m not ready for any of that, but I doubt I’ll ever be ready, and my life isn’t just going to come back together on its own.
“I’m ready for the zoo.” I’m surprised by how convincing I sound.