Matthew sniffles and nods.
As I watch Jordan with his brother, some of the anger I hold toward him starts to melt away. The intense pain of sudden loss is something we share intimately. There are few who can really grasp that. No wonder Jordan seemed to understand me so quickly in a way that others in the past couldn’t. We are very different, but we’re also tied together in strange ways. I glance around the room and am suddenly aware that there are no pictures—anywhere. I see a few conspicuous mounting nails sticking out of a nearby wall. Somehow I doubt they’ve been empty for long.
A memory of the day that Mama took down all our family pictures floats back to the surface. The pictures made me feel like a piece of Daddy was still with us, but then he wasn’t anymore. It was like he’d been ripped away from me again, but this time by someone I loved and trusted. I’ve never told Mama that.
I stand quietly in the corner like a fly on the wall. I try not to feel like I’m intruding on this deeply private scene as I watch Jordan help Matthew gather his things and turn on the TV in a nearby room. Within five minutes, his brother is settled and Jordan comes back to me. He’s rubbing his shoulder with one hand like there is a knot there that will never quite go away.
I think I have a knot in the exact same place.
“He has nightmares if he goes to bed before our dad is home. I don’t usually let him stay up this late, but it isn’t a school night, and I can’t stand to hear him wake up screaming in his room.” He states this simply, like it isn’t the most heartbreaking thing I’ve ever heard.
I hesitate, but something in me wants desperately to reach out to him. “I used to have nightmares like that.”
“Really?” Jordan leans back to sit on the edge of the couch. “About what?”
“I was always afraid. I kept thinking that he might come back and take away my mom, too.” I meet his eyes and although I see sympathy in them, we both let the conversation drop there.
Neither of us wants to bring up the truth that hangs over us: the fact that the monster from my nightmares is the same man that Matthew is so terrified to lose.
“Well, in five minutes he’ll be sleeping peacefully anyway. Do you prefer not to have an audience? We can go outside to talk.”
The desire to leave is only getting stronger and stronger with every passing moment. “I’d rather go outside, but are you sure you can leave the house? What if he needs you? I can always meet you somewhere tomorr—”
“No,” he responds before I even get the whole word out. “Just wait a sec.”
Jordan walks softly to the living room doorway and peeks in. After a moment, he nods. “He’s already asleep. I can’t go far, but we can go out to the front yard if you want. Is there a reason you don’t want to talk here?”
I hesitate before just saying exactly what I’m thinking. “I’d rather be anywhere where there is less of a chance of someone coming home unexpectedly and interrupting our chat.”
Jordan’s face twists into a strangely pained and rueful expression I’ve never seen on him before. “Not much chance of that, but okay.”
I feel like maybe I shouldn’t, but concern forces me to ask anyway. “Why not?”
“Dad works a lot anyway, but with this new murder he might not be home again for a day … or two.” Jordan shrugs it off.
I shake my head, giving him a sad smile. “For being from completely different sides of this, we sure have a lot in common.”
“You noticed that too, huh?” He winks at me before holding the front door open for me to walk through.
I consider asking him if his dad has always worked this much—if it was like this before his mother died—but I hold my tongue. Of all the people in the world who should understand not wanting to answer questions about absent parents, I’m definitely one of them.
Hell, I should be their president.
“Long hours are a common occurrence at my house, too,” I say instead.
He laughs, but the normal roundness of the notes is soured by a bitter undertone. “Long hours is an understatement around here.”
I follow Jordan over to a beautifully carved porch swing that I hadn’t noticed on my way in. It hides in an alcove behind a large pecan tree. Jordan plops down and I take the seat beside him.
Once we’re alone out here, the silence hangs between us, awkward and smothering. I don’t know how to ease it, but I really wish I could.
“I wish you would relax a little.” Jordan watches me, half of his face hidden in shadow. “Why can’t you believe that I’m sorry? I wasn’t trying to hurt you. You can trust me.”
“Trust isn’t my strong suit.” The seat is only wide enough to give us about six inches between my leg and his. Being this close to him makes me nervous even though I’m not sure why. “So what exactly do you need to know about my visit?”