I’m supposed to get out. Walk around and get her. Carry her up the stairs, if she insists on going in. Instead, she walks around the front of the car, and she opens my door.
She wraps her hand around the inside of my elbow. Her touch is redolent of casual affection. As if she knows me.
“Come on, Luke.” Her cheeks pinken as a stiff breeze tosses her blonde hair around her. “Do you care if I call you Luke? Hansel doesn’t seem right anymore, and you know, Edgar is a little cheesy.” She smiles, clearly looking to keep the mood here light. “Why did you choose that, anyway?”
I look down at her, standing in the dirt while I am frozen in my car. It’s a simple question, easily answered—I’m a fan of Poe—but as I stare into her face, I can’t seem to get my mouth to work.
“Never mind,” she tells me gently. “I think I’m talking too much. I am nervous. I can’t lie. This is weird, but I’m glad you’re with me. I don’t think I could do it without you. Luke…? Are you okay?”
“I don’t think I could do it without you…”
No, I think. She couldn’t. “Wouldn’t,” I murmur.
She frowns up at me. “Luke?” Her hands flutter over me, landing on my leg, my hip. “Is something wrong? I’m kind of nervous here, and maybe I’m just being paranoid, but I’m pretty sure you’re acting weird. Do you want to go?”
I shake my head and get out of the car. “Let’s do this,” I say.
Black spots flicker at the edges of my vision. I ignore them. I take Leah’s right hand in my left one and we walk up the stairs, taking them slow.
“I want to ask you about something,” Mother says through the hole in my room’s door. It’s been a long time since she’s come here—four or five days, I think. It’s been this way, more sporadic, less frenzied, since she found Boy Blue.
“What do you want?” I say flatly.
She doesn’t want me anymore. I understand. This always happens.
I bite into my lip, and I pray that she will open the door. I don’t like being in here by myself. I miss her bed. I miss her hands.
“Do you remember that time you told me about the triplets?”
I nod slowly, even though I don’t.
“It was years ago. Right after you got here. You mentioned triplets. Three blonde girls. They lived in Boulder?”
“Yeah…” I wrap my arms around my stomach, because that memory hurts.
“You said their names were ‘L’s. Laura and Lana and…”
“Leah,” I say, feeling breathless.
“Yes. Well, I have a question. A question and an idea. I would need your help for it to work. I would need you to remember, Hansel. I’m going to open the door now. Can you tell me their last name?”
“Do you have a key?” she asks. “No, wait. It isn’t locked.”
I watch as Leah pushes the door open. “Oh, wow. This still looks like your entry hall. I can see you painted here, but— Luke?” Her hands touch my arms, fingers warm and gentle. “Luke, what’s wrong?”
It wasn’t supposed to be this way.
I wasn’t supposed to tell her, but I have to.