Chapter 24: One Bowl

We closed the diner at ten, and the last chair went up on the last table.

Eli had fallen asleep in a booth with the duck tie over his shoulder.

Russ carried him out to Mr. Hendry's car without waking him.

My mother took the cake home in the cooler, saying she would not have anything go to waste.

Caleb locked the front door and turned the sign.

Then he carried Poppy, sleeping in her paper crown.

I carried the rabbit, and we walked up Birch Lane in the snow.

It had stopped falling.

The lane was quiet, and every porch light was on.

On my steps I sat down and took out the little wrapped box.

I had picked it off the table at closing.

I untied the string.

Inside, in a nest of tissue, lay a brass key with a ring of green thread through it.

It was the spare to my back door.

It was the key that had let a woman into my kitchen while I was still in the hospital.

Under it, on a folded card, Troy had written in his square print.

I kept this longer than I had a right to. It's yours. Be loud when you want something. T.

I read it twice.

Then I held the key in my fist for a while.

"Do you want to throw it?" Caleb asked.

"No."

"Keep it?"

"I'll put it in the kitchen drawer."

I did, later, and closed it.

I felt nothing, and it was a clean nothing, and I was glad.