Chapter 14 - The Night She Slept Through
I didn't plan to leave her on the shelf. I just stood at the edge of my bed that night and looked at the bookcase and decided.
The light was on low the way Dad always left it, warm and yellow against the white shelves. The bunny with the blue ears was sitting where it always sat. I held the silver frame against my chest for a minute and my fingers were tight around the edges the way they'd been for weeks. Then I walked over to the bookcase and set it down myself. I slid it between the bunny and a stack of little board books so it wouldn't fall. I turned it just a little so the glass faced my bed.
Dad was in the doorway. Jenna was next to him. Neither of them had told me to do it.
"You want her there tonight?" Dad asked. His voice was quiet.
I nodded. I touched the top of the frame once to make sure it was steady. "She can see me from there," I said. It didn't feel like a whisper that needed answering. It just felt true.
He didn't move to fix it or move it to my pillow. He just crouched down a little so his eyes were level with mine. His navy sweater made a soft sound against the doorframe. I could see the silver of his watch on his wrist and the thin band on his finger catching the low light.
"Okay," he said. "She stays there if you want her there."
Jenna didn't come in. She stayed by the doorway with her hands together. "That's a good spot," she said. "Right where you can see her in the morning."
I climbed into bed myself. Dad pulled the blanket up and I didn't pull the frame with me. My hands were empty and that felt strange for about three seconds, and then it didn't.
I fell asleep looking at the little silver rectangle across the room.
I don't remember the middle of the night. Dad told me later what happened.
Around midnight he and Jenna checked on me. That was their routine then. He'd finish loading the dishwasher and she'd turn off the living room lamp and they'd both come down the short hallway to my room. The floor creaked in the same place every time. I didn't hear it.
He said I was on my side with the blanket kicked down to my knees, breathing slow. My mouth was a little open. My hair had fallen over my cheek and I hadn't brushed it away. My hands were tucked under my cheek, not reaching for anything.
Jenna stood behind him and put a hand lightly on his arm. He said she didn't say anything at first. She just watched.
"She didn't wake up," he told me the next morning. "You just kept breathing."
I believe him because when I woke up the room was different. The night light was still on but the window was gray at the edges, that early morning color before the sun is really up. The house was quiet. No hallway talking. No dishwasher.
I sat up. The blanket slid off me. For a second my chest did that tight thing it used to do when I couldn't find the frame right away. My eyes went to my pillow, to the floor, to the space beside my stuffed dog. Nothing.
Then I looked at the bookcase.
It was still there. Exactly where I'd left it. The silver frame caught the first white light coming through the blinds and made a small bright line on the wall. Mom's picture faced my bed. I hadn't knocked it over in my sleep. Nobody had moved it.
I didn't scramble out of bed. I just sat there in my puff-sleeve dress, my legs crossed under the blanket, and looked at it. My breathing was still slow from sleep.
I smiled before I even stood up. I felt it happen. It wasn't a big smile. It was just my mouth turning up because she was still there and I was still here and nothing bad had happened in between.
Dad must have heard me move because the floor creaked again and he appeared in the doorway in his gray pants, his hair still flat on one side from his pillow. Jenna was behind him in her cream sweater, holding two mugs.
"You left her on the shelf," he said softly, like he was checking.
I nodded and pointed. "She stayed."
He came and sat on the edge of my bed. He didn't pick me up right away. He just let me look at the bookcase with him.
"She did," he said.
May you like
Jenna smiled at me from the doorway. "Good morning," she said. "You slept all the way through."
I did. And when I finally slid off the bed and walked to the bookcase, I didn't clutch the frame to my chest the way I used to. I just touched the silver edge with my fingertips, to say hi, and left it facing my bed where it could stay.
