Her Silent Cry

Forty-Nine

The man was gone again. She didn’t tell me where he went, but I loved it when he was away. I could skip through all the rooms. I could jump and run and make as much noise as I wanted. Mostly. She still reminded me that when he got back, I’d have to be quiet again. Then she must have felt guilty because she said, “I have a special treat for you today.”

I ran into the kitchen and climbed into one of the chairs that surrounded the table. “Is that for me?” I asked, pointing to the small plate with a cookie in the center of it.

She smiled and the sight made the words stick in my throat. She never smiled. “Yes,” she said. “It’s for you.”

I wanted it to last forever, but the cookie—and the smile—was gone in an instant. “More?” I asked.

“I’m sorry. You haven’t had much to eat lately. I don’t want you to get sick. Too much sugar isn’t good.”

My shoulders slumped. She touched my hand. “When I take you home, you’ll be able to eat as many cookies as you want.”

I smiled back at her.

“Go play,” she said. “Before he gets back.”

I was jumping from the couch to the armchair when a knock sounded at the big door to outside. She came out of the kitchen, a finger pressed to her lips. I had to be quiet again. She pointed toward the room, but I didn’t want to go back there, so I jumped down and hid behind the chair. I listened to her steps. Then the door opening. A voice I never heard. “Hello, dear.”

I poked my head out from behind the chair for just a second. Long enough to see that the silver woman was at the door. I strained to hear all her words but only caught some of them. “… next door… thought I would say hello… need any help…”

Without a word, she slammed the door on the silver woman, turning and pushing her back against the door as if the silver woman might try to get in. But we both heard her steps fade.

Her fingers trembled as she turned the locks. Over her shoulder, she said, “She didn’t see you. She didn’t see anything.”

I ran out from behind the chair. “Cause you didn’t let her in. You have to let her in. She can help us, maybe.”

“No,” she insisted, shaking her head. “No. No one can help us.”