I look back toward the
kitchen and see Gwen washing the dishes. I know I should offer to wash them since she made dinner and cookies, but oddly enough, I’m enjoying sitting here talking to Daniel, something I never thought I would like doing.
He waits patiently for me to answer, his eyes lacking any censor or morbid nosiness. Pulling in a deep breath, I lift my arm out in front of me. The distorted skin, even to my own eyes, looks revolting. I barely hide my flinch when Daniel puts one fingertip against the skin on my forearm and runs it down to my wrist. I don’t have much feeling left on the surface, so the flinch was more of a psychological reaction. He looks at them with fascination, and I watch him with the same feeling coursing through me, because there’s no disgust coming from him whatsoever.
I lift my head when Kelsey comes to stand by the couch. Her eyes are on my arm, and I drop it to my lap. Once again, her eyes show nothing as she takes a seat and opens her crossword puzzle book.
I’m just about to get up when Gigi comes around the couch, a small fur ball hanging from her mouth. She stops in front of Daniel and gently lays the pup on the floor.
“A puppy!” he squeals, sliding from the couch onto his knees on the floor. Gigi nudges the puppy with her nose and Daniel leans way over until his nose is almost touching the floor and pets the pup on the head.
Obviously Gigi feels comfortable enough to bring her babies around Daniel. His smile is miles long as he plays with the pup. Gigi gets up and ambles off, only to return a minute later with another puppy.
“How many does she have?” Daniel asks after Gigi leaves for the fifth time.
“Seven.”
“Wow!”
“How old are they?” a feminine voice asks.
I look up and see Gwen standing behind the couch watching her son play with the pups, a smile curving her lips.
“Four weeks,” I answer.
My eyes land on Kelsey. She still has her head bent to her book, but the hand holding the pencil isn’t moving, and I see her eyes flicker to the floor every few seconds. It’s clear she’s interested in the puppies, and I’m confused as to why she doesn’t just go visit them with her brother.
“You can go play with them,” I tell her quietly.
She lifts her head, and a spark of excitement lights her face before she quickly wipes it away. Before she drops her head back down, something flashes in her eyes, and the force of the emotion hits me square in the chest. It’s a look I’ve seen reflected back at me for the past four years.
I get up from the couch and walk to the kitchen. I feel Gwen’s eyes on me and hear her footsteps following me. I go to the cabinet holding the glasses, grab one out, and fill it with water. I gulp down the cool liquid, then take in several deep breaths, feeling like I can’t draw in enough air.
The glass clatters in the sink when I drop it. I turn around to face Gwen, my chest heaving, and see her watching me with concern. I’m sure my reaction is a bit confusing for her. She has no idea that the pain I witnessed in Kelsey’s eyes reminds me so much of my own.
I have no right to ask, it’s none of my business, and it’s an invasion of privacy. I’ve known this woman barely a day, and I’ve been less than friendly most of that time. But after seeing what I did in that girl’s eyes, it’s something I need to know. No kid should feel even half of what I feel on a daily basis.
I look up and meet Gwen’s worried gaze. She knows what I’m going to ask. She knows I saw the absolute pain in her daughter’s eyes.
“What happened to her?” I clear my throat when my question comes out hoarse.
She looks over her shoulder toward the living room for a minute before bringing her gaze back to me. Pain flashes across her face. She walks further into the kitchen and stops when she’s beside me. Her back goes against the counter and she wraps her arms around her stomach like she’s trying to hold herself together.
“She found her father, my husband, Will, dead in her bedroom a little over two years ago. She was six.” I mutter a curse and my heart sinks to my fucking toes. She talks over me. “We didn’t know it, but he had a blocked artery. She was crying for her bear and while he was in her room grabbing it, he had a heart attack. She hasn’t spoken since, except at the funeral, and a year ago when she asked me if I was going to die when I had the flu.” She stops and swallows thickly. “And to whisper in the dark at night, praying to God to bring her daddy back.” Her voice breaks at the end.
I don’t know what to say. I’ve been so wrapped up in my own grief that I don’t know how to deal with someone else’s. I hate the thought of these three going through something like that. It makes my chest ache.
I don’t know what I planned to do or say when I turn to face her, but I don’t get the chance before she gives me a sad smile and says, “She has selective mutism caused by a traumatic event. The doctors say she could one day all of a sudden talk, but there’s a chance she may never want to again.”
Her words hurt something deep inside me. My instincts tell me to reach out and comfort her, but I hold back, not really sure if I should. Her head’s down, and she takes deep breaths as she tries to get a hold of her emotions. When she lifts her head, her eyes are watery, but I can tell she’s forcefully pushing the tears back.
“I’m sorry,” she says softly. “I shouldn’t burden yo—”
“Don’t,” I say a bit more harshly than intended. Her eyes widen. “Don’t apologize for your pain. Never be sorry for something like that.”
She stares at me for a full minute before she nods. “Thank you.”
I turn away from her, not wanting her gratitude for something so significant. I look out the window and am surprised to see the sun already setting. I look over when Gwen moves away from me.