Chapter 70: Face
Chapter 70: Face
Amy pushed through the front door after school, her backpack strap sliding from her shoulder to the crook of her arm. She didn't catch it.
The new textbook was still on the table where she'd left it. She walked over and flipped to the inside cover. The little figure next to the key still had the same face — blank, nothing there at all. She studied it for a moment, then pulled a red pen from her pencil case, leaned over the table, and drew two eyes in that empty space. Round ones, one bigger than the other. Then a nose, small and crooked, tilting left. Finally a mouth — a curved crescent, smiling.
She stepped back when she was done, tilted her head, and looked at it for a beat. Then she closed the textbook and ran downstairs.
"Kyle. I drew a face."
Kyle was sitting at the table. He looked up at her.
"You saw?"
"Yes. Eyes, nose, mouth."
"Does it look good?"
"It looks good." She gave a small smile.
She ran to the mantle and stretched onto her toes to bring down the red crayon box. She lifted the lid and pulled out the red crayon to look at it — only a stub left, barely the length of a fingertip. She put it back, closed the lid, and set the box on the mantle again, lining it up with the key and the birth certificate. Then she ran back and grabbed Kyle's hand.
"Kyle. Did anyone come today?"
"No."
She nodded, let go, and climbed up onto her chair. Irene brought out the stew — chunks of potato, carrot, thick-cut beef, steam rising off the broth. Amy picked up her fork and speared a piece of beef, leaning over to place it in Kyle's bowl.
"Kyle. You eat."
Kyle picked it up and put it in his mouth. The meat was tender, the temperature just right.
"How is it?"
"Really good."
She smiled again, small, and started on her own food. After a few bites, her fork stopped.
"Kyle. What else did he ask?"
"He asked if the little figure you drew was me."
"What did you say?"
"Yes."
She nodded, scraped her bowl clean, jumped down from the chair, and ran upstairs. Kyle followed. By the time he reached her doorway she'd already flipped to the inside cover.
The little figure next to the key had a face now. Round eyes, a crooked nose, a crescent mouth smiling up at her.
She looked at it for a few seconds, then pulled the blue pen from her pencil case and leaned back down over the page. This time she drew a second figure beside the first. Taller, holding a key.
She stepped back.
Two figures standing side by side. The short one held a crayon and was smiling. The tall one held a key and had no face.
She looked at them for a moment, then closed the textbook and ran downstairs.
"Kyle. Tell him. I drew the tall one."
"Okay."
She reached the foot of the stairs and tossed back a quick "I'm going up to draw" before disappearing.
Kyle picked up his phone and texted Seer.
[She drew a tall figure next to the key. Holding a key. No face.]
A brief silence. Seer replied, [He says — the tall one's face. Who draws it?]
Kyle looked at the screen and typed, [Her.]
[He says — wait for her to draw it.]
Kyle set down his phone.
---
At first light Kyle got up and walked to the window, lifting the edge of the curtain. The street corner was empty, morning sun just cresting the rooftops across the way. He let the curtain fall and went upstairs, stopping in Amy's doorway.
She was still asleep, curled on her side under the covers, one hand stretched out over the edge of the blanket and resting on the pillow, fingers loosely bent.
He looked at her for a few seconds, then pulled the door quietly shut and went back downstairs.
Irene was standing in the kitchen doorway, holding out a mug of coffee.
"Kyle. Are you walking her to school today?"
"Yeah."
He took the mug and drank. Footsteps from upstairs — Amy came down quickly, hair already tied back with a blue hair tie, the sleeves of her red sweater rolled up twice. She spotted Kyle.
"Kyle. Are we having toast today?"
"No."
"Then what?"
"Ask your mom."
Irene carried a bowl of cereal out and set it in front of her.
Amy ate fast, then jumped off the chair. "Let's go."
Kyle stood. Irene watched them both. He pushed open the door and walked with Amy out into the sunlight.
She moved at a quick clip, her steps small but sharp, not reaching for his hand. At the school gate she stopped and turned around.
"Kyle. See you this afternoon."
"See you this afternoon."
She ran through the gate. At the entrance to the building she suddenly stopped and looked back at him — two seconds — then pushed through the door and vanished into the dim hallway.
Kyle turned and walked back. At the street corner, he stopped.
A white envelope lay on the ground, no postmark. He crouched and picked it up, tore it open. Inside, a single sheet of paper, one line.
'Has she drawn the tall one's face yet?'
He folded the paper and tucked it in his pocket, then walked home at a faster pace. When he pushed through the door, Irene was standing at the window with the curtain parted a crack. Dorothy sat at the dining table knitting, the bamboo needles clicking in a soft, steady rhythm.
"Kyle. Did he send a letter?"
"Yeah."
He pulled the paper from his pocket and laid it on the table. Irene picked it up and read it.
"'Has she drawn the tall one's face yet?' He's asking you."
"Not yet."
"What are you going to tell him?"
Kyle didn't answer. He went upstairs and into Amy's room, standing in front of the table.
The inside cover was open. Two figures. The short one had a face. The tall one didn't.
He looked at them for a moment, then went back downstairs, picked up his phone, and texted Seer. [Not yet. She's waiting.]
A moment later Seer replied, [He says — wait.]
Kyle set down his phone. Irene watched him.
"Kyle. He's waiting?"
"Waiting."
She nodded.
---
That afternoon Kyle went to meet Amy. The school bus swung around the corner, brakes squealing. The door opened and kids spilled out one by one. The last one off was her — blond hair, blue backpack, red sweater with the sleeves rolled up twice. She saw him and ran over.
"Kyle!" She grabbed his hand, her fingers cool and firm.
They walked back together. She moved fast and didn't say anything. At the front door she stopped.
"Kyle. Did anyone come today?"
"No."
She nodded, pushed inside, and called out, "Mom! Kyle says no one came today!"
Irene was at the stove, flipping something with a spatula. "Got it."
Amy climbed up onto her chair. Kyle sat down beside her. Irene brought the food out — same as before, potatoes, carrots, beef. Amy speared a piece of beef and put it in Kyle's bowl.
"Kyle. What else did he ask?"
"He asked if the tall one's face had been drawn yet."
"What did you say?"
"I said not yet. That you were waiting."
She nodded, finished her food, jumped down from the chair, and went upstairs. Kyle followed.
She stood at the table and opened to the inside cover. Two figures side by side. The short one had a face. The tall one was blank. She looked at it for a moment, pulled out the blue pen, and bent over the page.
She drew one eye on the tall one's face. Round. Then another. Round. Two eyes side by side, one a little bigger, one a little smaller.
She stepped back, looked at it for a beat, closed the textbook, and ran downstairs.
"Kyle. Tell him. I drew the eyes."
"Okay."
She reached the stairs. "I'm going up to draw."
Kyle picked up his phone and texted Seer. [She drew the eyes. Two of them. Round. One a little bigger, one a little smaller.]
Seer replied immediately. [He says — what about the nose? The mouth?]
Kyle looked at the screen and typed, [Wait for her to draw them.]
[He says — waiting.]
Kyle set down his phone. Irene came out of the kitchen drying her hands and sat down across from him.
Kyle looked toward the front door. It was open. The corner of the street was empty. The late afternoon light slanted low across the pavement, pulling the shadows out long.
She wasn't done yet. He waited.