Page 148 of Saving Sparrow
I’d then creep down the hall, ignoring the locked bedrooms I passed—hoping Sparrow wasn’t inside any of them. I’d reach the archway of the workout room, and he’d already be sitting up, waiting, the moon bathing him in its glow.
He’d draw the blankets back on my spot, allowing me to settle in before burying us up to the chest. Sparrow would then take the liberty of placing my hand on his cheek, holding it there while gently stroking his thumb over the fluttering vein at my wrist.
I’d fall asleep to him reciting chapters fromTales of the Pavilion Sea. He knew every beautiful word by heart.
We stopped pretending last night. After devouring a delicious meal ofSancocho,Sparrow had taken my hand and whispered,“Let’s go to bed.”
He wouldn’t even let me go upstairs for my things, instead lending me something of his to sleep in. We took turns showering in the bathroom he used, and afterward, he read to me while I braided hisdamp hair.
During the day, we read together, did chores together, and decorated for our upcoming Christmas celebration.
Sparrow’s parents didn’t celebrate holidays, so there weren’t many decorations in the shed. What we did find had been there long before he and Elliott arrived here, so much of it no longer worked. String lights, the talking wreath, the tree train set, and even the Merry Christmas banner had shriveled up and faded.
Sparrow created a banner by hand, using a sheet of paper for each big balloon letter he drew. We taped them over the mantel, covering the crucifix stain.
The trees on the property were all bare from the winter or dead, so I made a shabby wreath using twigs and pine from one of the trees out in the woods. Sparrow followed me there with his shotgun drawn, protecting our backs.
“Who, or what, would be crazy enough to be prancing around in this weather—besides us?”I’d asked.
“I’m not taking any chances with you,”he’d replied, keeping his gun and gaze trained on our surroundings.
Sparrow was my protector now, too. I hadn’t had one of those in a while, had almost forgotten what it felt like to have someone shield me in that way, to know nothing would get to me without going through him first. His words made me feel less alone; they made it okay for me to be weak, for me to allow someone else to be strong for me. A little more shame and guilt trickled into my heart because of it, but not enough to keep the smile off my face.
We used ribbon, paperclips, and a few safety pins as ornament hangers. We hooked them to buttons, baby pine cones, and origami birds before hanging them from our lopsided tree—nearly toppling it in the process.
Every now and then, Sparrow would catch me lost in my thoughts, sometimes while staring at him. Each time I assured him I was okay—and for the most part, I was. Existing with him in this new way kept me distracted. It made me forget about the stakes, about my reason for being here, and about all the reasons I didn’t want to leave.
“For the most part” didn’t mean all the time, though. Sometimes, I’d go back to the night I met The Good One. That’s what I’d called themother in the bedroom upstairs because I didn’t know her real name. She was the mother Sparrow and Elliott should’ve had.
“Don’t touch my baby! Stay away from my baby! I’ll kill ya! I’ll cut ya to pieces!”
I couldn’t shake those words from my mind. I’d never seen or heard such raw, unadulterated fear. The words were screamed from the top of her lungs, ripped from the depths of her… And I knew she meant them. If that gun had been loaded, she would’ve emptied it into me, and if I’d taken one step toward her and her baby, she would’ve torn me to pieces with her bare hands.
Something else niggled at me in between thoughts of her and living in denial with Sparrow. Something Joshua said to me.
“Can you tell me where your parents are?”I’d asked him.“Maybe I can call them, so you don’t have to be here alone.”
“They’re in the basement,”he’d whispered.“I don’t like it down there.”
Sparrow approaching snapped me from my thoughts and recollections of the last six nights. He rarely made a sound when he walked, but his aura shifted the molecules in the air, sometimes making it impossible to breathe.
I shoved his poorly wrapped gift under the tree before spinning around, using my body to block the center of the coffee table.
His steps slowed as he entered the living room with his hands behind his back, eyeing me curiously. “What are you up to?”
“Oh, nothing.” I shrugged. “Just, you know, checking on the decorations.”
“Is thatallyou were doing?” He closed in on me, trying to peek over my shoulder. “Is that another gift?” He sounded so cheerful and cute; his bright, toothy smile never ceased to make my heart flutter.
“It is, and you’ll promise me right now you won’t try to open this one.” I’d caught him red-handed yesterday, trying to pull the cheap tape back on his other gift.
“Busted!”I’d shouted at his back. He’d whirled around, sucking in a startled breath and dropping the gift. He immediately scowled, but then turned repentant when I told him how important it was that we be surprised. This time, I triple-taped the notebook paper we were using as wrapping paper to the small box.
“You only have to wait two more days, Sparrow,” I reminded him with a chuckle when he gave me a petulant look.
“I suppose I can wait two more very long whole days.”
We stood there facing each other as if we were both waiting for the other one to leave. I crossed my arms over my chest, rocking back on my heels, preparing to wait him out.
