Page 45 of Main Event

I call ahead to give Linda a heads-up, but not too early. Sam answers the door. Linda steps out of the kitchen, drying her hands on a dish towel—her calm and unhurried demeanor reflecting someone who has been cooking without rushing. Kelly sits on the couch as we step through the door, then stands to follow us when we move into the kitchen.

I introduce Deja to Sam, Linda, and Kelly—brief, not overwhelming. Linda has made something that smells like the whole house knows someone is coming. Then I do something that costs me, because every instinct says to stay and manage the room. I find a reason to be somewhere else. If I’m there, the conversation is about me. And this needs to be about Deja.

After a little while, I hear the back door open and then close. A quick glance out the window confirms that Kelly and Deja are in the backyard.

I don’t know what they say. I’m not supposed to.

What I know is that they’re out there for two hours, and when they come back in, Deja’s posture is different. Not relaxed because Deja doesn’t relax. But something has shifted. The half-step back she keeps between herself and every adult in her life is slightly smaller.

Kelly looks at me from across the kitchen.

I look back.

She gives me the small nod that means, She’s okay. Give her time.

KELLY

I don’t know what Andi told her about me.

I don’t ask. I just take her out to the backyard because, inside, there are too many adults, and having adults in the same room for this conversation would make it impossible. We sit in the backyard oasis that Andi helped create for a while without saying anything. I’ve learned that silence tells you what someone is carrying without requiring them to hand it to you directly.

Deja is carrying a lot.

“How long have you been here?” she asks eventually.

“Almost two years.”

She nods. Processing.

“Did you want to come?” she asks.

The question cuts straight to it. I like that.

“No,” I say. “I was terrified. I’d been in seven placements before this one. I was good at making myself useful fast and invisible faster, and I thought if I could just be small enough, nobody would have a reason to move me again.” I look at the yard. At the garden Linda has been fussing over all summer. “I didn’t know how to be somewhere permanent. I didn’t trust it was real.”

Deja is very still.

“What changed?” she asks.

I think about the real answer, not the easy one.

“I watched them choose me,” I say. “Not because I was useful. Not because I performed well. They had a dinner where things went wrong—I was upset about something, I don’t even remember what—and I was terrible company. And they didn’t treat me any differently afterward.” I pause. “That was the first time someone didn’t treat me differently after I stopped performing.”

Deja looks at her hands.

“Andi,” she says. “You trust her?”

“Yes,” I say. Without hesitation.

“Why?”

“Because she helped when everyone else looked away,” I say. “Before anyone asked her to. Before she and Luke had worked everything out. No matter what it cost her.” I look at Deja. “She was my sister in the house I lived in before this one. She protected me then. She’s never once tried to manage what I can handle. She just tells me the truth and lets me decide. Then she’s there to help me work through it however I need her to.”

Deja is quiet for a long time.

“I saw her having coffee with someone,” she says. “Someone I recognized. I thought⁠—”

“I know,” I say. “She told me.” I pause. “Did she explain?”