Chapter 7
I woke up on the couch to daylight where there shouldn't have been daylight. The gray siding outside the window was bright, the wooden door's grain showed every nick, and the warm porch light that had held us the night before was gone, washed out by November sun. I hadn't meant to sleep there.
My neck was stiff. The blanket from the floor was over me now, the light-colored patterned one Sophie had been standing on when I came home. Someone had covered me with it. Under it I was still in my undershirt and pants. My uniform was not on me anymore.
It was draped over the dining chair across the room.
I sat up slow. The camouflage held its shape over the chair back, the shoulder patch facing out, the sleeves hanging straight. In the dark it had been skin. In the morning light it looked like a costume someone else had left behind. I could smell coffee from the kitchen.
Sophie came out of the hallway before I could stand. Her hair was pressed flat on one side from sleep, her white pajamas with the purple cuffs dragging a little at the ankles. She didn't say anything at first. She walked straight to the chair and pressed her face into the sleeve of the uniform.
I didn't move. She curled her little body against the chair leg and pulled a fold of the fabric over her like she was hiding. Her bare feet tucked under her.
"Hey, bug," I said. My voice was rough.
She looked at me, then back at the sleeve. "It smells like outside," she said.
Lauren came to the kitchen doorway with a mug in both hands. She'd changed into jeans and a sweater. Her eyes went from me on the couch to Sophie on the floor to the uniform between us.
"You were out cold," she said quietly. "I didn't want to wake you."
I nodded. I tried to stand and my knee popped loud in the quiet house. I felt clumsy in my sock feet, too big for the living room. I reached for the coffee and Lauren handed me the mug, but I didn't know where to stand while I drank it. At home downrange you never just stood around. Here the kitchen was too small to pace in.
Sophie stayed by the chair. She rubbed the cuff of the uniform between her thumb and finger.
The knock came at ten. Three short raps on the wooden door. Lauren glanced at me, then opened it.
It was Mrs. Henderson from two doors down, holding a covered dish with both hands and wearing a quilted vest. She'd watched Sophie sometimes before I left. Her eyes went past Lauren and landed right on me, then on the uniform on the chair behind me.
"Well, look at that," she said, and her face broke open. "Daniel. You're home. Lauren didn't say you were back till next week."
Lauren tightened her grip on the door. "He got in late last night. Surprise."
Mrs. Henderson stepped halfway in without really being invited, the way neighbors do here. She set the dish on the entry table and looked at me in my undershirt, then at Sophie still curled against the chair.
"Thank you for your service," she said to me, loud and formal. Then softer, to Lauren, "How long you got him? For good this time?"
The question hung there. Sophie stared at the uniform sleeve.
"Still figuring logistics," Lauren said quickly. "We're just glad he's safe."
Mrs. Henderson nodded like she understood more than she did. "Well, the whole street prayed for you. Let us know if you need anything. Sophie, honey, you got your daddy back."
Sophie didn't answer. She pulled the uniform fold closer.
After the door closed, the dish was on the table and the house felt smaller. Lauren looked at me standing with the mug, my shoulders up near my ears, not leaning on anything.
"You don't have to stand at attention in the kitchen," she said. Not mean, just observing.
"I know," I said. I tried to lean against the counter. It felt wrong. I set the mug down and then picked it up again. My hands didn't know what to do without a task.
She watched me for a second longer. "You want cereal? There's still Cheerios."
"I can get it," I said.
May you like
In the daylight I could see everything I'd missed. The stack of mail sorted into piles on the counter. Sophie's shoes lined up by the door, too small. The dent in the wall where the duffel had rested last night. The bag was still there against the gray siding outside, visible through the window, and the blanket was now half on the couch, half on the floor where Sophie had dragged it.
Sophie finally let go of the chair and came to me. She didn't reach up. She just leaned her weight against my leg and stayed there, her head against my knee, breathing. I put my hand on her hair. The uniform stayed on the chair behind her, empty and in the way, and neither Lauren nor I moved to hang it up.
