Page 21 of Even After Sunset

I stand in the middle of the kitchen, scanning my surroundings. I’m not sure what it is I’m hoping to see. Something to make me feel better, I guess. I rub my hands a few times up and down my thighs. I hadn’t realized how sweaty they were.

I take a shaky breath. I wish Xavier was here: we would be laughing about the whole incident by now. Even as flustered as I am, I can see that there is a glimmer of humor in this situation, if only I wasn’t so alone dealing with it.

But instead, I just feel… let down. Drained.

I know it’s just my first day, and this isn’t the end of the world. I can grasp at least a little perspective. And yet I can’t fully shake off the humiliation that sits like a heavy lump in the pit of my stomach.

The situation calls for some serious pick-me-up tunes. So I blast Taylor Swift’s“Shake it Off”as I slide out every tray from the shelf rack and dump the cookies into a large garbage bag, which I then twist into a double-knot. I shove the lumpy bag to the end of the galley, where it sits in front of the door, ready to be tossed in the morning. Good riddance to the first night from hell.

After that, I settle into the bench at the table and finish setting up my CreateHire account. It’s a site people can use to hire freelancers for pretty much anything, and I’m hoping to sell some of the book covers I’ve started designing using Photoshop. I took an online course for fun and became sort of obsessed. And I figure I have nothing to lose by putting some covers up for sale.

The next time I peer at my phone, it’s already nine-thirty. Silas needs to be back by ten for his check-in call to Richard. He needs to actually bein the camper. That was one of Richard’s stipulations: he has to do his check-in calls every night at ten, on Facetime, so that he can prove he is legitimately in the camper and not just calling from somewhere else and saying that he’s here.

Ten o’clock comes and goes. Then, at two minutes past ten, the door rattles open and Silas ambles in. The smell of hot dogs and beer wafts in as he closes the door quietly behind him.

“Hey,” I smile. “You’re back.”

He affords me a cursory glance as he leans against the counter ledge, his fingers already punching into his phone. Richard answers on the first ring. I can’t see Silas’ phone screen from here, so I don’t see Richard’s face, but I can hear him.

“Silas! Good man… right on time.”

Silas just nods, once. “Hey.”

“How was the rest of the day?”

“Good.”

“I spoke with your social worker and with your probation officer and everything’s all worked out.”

“Cool.” Silas says. “Thanks.” Only he doesn’t really sound like he thinks it’s cool or that he’s thankful.

“So you’re in the camper right now?”

Silas does a quick pan of the kitchen with his phone. The side across from the closed sales window, thankfully.

“That’s great. Thank you for checking in on time.”

Another nod from Silas.

“You and Jackie are getting along?”

I wait for his answer, as if it will reveal something about his feelings toward me. But of course, all he delivers is a one-word answer. One syllable above an actual grunt.

“Yeah.”

Richard is quiet for a second.

“Look, Silas… I’m sure you’ve got a lot going through your head right now, and probably a lot of emotions. And I understand that you don’t know me and you don’t want to talk. That’s completely understandable.”

He pauses, presumably waiting for some sort of response from Silas.

He doesn’t get one. But he continues, anyway: “I’m going to give you some space, if that’s what you need. And a bit of time… a couple of days to just collect yourself, alright?”

“Yup.”

“But you still need to do your check-in call every night. Same time. Ten every night, okay?”

“Yeah.”

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