she liked to take the prosthetic off because it meant she could relax—not unlike the way most women felt about taking their bra off at the end of the day. But she didn’t want to relax that much here—what if they had to leave quickly? What if those men found them here and they got taken away and her leg was left behind? She’d really be screwed then. It wasn’t like she could grab any old prosthetic to replace it, assuming she could find such a thing in the first place.
“I do have a cane,” D.J. said. “Would that help you?”
Red realized she’d need to unbend a little. She’d accepted this man’s hospitality and as such she also had to accept his house rules.
She decided to keep her leg on once she removed her shoes. D.J. disappeared into another room and returned with an ordinary wooden cane with a curved top and a rubber bottom. Red stood carefully, putting more weight on the cane than on her left leg. Riley and Sam and D.J. all watched her while she did this.
“I should have sold tickets,” Red said, unable to keep from sounding cross. She hated it when she was treated like a sideshow.
“Apologies,” D.J. said. “I just wanted to ensure that the cane was a good solution for you. I will prepare lunch now.”
His response made Red feel churlish. Riley and Sam followed D.J., but not before Sam gave Red a look that told her she should apologize too.
“What should I apologize for?” Red muttered to herself. “I’m the one who was being stared at.”
She left her backpack in the laundry room with her shoes. It was the first time in months that it had been out of arm’s reach, and she felt the loss of this more than her missing limb. The pack had become a very heavy security blanket.
D.J. took a package of ground beef out of the refrigerator. The normalcy of this action struck Red hard enough that she felt her eyes well up.
That’s stupid, she thought. Why is a package of beef making you cry?
She knew why. It was because it was a Thing People Used to Do, buy groceries and store them in the refrigerator and cook them, and seeing it made things feel ordinary again when they were not. Just seeing a working refrigerator was enough to make Red feel sentimental, especially when all of the food she’d eaten for weeks had come out of boxes and cans and wrappers. Sometimes she felt she’d kill for the taste of fresh lettuce, and she’d never been the biggest fan of salads before the Crisis.
D.J. glanced from the package of beef to the kids and up at Red. “I was going to make bibimbap, but perhaps hamburger would be better? I have some rolls in the freezer and the rice can stay in the cooker for a while.”
“No way, I love bibimbap,” Riley said excitedly. It was the first time he’d seemed like himself since D.J. had caught them trying to break into his house. “Mrs. Mikita used to make it for us all the time when Mom and Dad both had to work the late shift.”
“Mikita?” D.J. said. “That doesn’t sound like a Korean name.”
“She was Korean but her husband wasn’t,” Sam explained. “She also made a lot of pierogies.”
“That’s an interesting combination,” D.J. said, his eyes crinkling as he smiled. “Well, I’m afraid I don’t have any fresh vegetables for the bibimbap, only pickled and frozen ones.”
“The important question is . . .” Riley said, his voice comically dramatic, “. . . is do you have kimchi?”
“Of course I do. Although I can’t say that’s a question most American kids would ask,” D.J. said.
“I’m a weirdo,” Riley said cheerfully.
“You sure are,” Sam said.
“The only weirdo here is the person who wants to marry a grilled cheese,” Red said.
Sam stuck her tongue out at Red, who responded in kind.
“And what about you?” D.J. said to Sam. “Do you also like kimchi?”
“It’s okay.” Sam shrugged. “It’s not my favorite thing but I’ll eat a