Chương 10
Denise wanted to move to another state.
“You are not going to school tomorrow,” she said.
“I have math.”
“You will survive one missed lesson.”
“We have fractions.”
“You already know fractions.”
“I hate fractions.”
“Then this is excellent news.”
Chloe unfolded Mr. Arthur’s letter again.
“What did Rebecca mean when she said she wanted to see what he left behind?”
Denise sat across from her. “Probably more than the flag.”
“Like what?”
“Proof that he thought about her.”
“Did he?”
“The letter proves he did.”
“It only says her name.”
“Sometimes a name is a lot.”
Tessa came from the kitchen carrying three mugs. “Hot chocolate.”
“It’s ninety degrees,” Denise said.
“The air conditioner is making a heroic effort.”
“The air conditioner is leaking.”
“Heroes contain flaws.”
Chloe took a mug.
Tessa sat down. “I called Noah’s mom.”
“Rebecca,” Denise said. “Her name is Rebecca.”
“I know. I’m telling the story from Chloe’s perspective.”
“You’re not telling a story. You’re talking.”
Tessa ignored her. “Rebecca said the Army is sorting Mr. Arthur’s belongings tomorrow. She asked whether Chloe wants to be there.”
Denise frowned. “Why didn’t she call me?”
“She did. You turned off your phone.”
“I turned off unknown callers.”
“She’s an unknown caller.”
“Then text me her number.”
“I did.”
Denise checked her dark phone screen.
“Battery died,” Tessa said.
“I can see that.”
Chloe wrapped both hands around the mug.
“I want to go.”
Denise looked at the flag, the drawn curtains, and the baseball bat under the couch.
“So do I,” she said. “That doesn’t mean we should.”
“Why?”
“Because there will be reporters.”
“Then General Hale can make them leave.”
“He cannot order civilians off a public sidewalk.”
“He orders soldiers.”
“Reporters are harder.”
Tessa nodded. “Can confirm.”
Denise gave her a look.
Chloe said, “Mr. Arthur’s drawings are there.”
“You can have the drawings.”
“He might have more letters.”
Denise leaned back.
The building’s plumbing groaned behind the wall.
“Your meeting with Human Resources is tomorrow at eleven,” Tessa reminded her.
“I know.”
“You could go to the hospital together.”
“I am not taking her through the front entrance.”
“Use loading.”
“That is where employees enter.”
“Wear sunglasses.”
Denise stared at her sister.
Tessa drank her hot chocolate. “I withdraw the sunglasses.”
Chloe looked at her mother.
“Please.”
Denise rubbed the pale indentation left on her finger by years of wearing a ring she no longer owned.
“We go in through employee access,” she said. “You stay with me. You do not answer anyone. You do not wander. If I say we leave, we leave.”
Chloe nodded.
“And no stealing cafeteria cookies.”
“I haven’t stolen one since the first.”
“That is not the reassuring statement you think it is.”
The next morning, a security officer escorted them from the loading dock to a small records room in the basement.
Rebecca was already there.
She wore navy scrubs beneath a tan coat and looked as though she had come directly from work. A boy sat beside her, long-legged and narrow-shouldered, with headphones around his neck.
“This is Noah,” Rebecca said.
Noah stood.
He was taller than Denise. A rescue inhaler clipped to his backpack strap. He looked at Chloe, then at the canvas tote containing the flag.
“Hi.”
“Hi.”
Neither knew what else to say.
General Hale stood beside two cardboard boxes on a metal table. He wore a dark civilian suit instead of his uniform.
A patient-services employee read from an inventory sheet.
“One blue hospital gown, disposed of per infection-control policy. One pair gray sweatpants. One white undershirt. One pair socks. One pair brown slip-on shoes. One black wallet containing forty-three dollars, identification, and two expired transit cards. One set wire-frame prescription glasses. One spiral notebook. One plastic document case. Twelve paper drawings. One paperback novel. One unopened deck of playing cards. One wooden flag display case, transferred yesterday.”
Chloe touched the cardboard box.
“Where are his glasses?”
The employee handed her a clear plastic bag.
The lenses were smudged. One arm had been repaired with a strip of black tape.
Rebecca took a sudden step forward, then stopped.
“You can hold them,” Chloe said.
Rebecca accepted the bag.
“He had those when Noah was born,” she said.
Noah looked surprised. “I’ve never seen them.”
“He avoided photographs after he lost a tooth.”
“He had all his teeth,” Chloe said.
“He got a partial.”
“He never took it out.”
“He was trying to impress you.”
The idea pleased Chloe and hurt her at the same time.
General Hale opened the first box.
The twelve drawings lay on top.
Chloe lifted the German shepherd with glasses. Across the bottom, Mr. Arthur had written in shaky letters:
PROMOTED FOR SUSPICIOUS CONDUCT.
Noah laughed once.
Rebecca looked at him. “What?”
“Nothing. It’s dumb.”
“It is dumb,” Chloe said. “That was the point.”
She handed him the drawing.
He studied it longer than necessary.
The spiral notebook contained medication times, fragments of addresses, bus routes, and lists of names. Many pages had been torn out. On one page, Mr. Arthur had written Rebecca’s phone number three times. The first two contained reversed digits. The third was correct.
Beneath it, he had written:
CALL WHEN NOT ASHAMED.
The words after WHEN had been crossed out and rewritten.
Rebecca sat down.
Noah read over her shoulder.
“You knew he had your number?” he asked.
“No.”
“You said he didn’t.”
“I thought he didn’t.”
“He could’ve called.”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t he?”
Rebecca closed the notebook.
“I don’t know.”
Noah looked at General Hale. “You’re the guy who ignored the voicemail.”
Hale met his eyes. “Yes.”
“My mom watched that video twelve times.”
“Noah.”
“You did.”
Rebecca removed her glasses. “I was trying to understand what I was looking at.”
“You threw your phone.”
“I dropped it.”
“You threw it onto a couch.”
“That is a safe place to throw a phone.”
May you like
Chloe watched them.
Noah picked up the unopened deck of cards. “He taught me poker when I was five.”
