Chapter 6: The Puppy in the Box

The first thing I did at my parents' house was go upstairs to my old room.

The dresser drawer where I kept my passport was empty.

I stood there with my hand on the wood for a moment, then closed the drawer softly.

My phone was in the front pocket of my coat, recording, and I stood still long enough for it to catch the silence.

Downstairs the dining table was laid with the good china.

My mother had cooked pot roast, my father's favorite, and she kissed me on both cheeks at the door.

"There she is," Joyce said. "My brave girl."

Dani was already seated, in a pink sweater, with a napkin in her lap and her chin on her hand.

She waved at me with her fingers.

My father stood at the head of the table and poured me a glass of water.

He did not look at me while he did it.

"Sit, sit," he said. "We have news."

I sat. I did not touch the water.

"We feel terrible about Wednesday," my mother said. "Your father and I talked. We think it's time we make it up to you."

"Don't be silly, Mom."

"No, really." She smiled at Dani. "Go get it, sweetheart."

Dani ran out of the room with a squeal, and came back carrying a cardboard box with holes punched in the sides.

She set it down in front of my plate.

Something inside it scratched and whined.

"Open it," my mother said.

I lifted the lid.

A golden puppy, six weeks old at most, looked up at me with its whole body wagging.

My throat closed.

"You said we'd get you another one," Dani said brightly. "I picked her out myself."

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