Invisible Ellen by Shari Shattuck Page A

love dies.” Her voice’s resonance thinned as she said this, as though it were a sound to be envious of, instead of hard to hear.
    â€œThat’s what I thought,” Ellen said. Then, because there wasn’t much more to say on the other subject, she asked a question because she’d been curious. “Why don’t you take Runt with you when you go out?”
    Temerity threw her head back and laughed so loudly that several heads turned, mouths tightened in skeptical suspicion, then,detecting no threat, the mouths relaxed and the heads dismissed the outburst. “Runt’s a few paw lengths short of a service dog. Love him to death, but he’s not the brightest canine in the kennel. A well-trained Labrador would help me find the right bus—Runt would drag me to my death chasing it.”
    â€œWhy does he chase buses?” Ellen asked.
    â€œI don’t know. But Justice said he almost caught one once.”
    Ellen wondered what he would have done with it if he had. She had a momentary image of the huge black shaggy head with a bus hanging limp and wounded from its jaws. “What kind of dog is he?” Ellen asked. Not that she would know one type from another.
    â€œGiant schnauzer. Or a big chunk of him is anyway. He came from the pound, so his heritage is a bit dubious.”
    Like me,
thought Ellen.
Dubious heritage, and from a kind of pound.
She was surprised that it had never occurred to her before that the foster care system was similar to a no-kill animal shelter, unwanted pets hoping endlessly for an adoption that would likely never come. “Oh,” was all she could think to say.
    â€œAnd you have a cat, you said?” Temerity asked.
    â€œYeah, Mouse.”
    â€œGreat name for a cat.” Temerity grinned. “Why did you pick that?”
    â€œBecause he just came in my house through a broken window and started eating a plate of hash I had left on the counter, and when I tried to get rid of him, he kept coming back, like a rodent. So finally I just got him some food and a bowl, and now he won’t leave. I almost named him Pest.”
    Temerity chuckled. “You’re funny, Ellen. I like your sense of humor.”
    This gave Ellen pause because she’d never thought she had a senseof humor. She realized now, though, that even if she did, she hadn’t really had the opportunity to find out. Humor for one has its limits. “Our transfer is coming up,” she said, and then tested the new theory. “Next stop, ottomans and recliners.”
    â€œListen to you!” Temerity said, jabbing her again in the ribs. “You’re a regular stand-up comic. We should get you an agent.”
    â€œOh, no, thank you,” Ellen said gravely, and for some reason that made Temerity laugh harder.
    They switched buses, and it was only a short ride to the mall. When they got out, Temerity reached out and took Ellen’s arm. “Okay, let’s go,” she said, folding her stick.
    The strangeness of not only walking with another but of having that person rely on her had Ellen in a sweat of anxiety, but it was so second nature to Temerity that by the time they had entered the warmth of the shopping megalith, Ellen wasn’t exactly comfortable but she had gotten used to her discomfort. They found the store and made their way to the furniture department.
    Then came the problem of identifying the sister. This was something they hadn’t considered, and they hovered near the lamps discussing it.
    â€œWe can’t ask for her by name,” Temerity said. “I mean, how would that sound? ‘Hi, are you Janelle? We intercepted a deeply personal letter you wrote to someone else, read it, and now we’ve come to intrude on your private life’?”
    â€œNot good,” Ellen agreed, more for her personal reasons than the dubious propriety of the thing.
    â€œDownright stalker. But we could ask to speak to the manager, if we