Chapter 8 - The Apartment With Two Locks
Daniel's apartment had two locks on the door and I counted them every night before I fell asleep. The pullout couch was right next to his bed, close enough that I could see his watch on the nightstand. That first week he never once told me when to go to sleep. He just said, "I'm right here," and left the little lamp on in the kitchen so the light came down the hall.
In the morning he made the same thing. Toast cut in triangles, scrambled eggs, and a glass of milk that he didn't make me finish if I didn't want to. My bunny sat on the pillow while I ate. He had his keys ready by the door and my backpack — Mom had dropped it off with the caseworker — hung on the back of a chair.
"Ready, little bird?" he asked that first Monday. He said it the same way he had in the kitchen, soft, and waited.
I nodded and held bunny to my chest. He didn't touch my arm to guide me. He just opened the door and let me walk out first.
He walked me to the drop-off line at school and crouched down the way he always did, eye level. "I'll be right here at three," he said. "Same spot. If you need me before that, Mrs. Alvarez has my number."
I didn't cry at drop-off. I thought I would. But he waved until I was inside the doors and when I turned around once, he was still there.
Dinner was at six. He'd ask, "What do you want to help with?" and I'd say nothing at first, then on Thursday I stirred the noodles while he held the pot. He never reached over me. When it was bath time, he stood in the doorway with a towel in his hands.
"You tell me how you want to do this," he said. "You can wash yourself, I can help with your hair if you want, or I can just sit out here and talk to you through the door. No wrong answer."
The first night I said, "You stay out there."
"Got it," he said, and he pulled the door almost closed, leaving it cracked an inch so I could see the hall light. He talked about his day at the hardware store while I washed myself, and I kept bunny on the bathmat where I could see it. He didn't open the door until I said, "I'm done."
The therapist's office didn't look like a doctor's office. It had a low table, a dollhouse, and a bin of toys. Her name was Ms. Patel and she had a soft voice and didn't sit behind a desk. She sat on the floor.
She didn't ask me about Daddy right away. She asked about bunny.
"Does bunny go everywhere with you?" she asked.
I nodded. He was on my lap.
"Can bunny show me what a safe touch is and what a not-safe touch is?" she said. She had two paper circles, one green and one red.
I held bunny tight for a second. Daniel was in the waiting room, just outside the door Ms. Patel had left open a little, the way he did at home.
I moved bunny's paw to my shoulder and then to my hand. "This is safe," I whispered.
Ms. Patel nodded. "Yes."
Then I turned bunny around and pressed its face into my leg, right where the marks had been. They were fading now, yellow at the edges. "Daddy says secret game," I said, very quiet. "It hurts. He said don't tell."
Ms. Patel didn't gasp. She just breathed and said, "Thank you for showing me with bunny. That was very brave. Secret games that hurt are never your fault. And you were right to tell."
She moved the red circle closer without touching me. "If someone asks you to keep a hurting secret, you can always tell a safe grown-up. Like Daniel."
I put bunny's face back against my chest. I didn't cry, but my hands were shaking a little and she let me just hold him until they stopped.
On Saturday we met Mom at the diner on Main. The caseworker sat two booths down with coffee, close enough to see. Mom was already there when we walked in. She wore a sweater I hadn't seen before and she had a plastic container of cookies.
"Hi, sweetheart," she said, and her smile was tight. She stood to hug me but stopped halfway and looked at Daniel. He nodded once at me, and I took a half step forward. She hugged me quick and light.
We slid into the booth. Bunny was on my lap under the table. Mom pushed the cookies toward me. "Chocolate chip, your favorite. I made them last night. The house was so quiet without you."
I took one but didn't eat it right away.
She reached across the table, not touching, her hands around her mug. "I miss you so much, Sophia. Do you want to come home soon? Your room is ready. We could put the tree back up properly, just you and me."
Daniel looked at me, not at her. He didn't answer for me.
I held the cookie tighter and felt bunny's ear under my fingers. My voice came out small. "Will Daddy be there?"
Mom's eyes got wet fast. She glanced toward the caseworker, then back at me. "He's not in the house right now," she said carefully. "But honey, home is home. We can talk about all that."
I shook my head. I didn't mean to be mean. I just knew what I needed to say. "I don't want to come home if Daddy will be there," I said.
Her mouth opened a little. She didn't say I was lying. She didn't say I was confused. She just stared at the cookie in my hand and then at bunny.
"Okay," she whispered. "Okay, sweetie. I hear you."
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Daniel put his hand flat on the table, palm up, not grabbing. I put my cookie down and put my hand in his for a second, then pulled it back to hold bunny again.
We left the cookies there when we went.
