and noise that is Denny’s.
Our server’s eyes were overbright, as though he were in the middle of a speed jag, but it could just have been the light. “What’ll you have?”
I ordered pancakes and eggs and bacon, with coffee. Tammy refused to look up from the menu. I smiled blandly at the server, offering no help at all. He shifted from foot to foot.
“Regular breakfast is pretty good,” he said finally. Tammy nodded. “With coffee?” She nodded again.
We ate in silence. When the bill came, I stood up. “I’m going to the bathroom. I’ll see you outside.” She made a panicked, abortive movement, but no sound. “Your wallet should be in your purse.”
“She’s not ready to do things for herself,” Julia said from behind me as I washed my hands.
“I think she is.” I pulled a paper towel from the dispenser, lifted my gaze to her reflection in the mirror, and the floor seemed to drop six inches: Julia’s indigo eyes had darkened to chocolate brown, like Tammy’s.
“Imagine if it were me out there,” she said.
The bathroom door swang back and forth behind me as I walked rapidly back to the restaurant.
Tammy, pale-cheeked, was still at the table, but she had her credit card out, sitting on top of the bill.
“You—we should probably take that up front.”
After a moment’s hesitation, she picked up the bill and card and followed me to the cash register. She handed it over to the server without a word. He handed her a slip and a pen. She looked at me with those empty brown eyes.
“Sign,” I said. She wrote slowly. “And add five dollars, for a tip.” The faster she came back to the real world, the faster I’d be rid of her.
In the parking lot, I went to the driver’s side, unlocked it, then climbed in the passenger seat. Tammy looked at me, looked back over her shoulder at Denny’s, then up at the sky when a solitary raindrop hit her shoulder.
“Better get in before you get wet.”
She got in. I handed her the keys.
“I’ve done too much driving lately, I’m tired. Wake me in a couple of hours.” I curled up and closed my eyes. We sat there for nearly thirty minutes before she put the keys in and turned the ignition. I kept my eyes shut while the engine idled.
“I can’t,” she said at last. I waited some more. “I don’t know where we’re going.”
“No,” I agreed.
Another long, long wait.
“Where are we going?”
“North Carolina, near Asheville.” I sat up and turned to face her. “Unless you’d rather go somewhere else. I’ll travel with you wherever you want, get you settled somewhere.”
“Not Atlanta,” she said.
“All right.”
“North Carolina?” I nodded. She nodded back and steered us carefully out of the parking lot, onto I-81 South. Her driving was bad at first, but improved rapidly. She stayed slightly under the speed limit. I was starting to go to sleep for real when she spoke again. “What’s in North Carolina?”
“Woods, birds, a house. There’s room enough for two, for a little while.” Until Dornan can come and get you. She didn’t say anything but the engine hit a higher note.
I didn’t sleep but drifted in a theta-wave state for a while until she began to brake too hard and make abrupt lane changes.
“Take the next exit,” I said. “I’ll take over.”
When she sat in the passenger seat it was obvious that returning to the world had taken its toll; her shoulders were hunched around her ears, and she picked endlessly at her thigh where the corduroy had worn thin. A person who is new in the world—a child, or an adult in a foreign country or just out of hospital—needs safety, first of all, but then they need to know that they matter, that their opinions are considered, that there are choices. The trick is not to offer too many options at once.
I turned on the radio and skimmed through channels: the blandly perfect smile of fusion jazz, a huge-voiced country music diva belting out about how her dawg done left her,
Our server’s eyes were overbright, as though he were in the middle of a speed jag, but it could just have been the light. “What’ll you have?”
I ordered pancakes and eggs and bacon, with coffee. Tammy refused to look up from the menu. I smiled blandly at the server, offering no help at all. He shifted from foot to foot.
“Regular breakfast is pretty good,” he said finally. Tammy nodded. “With coffee?” She nodded again.
We ate in silence. When the bill came, I stood up. “I’m going to the bathroom. I’ll see you outside.” She made a panicked, abortive movement, but no sound. “Your wallet should be in your purse.”
“She’s not ready to do things for herself,” Julia said from behind me as I washed my hands.
“I think she is.” I pulled a paper towel from the dispenser, lifted my gaze to her reflection in the mirror, and the floor seemed to drop six inches: Julia’s indigo eyes had darkened to chocolate brown, like Tammy’s.
“Imagine if it were me out there,” she said.
The bathroom door swang back and forth behind me as I walked rapidly back to the restaurant.
Tammy, pale-cheeked, was still at the table, but she had her credit card out, sitting on top of the bill.
“You—we should probably take that up front.”
After a moment’s hesitation, she picked up the bill and card and followed me to the cash register. She handed it over to the server without a word. He handed her a slip and a pen. She looked at me with those empty brown eyes.
“Sign,” I said. She wrote slowly. “And add five dollars, for a tip.” The faster she came back to the real world, the faster I’d be rid of her.
In the parking lot, I went to the driver’s side, unlocked it, then climbed in the passenger seat. Tammy looked at me, looked back over her shoulder at Denny’s, then up at the sky when a solitary raindrop hit her shoulder.
“Better get in before you get wet.”
She got in. I handed her the keys.
“I’ve done too much driving lately, I’m tired. Wake me in a couple of hours.” I curled up and closed my eyes. We sat there for nearly thirty minutes before she put the keys in and turned the ignition. I kept my eyes shut while the engine idled.
“I can’t,” she said at last. I waited some more. “I don’t know where we’re going.”
“No,” I agreed.
Another long, long wait.
“Where are we going?”
“North Carolina, near Asheville.” I sat up and turned to face her. “Unless you’d rather go somewhere else. I’ll travel with you wherever you want, get you settled somewhere.”
“Not Atlanta,” she said.
“All right.”
“North Carolina?” I nodded. She nodded back and steered us carefully out of the parking lot, onto I-81 South. Her driving was bad at first, but improved rapidly. She stayed slightly under the speed limit. I was starting to go to sleep for real when she spoke again. “What’s in North Carolina?”
“Woods, birds, a house. There’s room enough for two, for a little while.” Until Dornan can come and get you. She didn’t say anything but the engine hit a higher note.
I didn’t sleep but drifted in a theta-wave state for a while until she began to brake too hard and make abrupt lane changes.
“Take the next exit,” I said. “I’ll take over.”
When she sat in the passenger seat it was obvious that returning to the world had taken its toll; her shoulders were hunched around her ears, and she picked endlessly at her thigh where the corduroy had worn thin. A person who is new in the world—a child, or an adult in a foreign country or just out of hospital—needs safety, first of all, but then they need to know that they matter, that their opinions are considered, that there are choices. The trick is not to offer too many options at once.
I turned on the radio and skimmed through channels: the blandly perfect smile of fusion jazz, a huge-voiced country music diva belting out about how her dawg done left her,
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