Page 74 of The Quiet Tenant

Maybe I’d do the same if I were him. Ask someone to keep an eye on my kid, I mean. My mom used to tell me all the time,When you have kids, you’ll understand.

I wish he’d believe me when I say it was just that one time.

It was after my mom died. I went back to school something like three days later. People kept looking at me. They thought they were being discreet but it was impossible not to notice them whispering, stepping out of my path as if bumping into me would trigger some sort of large-scale disaster.

I hate this school. I transferred two years ago, and I’ve never felt comfortable there. The only good thing about it is it has longer vacations than where I used to go. Everything was going well at my previous one, until my dad came home from a parent-teacher conference in a huff one evening. He asked me all kinds of questions about my math teacher, Ms.Rollins. It turned out she had askedhimall kinds of questions about us, about what my dad called our “home life” and whatnot. That was before my mom died, but after she got sick again. “Maybe that’s what she meant,” my mom said. “Maybe she was concerned.” But my dad said there was a fine line between concerned and nosy, and Ms.Rollins had crossed it. His mind was made up: I had to transfer. He found me a spot somewhere else—at a charter school in the next town over, where we didn’t know anyone—within a week.

So anyway, I went back to school after my mom died, and things got weird. I wanted to go home. But home meant Dad, and I didn’t want to be around him. For just a few hours, I wanted to be by myself.

I love him. Of course I do. It’s just that in front of him, I felt like I had to hold it together. And I didn’t have it in me to do that any longer.

I waited until after third period. Then, instead of going to Algebra, I walked out. No one saw me. I kept going until I reached the train station. No one stopped me, so I bought a ticket from the machine and boarded the Amtrak.

I rested my forehead against the window. My head tapped on the cold glass at every jerk, the vibrations of the train resonating through my body. After a few minutes, I could feel myself breathe again.

I’m not an idiot. I knew he’d freak out. That’s why I got off at Poughkeepsie. The plan was to buy another ticket and go back before anyone noticed. But while I was in line for the machine, someone came running. He put his hands on my shoulders and spun me around. My chin bumped against his chest; I bit my lip but he didn’t realize. He was too busy holding me tight, pushing me away to look at my face, then pulling me back in.

“What happened,” he said. It wasn’t a question. More like a lamentation. “What did you do. Why. Why would you do something like this.”

I was surprised to see him, but it also made sense that he’d found me. He’s always been like that—eyes at the back of his head,my mom always said, especially for anything having to do with me.

We walked to the truck together, his hand on my back. Like he was afraid I’d make a run for it if he let go.

He wasn’t mad. Too relieved to muster up the anger, probably. He made us shepherd’s pie for dinner. We ate in silence. It wasn’t until later, at night, that he found the words.

We were in the living room, watching a movie. He paused it and shifted in his armchair to look at me.

“You can’t do that again,” he said. His elbows were propped up on his knees, his hands in prayer position under his chin. “Never again. You hear me?”

I nodded, hoping he’d stop there, but he carried on. “You have no idea what it felt like, when people told me. The school called. They were this close to alerting the police.”

There was one thing I couldn’t figure out.

“How did you know where I was?”

“Your phone,” he said. “It’s trackable.”

That made sense to me. People at school are always dropping pins to each other instead of explaining where they are, even though there’s a total of maybe three meeting places in town.

My dad wasn’t done. “You have no idea what could have happened,” he said. His voice was low, his breath short and quick. “You could have been gone forever. Someone could have…and then what?”

I tried to interject, “Dad—” but it was like he couldn’t hear me.

“They would have searched for you. They would have searched the house. My stuff. Your stuff. They would have looked everywhere for you.”

He rubbed his temples and said it again. “You have no idea what could have happened.”

That was the only day I saw it. That was the day I brought fear into my father’s eyes.

CHAPTER 49

The woman in the house, so very close to a girl

You think he’s not going to go through with it. Too risky. But this is the man who left the handcuffs open. This is the man who drove you into town. This is the man who trusts the walls he has built aroundyou.

He lets himself into the room, frees you from the bed, motions for you to follow him downstairs. Breakfast with him and Cecilia—no school chatter today, no inquiries about tests or grades or notes to such-and-such teacher.

Christmas break has begun.

---