Page 51 of The Design of Goodbye
So, when my dad suggested games and Liam seemed excited at the prospect, I couldn’t disappoint either of them. And I kind of wanted the feeling of normalness to last a little bit longer.
We were only on our fifth game of Lightning Bug Dash because, when we’d first discussed the rules with Liam, he’d been hesitant. It’d taken him three games to get comfortable enough to wander throughout the house instead of hiding in a corner of the living room. After the hundredth reminder from my dad that he could go into any room, Liam finally hid in my dad’s office, where I’d found him under the desk. There, we battled it out for a few seconds before he chased me down the hallway and into the kitchen, where I’d jumped onto the kitchen table. This action had surprised him, and I’d taken the opportunity and swiped his flashlight from him.
My bedroom door opened, breaking me out of my memories. I lifted my head so I could hear better. I could recognize my dad’s footsteps, and those weren’t his.
Liam.
I waited, but the footsteps stopped. Was he hiding? I should open my closet door and see if he had two flashlights yet—that’d decide my next plan of attack. Silently, I jumped down.
Pointing a stern finger at Thimble, I whispered, “Be quiet.”
When I opened my closet, I saw Liam right away. He was holding two flashlights and his painting. The one I’d placed in a teal frame and put on my nightstand.
Crap, crap,crap.
I made too much noise in my shock, and he turned to look at me. I stayed where I was, not sure what he was going to do. Was he going to chase me or stay?
I hesitated before walking over.
“Where’d you find this?” he asked, turning the frame so I could see the bird. “I painted this.”
“I know.” I pointed my flashlight up so he could see my face. He copied me. “I kidnapped it.”
“When?” he whispered.
“Remember the day we met?”
He snorted. “Hard not to.”
“Shut up.” I couldn’t hide my grin. “You missed it when you were picking up your stuff,” I explained. “I found it by the stop sign.”
“Why’d you keep it?” The question was simple, but his tone betrayed how much he wanted an answer.
“I had to have it.”
He glanced from me to the frame and then back to me. “Why?”
“Because it’s beautiful.”
“It’s just a bird.”
“There’s something beautiful in its simplicity. I connected to it.” Pointing to the painting, I added, “You can have it back.”
“Keep it.”
He handed it to me. I took it without a fight because I would’ve been devastated if he’d wanted it back. After I put it back on my nightstand, I sat on my floor, leaned against my bed, and patted the empty spot next to me.
Once Liam sat down, we stared at each other. With the amber light of the flashlight, the bruise on Liam’s cheek seemed more pronounced. Without thinking, I touched it.
He flinched and hit his arm on my nightstand.
“Did I hurt you?”
“No,” he answered. “I didn’t expect you to touch me. Sorry.”
Something compelled me to try again; this time, he didn’t flinch. His skin was soft and warm under my fingers. “Does it hurt?”
“Not right now.”
