Chapter 55

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Washington, D.C.

Fall 2006


Their raised voices reached Alex even as he stood outside the front door, his key hovering in the space before the lock. With a sigh, he forced himself to unlock the door.

Anna and Cleo quieted as soon as he stood in the doorway. He quickly shut it behind him and looked between them.

Tears streaked Cleo's face. He dropped his computer case and went to her. "What's going on?"

Anna's hands clenched into fists and her breath came hot. Her blonde hair hung over her shoulders disheveled, stringy, and unwashed. The redness of her eyes and chapped lips made her face look even more pallid. She wore the same leggings and oversized hoodie she wore most days. They were the only clothes that fit her now. Without a word, she spun and disappeared into the guest bedroom, slamming the door behind her.

While she paced a u-shaped path around the bed, Alex attempted to console Cleo. She could hear their murmurs and Cleo's exasperated tone.

Hot tears streamed down Anna's face. Neither of them would bother consoling her. They'd already learned to leave her be, to let her stew in her anger until it dissipated. If they tried to speak to her when she was like this, words would be said, words she could never take back, words she didn't mean. The monster was full of words and Anna regretted all of them.

The only reason she still lived in the house with them was because she had something they wanted. They tried to make her feel wanted, but she'd already blown through their welcome with her outbursts and the silences that followed them.

She scratched at her protruding belly as she paced. Some days she paced so much her feet ached like she'd walked miles. Thank goodness the guest bedroom had an adjoining bathroom with a shower. She needed to emerge from the room only for food and water. It was better that way, anyway.

Alex and Cleo's conversation drifted away and was replaced by chopping sounds from the kitchen. If Anna didn't come out to join them for meals, Alex would knock to coax her to eat. On good days, she did the cooking and had the meal almost ready by the time they returned from work.

Her sense of time distorted, but it seemed like the bad days outnumbered the good. When was the last time she showered? She undressed, running her hands over her belly. She couldn't help but touch it, so foreign and strange and yet still hers. What are you doing in there? Sometimes when she and Cleo argued, a little fluttering stirred inside her. Sometimes she felt it while she played her violin.

The shower calmed her. She combed her hair, rubbed lotion onto her belly—her skin itched—and dressed in the only clean pair of pants she had left. She put on her favorite and softest sweater. It hugged her too tightly around the middle. She replaced it with the hoodie.

Alex looked up from setting the table, smiling at her when she came over. "Just in time."

Cleo kept her back to them and stirred something bubbling on the stove.

Anna shoved her hands in the front pocket of the hoodie. "Need help with anything?" She watched Cleo. Alex finished setting the table and watched her, too. No one spoke.

Cleo turned off the stove and poured the contents of the pan into a serving dish. "Dinner's ready." She placed the dish on the table with a smile, but her eyes were downcast. "Anna, I made some tofu for you."

A peace offering. "Thank you. It looks great."

They sat and ate in silence until Alex complimented Cleo on the meal. That was all it took to revive her. Within minutes, the two chattered on about something Anna didn't pay attention to. She ate, just glad that the veil of awkward silence had been lifted. 

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