Page 141 of Rules

She tilts her head to the side and starts walking, but she must know I’m not following because after a few steps, she stops and looks over her shoulder. “Hurry up, will ya? You don’t want me to freeze these old bones more than they already are.”

Like that’s a completely normal explanation, she starts walking again, and this time I do follow after her. I’m not sure why exactly, except that even though I’m leaving soon, I don’t want to get on her bad side. Plus, it’s not like I have anywhere to be, or somebody waiting for me anyway.

* * *

The warm heat blasts in my face as soon as we enter Mrs. Brown’s cozy little house. She took off her boots and coat quickly, going to the back of the house without giving me a second glance.

Not sure what to do, I follow suit. Out of my jacket, I rub my tingling palms together and bring them to my mouth, hoping my warm breath will help melt the cold that settled deep in my bones.

“How about some tea?” I follow the sound of Mrs. Brown’s voice to find her in the kitchen. A bag of groceries is left on the table, and she already sets up one of those old-fashioned kettles on the stove.

“I could use something hot to warm up.” I give in, still looming in the doorway.

It’s like I’ve walked through time and ended up back in the eighties. Dark brown cabinets with yellow countertops. A big island in the middle of the room with cherry red barstools neatly tucked beneath.

“Sit,” she offers, unpacking the contents of her bag. “This will be done soon, and then we can warm up with the tea.”

Figuring there’s nothing else to do anyway, I do as I’m told.

Quiet settles over us as Mrs. Brown unpacks her groceries and swiftly puts them away just in time for the kettle to boil.

I watch her prepare the tea with slow, deliberate movements, the silence making me jittery. My leg bounces nervously underneath the table.

“I thought you’d have questions by now,” I say, unable to take it a second longer.

Why am I really here? I should have never agreed to come.

Mrs. Brown sits down on the opposite side of me, setting both of our cups on the table. “Are you going to give me the answers if I ask the questions?”

Ugh, this woman is infuriating, but she knows me better than I give her credit for.

“Probably not,” I reply honestly, wrapping my fingers around the cup and pulling it closer to my face. “Why did you ask me to come then?”

“You looked like you could use some help.”

I crook my head to the side. “Offering a place to stay to all of your students, Mrs. Brown?”

“Only the ones in need.”

I give her a look, calling her on her bullshit, but she simply shrugs. “Just because this is the first time something like this has happened doesn’t mean I wouldn’t do it for another one of my students. Now are you done, or are we going to keep playing this cat-and-mouse game?”

Sucking my lower lip, I let her words settle in. Opening up to other people, letting them in, that was as foreign to me as Chinese. Most of the time, I feel like something is wrong with me, that a part of me, an essential part, was gone and I’d never get it back. Courtesy of my dear mother and my upbringing.

“It’s not like saying it out loud will change anything.”

“But sharing your burdens with other people will help you gain perspective.” Moving her cup out of the way, her hands reach for mine across the wooden surface. “You have to learn how to let people in before all this darkness you carry swallows you whole.”

If there is anything left to swallow.

I look at our clasped hands.

Lia is my best friend—wasmy best friend since by now she probably hates me—and I never found it in me to tell her what happened. I never told her how bad things got in my house, never confessed what has happened to me, never told her my real feelings…

She’s not Lia.

Lifting my gaze, I meet Mrs. Brown’s patient eyes. There is knowledge of life hidden in the wrinkles adorning her face.

But the bottom line is: is there anything left to lose? All that I had was either taken away from me, or I had to give it up in order to save it. Nothing she says or does can change who I am.

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