Eight

Soon it gets dark enough that Mack returns to lower the blinds and draw the curtains. I pretend to be asleep when he switches on the lamp beside my bed and turns off the overhead lights. I lay perfectly still, taking slow measured breaths until he leaves. His steps are light, unhurried, as he makes his way down the thickly carpeted hallway.

After a short time in the bathroom, the sounds of running water stop and he moves into what must be another bedroom further down the hallway. The sounds now are quieter as he readies himself for bed.

And then the house is still.

Even then, I don’t move. Not until I know he’s gone to bed. Not until I’m sure he must’ve fallen asleep.

Then, only when the house is completely silent do I sit up, peel the covers off me, and use both hands to shift my injured leg to the floor.

At the first contact my toes make with the floor, I suck in a breath at the sharp pain. For several minutes I sit on the edge of the bed, just breathing in and out as I work myself