“How are you feeling?”
“Well, I made it through the night.” She smiled. “I feel better,” she said. “I think it was good we skipped the hospital trip.”
“Do you th
ink you can eat anything? I could make you some toast.”
“I could go for some toast,” she said. “Maybe just one piece.”
When I went out to make the toast, Declan tiptoed in with a stack of board books that he read to Allie.
I made sure she took it easy for the rest of the day. I did a few things around the house, but I kept going back to the living room where they were set up, and we’d all hang out. We played several games of Go Fish, and Declan read us some more stories, making up the words as he went along. I liked having Allie there, I liked the new dynamic, and when, later that afternoon, she told me that she felt much better and would be able to go home, I couldn’t help but feel a swell of disappointment. Not that I let that show on my face.
“My headache’s almost gone,” she said. “I think I am going to be A-okay.”
“Do you have to leave?” Declan asked.
Allie smiled. “Don’t worry, Declan. I’ll see you soon. Actually, do you want to drive me down to get my car?”
“Oh, that’s right. Your car is still there. Sure, why don’t we do that. And we can stop and get an ice cream on the way back, Declan,” I said, knowing that the promise of an ice cream cone would distract him from the fact that Allie was going back to her own house.
That Sunday, my parents showed up early afternoon and took Declan to the playground. I went for a ride, though it was very humid, and I was drenched in sweat before I’d even gone a few miles. I rode for maybe an hour, but then cut the ride short, went home, and took a cold shower.
I was just getting out when I heard my parents and Declan come back. I could tell the heat had tired Declan out, too, so I brought him up to his room and put him down for a nap, the fan pointed straight on him. When I went back downstairs, my parents were sitting out on the deck, under the umbrella, drinking glasses of lemonade.
“He’s tuckered out,” I said, sitting down with them. There was a slight breeze, which, while not entirely refreshing, at least moved the warm air around a little.
“He had a good time. We made sure he stayed hydrated,” my mother said. She set her glass down. “Declan said his teacher stayed over here the other night?”
“His teacher, our neighbor,” I said. I nodded in the direction of Allie’s house. “There was a bit of an incident at the fundraiser, and I thought she should stay over, just to be on the safe side.”
“Is everything all right?”
“They let someone ride one of the jet skis who shouldn’t have been on it, and she ended up colliding with Allie, and she hit her head. But she’s fine.”
“Oh, my.” My mother shook her head. “Those things can be very dangerous.”
“Not if you know how to use them properly, which this person didn’t. Everyone is lucky that nothing more serious happened.”
“That was nice of you to let her stay here like that.” My mother sighed and rubbed her eyes.
“Everything okay?” I asked. “You’ve seemed kind of... I don’t know, like something’s been bothering you.”
My mother pursed her lips and frowned, a sure sign that something was not actually okay.
“We saw Sam today,” she said softly. “At the grocery store. He works there now. The one over in Wakeby. We had just stopped on our way over to get some of those cookies that Declan likes.”
I nodded. “How’s he doing?”
“I didn’t talk to him,” she said, shaking her head. “No, we didn’t talk to him. He was bagging groceries in another line, and I happened to see him so we just went and did the self-checkout. I think your father wanted to talk to him, but I didn’t. Couldn’t.” She shook her head again. “I didn’t think he’d be able to work. Even something like bagging groceries. That surprised me.”
Sam Powell had been my little sister Marissa’s boyfriend, a kid from the wrong side of the tracks if there ever was one. He’d gotten the shit kicked out of him not long before my sister got sent away, effectively ending their relationship. The beating he took had caused him permanent brain damage, though I had a feeling that if she were alive today, none of that would have mattered to Marissa, and she’d still be with him.
“Do you think I should have talked with him?”
“Only if you wanted to,” I said.
She gave a short, strangled-sounding laugh. “Wanted to? What would I have said to him? That’s what I said to your father when we were finally out in the car—what exactly was it that he was planning to say?”