a ray of light bled through the edges of the door, but his father was nowhere to be seen.
“Dinner?” Justine asked, pointing at the table.
“Burgers again,” he said with a shrug.
“I’m sorry we didn’t find anything.”
“I have that box now, not to mention my scrapbook,” Henry said. “And a burger.”
“And ketchup,” she said, picking up one of the packets next to the bag. “I’d still like to see your scrapbook one day.”
“I’m free Sunday,” he said.
She threw the packet of ketchup at him. “You have a date tomorrow?”
He flinched, his hand a second too slow to stop it from bouncing off his forehead. “Something with my dad. No date.”
“Your reflexes kinda suck, you know?”
“I know.”
“Sunday?” she asked.
“Anytime.”
“Sorry about the ketchup, figured you’d catch it,” she said. “Pun intended.”
“Still not funny.”
She smiled. “Puns are an unappreciated art form.”
“For good reason.”
“Seems like an awful lot of food for just the two of you,” Justine said.
“He’s always telling me to eat more.”
“My mom’s always telling me to eat less.”
“It’s not all for us. I think maybe he’s feeding the homeless or something.”
“The homeless?”
“The other night he brought home a lot of food. I think he’s leaving it outside for someone.”
“Why?”
“After dinner, I found the bag on the back stoop.”
“Maybe he’s feeding a stray cat?”
“A stray cat that cleans up after itself? The empty wrappers were inside the bag.”
“Does he do that every night?”
Henry shrugged, then shook his head. “I don’t know. Only saw him do it one time.”
“Why didn’t you ask him?”
“Honestly?” he asked. “I never see him. Plus, even when he’s here, he doesn’t actually seem to be here, if that makes sense. The other night, he was talking to someone, but there was no one else in the room.”
“See,” she said, “this is the creepy house.”
He threw the ketchup packet back at her. She caught it mid-flight.
“I can see your backyard from my house,” she said.
“So?”
“So, tonight, maybe I’ll keep watch on your stoop, check out the neat-freak cat.”
As they left the kitchen, Justine slipped her hand back into his but let go before they walked outside. A slight breeze had picked up, salty with the scent of the nearby ocean, but not strong enough to dispel the heavy air or the gnats. Somewhere in the distance a car honked, and a neighbor down the street was mowing. Their arms swung back and forth as they walked next door, their fingers brushing against each other on every swing.
Behind his fall of hair, Henry smiled and then looked at Justine. She smiled back. It was like nothing he could remember.
fourteen
His father sat at the dining room table when Henry returned to the house, warped plates and plastic silverware next to unwrapped burgers in need of a microwave. A bottle of water beaded in the heat, leaving a ring on the table when Henry picked it up and finished off half of it.
“Got your blood tests back,” his father said, laying the paperwork next to his plate and pushing the folder across the table. His skin was pale, tight around his eyes and seemed to sink into his cheeks. He kept licking his chapped lips after every bite of dinner.
Henry glanced at the numbers scrolling down the sheet then pushed them aside. “And?”
“Are you taking your meds?” his father asked. “Some levels are too low. You need to take them every day, Henry. We’ve been over this before. Do I need to sit with you every morning and night to make sure you take them?”
“No.” Henry took a large bite, staring at his plate as he shook his head. “No.”
“It’s important you take them. Every day.”
“I know.” He ripped open a packet of ketchup with his teeth and squeezed it onto the remaining half of the burger. “I’ll take them.”
“I’m serious, Henry.”
“I said, ‘I know.’”
They finished the rest of the burgers without talking, his father watching him eat, the scrutiny a heavy weight in the silence.
“Any problems?” his father asked when they were done.
“Problems?”
“Other than the itching? Odd pains?” His father shrugged, looking everywhere but at his son. “Anything?”
I think parts of me are dying, Henry thought, but he just shook his head. “No, nothing, I’m fine.”
“Sure?”
“I’m fine,” Henry said.
“We’ll be leaving after breakfast tomorrow for the hospital,” his father said.
“Do I have a choice?”
“You know I don’t have the right equipment here. Has to be at work. Won’t take too long. In and out, then back home. I promise.”
“Fine.” Henry pushed his chair back.
“There’s more if you want it,” his father said,