Ezoic
Mrs. Higgins came and took both my hands in hers. Her grip was firmer than you’d expect. “You’re a good girl, Ariel,” she said. She held my gaze with an intensity that surprised me, like she was pressing something into me she needed to make sure I kept. “Don’t let this world take that from you.”
I made a joke about the world needing to take a number. She laughed and told me to get some rest.
I walked home through the heat, grateful for the shade my own porch finally offered.
That night I lay on my back with my hand on my belly and stared at the cracks in the ceiling. I thought about the foreclosure notice. I thought about the mortgage, the bills, the shrinking account balance, the small collection of fears I had been cataloging for months and adding to daily. But underneath all of it, just barely, I felt something different. Lighter, somehow. Like a window had been opened in a room that had been shut up too long.
Ezoic
I fell asleep before I could figure out what it was.
The siren woke me before sunrise.
Blue and red light cut through my blinds and painted the bedroom walls in stripes of panic. I sat up too fast, heart already slamming, mind cycling through every possible explanation. Lee, causing some kind of trouble. The bank, though banks don’t send patrol cars. Some catastrophe on the street that was going to somehow make everything worse.
I pulled on the first cardigan I found and stepped outside into the early morning dark.
There were two patrol cars and a sheriff’s SUV at odd angles in the street. Neighbors stood in clusters on their lawns in pajamas and robes, faces tight with the particular expression people get when something has gone wrong right next door. I stood on my porch and wrapped my arms around myself and tried to look steadier than I felt.
A tall man in uniform came toward me. Broad shoulders, serious face, the kind of presence that makes you want to stand up straighter without quite knowing why.
Ezoic
“Are you Ariel?” His voice was clipped but not unkind. “I’m Sheriff Holt. Could we step inside for a moment?”
The living room felt very small with him standing in it. His radio crackled softly. His gaze moved over the family photos on the wall, the stack of mail on the counter, the baby gear I had slowly been accumulating in the corner of the room, and then settled back on me with something careful in it.
