political functions and leave me with Uncle Wiley. He'd show me how to play chess while we dug into our canned dinners with our spoons.
It won't help the silence any, but I still ask the question, the words are so thin they slip right out. "Brandon, do you know anything about my mom?"
The light of the lamp on his face casts a shadow over half of it when he turns and looks at me. He clears his throat and wipes his mouth with his hand. "No. Henri-- Mr. Smith is looking into it."
I nod. It is sort of a relief and sort of not to have no definite answer. There is still hope.
"That's why you're still here."
My eyes drop to my plate as I gather another forkful of food. It's only my second day. I haven't really had time to give thought to my living situation. And then I realize with another guilty pang that I've had all day and I spent it feeling sorry for myself and not thinking about what a burden I must be to him.
Brandon speaks at once, his voice steady and calm. "I just mean if you were wondering. Because he's going to want you to go with him at some point."
That doesn't make me feel better.
A sad fold forms over the corners of his eyes. Perhaps he realizes that there isn't really anything he can say that will make me feel better, so he leaves it alone.
I take a bite of my food and that seems to signal that the awkward conversation part of the night is past so we both return to silence. But after my second bite, I'm staring at the small flame on the lamp and really thinking about the situation. At some point, Henri is going to want me to go with him, but he doesn't even know me.
There's a question I'd never asked of those in control of my life before. The word comes out without my even needing to think it. It's there across the table before I've even realized I asked it. “Why?”
Brandon pauses, his fork lowering to his plate. “What?”
“Why would he want me? He hardly seemed interested in me when I did see him, and he's never been a part of my life. So why would he care?” I sound angry though I don't mean to sound that way, so I take a deep breath and keep my eyes on the table. “Sorry. This whole thing is just-- it's just hard to understand. I don't really know why I'm here, or what we did. Mom's always worked for the government to make things better. So I don't understand why they'd...” My voice slightly warbles right before I just let the words die. Crying in front of Brandon isn't acceptable, so I turn my head and blink through the mist of unshed tears until my vision is almost clear again.
Brandon is very still. He clears his throat after a couple of seconds and speaks before I have my eyes back in my control. “You'll have to ask Hen-- Mr. Smith when you see him.”
I turn back to him unsure how to take his words until I see his eyes and the steady way he looks at me. He's being honest with me. There's no way for him to know what's on Henri's mind. He could guess, but that won't help me right now. I need honest facts. I do need to talk to Henri about this, not Brandon.
“So I'll get to see him?”
“In a day or two.” Brandon's look softens ever so slightly and I'm not sure if it's just because that's what I'd like to see. “In the meantime, you really should start taking a look around outside. You should get used to it.”
I nod though I honestly have no intention of going outside for as long as I can hide away.
Five
"Henri's coming to see you today." Brandon says it with a piece of toast near his mouth, watching me carefully as if waiting for some reaction. "He should be here around lunch."
My toast scrapes down my throat, but there isn't really much to say to that, is there? I glance out the window looking at the roofs of tall buildings all stained and dirty. When the leader of a large tribe makes plans to see you, it's not as if you can just refuse politely.
Brandon leaves and I pick up the dishes to wash in the sink slowly with a thin stream of water.