Of course he’d be tired… he spent the entire night taking care of me and my crazy, and he didn’t get the luxury of lying in bed nine times a day. I cupped his cheek and leaned up, kissing him softly, slowly, and he returned the kiss with the same passion, same need as always.

“What was that for?” he asked, licking the taste of my kiss from his lips.

I shrugged and gripped his hand tighter as I led him to the table where Tiny was emptying the bags of takeout. A few weeks back, Tiny and Nate had brought home something that hadn’t sat well with me and so I’d spent the next few days over the toilet bowl. Nate, being Nate, nixed the idea of fast-food style takeout, and now we all had to sit and eat food from some dairy-free, gluten-free, fat-free, happiness-free restaurant. I was almost positive Tiny went out afterward and bought the greasiest burger known to man, but he put up with it for me… and maybe because Nate made him.

They offered to help with the leaf project, and when I told them I wanted to do it on my own, something to occupy my time while they were gone, Nate agreed.

So, a month later, and with the help of Tiny running errands and getting supplies and Nate helping to hang the fairy lights, I stood at the bottom of the basement stairs with my hand on the light switch, a swell of pride coming over me at the idea of what I’d created. “Hurry up, babe. I want to see it,” Nate said, lying on the bed, one arm folded behind his head, the other out to his side, waiting for me.

I flicked the switch, casting darkness across the room, an excited giggle pouring out of me as I blindly made my way to the bed. Once settled in Nate’s arms, he asked, “Ready, baby?”

I nodded against his chest, hoping he’d feel it and a moment later, the fairy lights turned on, creating a glow directly above the bed. Trickles of light and reflections danced through the hanging strings of laminated fall leaves, and I exhaled slowly, a million emotions hitting me at once.

“Holy shit,” Nate breathed out. “It’s beautiful, Bailey.”

I tried to speak so I could agree with him but the knot in my throat prevented it. There was a burning behind my eyes, and as hard as I tried to fight back the tears, they came. They came fast and strong and just like that, I was crying. Not loud and ugly like I had the night I found out Nate had had a birthday without me, but quiet… calm… peaceful, almost. It was the moment realization set in and all my hopes and dreams lay lost in the darkness, and no amount of fall leaves or fake sunlight could save them.

“I missed my mother the moment she left me,” I said, maybe to him, or maybe just to get it out of my system. “I was lying in the backyard surrounded by leaves, looking up at the ones still hanging on the tree, the sunlight behind them… then I heard her car door close and the engine start and by the time I ran out there she was gone. It was almost like we are attached by an invisible elastic band and the moment she was far enough, it snapped from the force of the tension, and I’d felt that snap right away. There was a sudden ache in my chest, a twist in my gut, and I knew she wasn’t coming back. I couldn’t tell you how I knew, I just knew…”

Nate leaned up on his elbow, looking down on me as the backs of his fingers swiped at my tears.

“But this—this is different. It’s like small flames burning a hole in my memory, one flicker at a time and I don’t actually realize I’m missing something, or longing for it until something sets it off. Like now, I guess,” I whispered, struggling to find my voice. “I miss the cold wind against my cheeks, the dewy grass beneath my feet. I miss the moon and the stars, the sun and the sky. And I miss air.” I sniffed back a sob, my hands fisted at my side as Nate sat up and looked down at me, but I couldn’t look at him. So instead of facing the truth—the hurt that I knew I’d be causing him (because he’d done everything, everything, so I didn’t feel this way) I kept talking, kept piercing another knife through his heart. “It’s so stupid that I miss air, but I do. I miss the sounds of the birds calling out every morning, and the trains and the cars, and the smell of the trains and the cars and the people. I miss people, and I didn’t even like people.”

I inhaled a much-needed breath as I let my body catch up to my mind, and when my heart settled somewhere near my stomach, and my breaths had slowed, I looked up at Nate, eyes on mine, worried as always, and I wondered if he ever thought about it. If he even still cared? Or was this it now? Was this his plan?

I’d heard nothing on the missing persons report. Nothing about PJ. Nothing about my freedom. I tried to convince myself that it was his way of protecting me.

It’s better this way. The less you know, the less you’ll be accountable for if anything happens. Those were his words.

And as my eyes drifted shut and he kissed away the tears, silent promises created with forgotten regrets, I wondered if this was his plan now.

Me.

Here.

Trapped in the chaos of the silence.

Nate lay back down beside me, his hand holding mine as we stared up at the leaves. “I get it,” he finally said. “You have leaves, and I have hickory. That’s the color of her eyes. My mother’s. I know because after she died, I tried to match the color from my memory to all the paint samples on the walls at the hardware store and months later, I finally settled on one. Hickory. But if fear had a distinct color, I’d definitely call it that. It’s strange… that you can be so young… so naive… but the moment there’s something wrong with the person who created your heartbeat… you know. At least, I knew. I knew she was down here and when she saw me… the fear wasn’t just in her eyes, it was in her entire body… and even when the man—a man I’d recognized—slammed her against the wall with his hand on her neck, she kept her eyes on mine. She was mouthing something. Something I couldn’t make out and all I could remember was when it happened a few years earlier, I’d sat in my closet, singing that stupid song while I listened to her cries from her bedroom. But I believed I was bigger and stronger then, and my dad had shown me the basics of a gun. He’d wanted to teach me, but I didn’t want to learn. I was ten. I didn’t like guns. I liked to read books and learn languages and do science experiments. I wasn’t a criminal.” Nate spat out the last word like it was poison on his tongue. Then he shifted his weight, his hand coming up to rub his eyes, and when he was done, he sniffed once and looked up at the ceiling again, his breathing even. He was the epitome of the perfect calm, right before the most dangerous storm. “I remember my mom’s eyes widening when I came back down with the gun. The guy had his hand over her mouth, his pants to his knees…” Nate choked on his words, while I choked on my broken, barely beating heart. He sniffed again, and then turned to me, eyes red and raw and filled with a lifetime of tears. “I wasn’t aiming for her, Bailey, but when the gun went off, she fell to the ground, and the guy ran out of the house. Blood poured from her stomach, pooling at my shoes, and leaked onto the tie of my catholic-school uniform when I lay down beside her. I didn’t say a word. I just moved into her chest and made her put her arms around me. Then I looked up and into her eyes and all I saw was Hickory.”

34

Nate