Neither of them looked away.
“Does your mother know you’re here?” his wife said.
“No,” the girl said.
“Are you afraid of what she’ll say?” his wife said.
The girl thought about it.
Honestly.
The way children think about things.
When they haven’t yet learned.
To give the expected answer.
“No,” she said.
“She’ll be angry.”
“But she’ll understand.”
“Because she would have done the same thing.”
“If she was brave enough.”
His wife looked at her husband.
At the man she had married.
Who had brought something into their life.
Before she was in it.
That was now sitting in a chair.
In a torn dress.
With bare feet.
And a scar on her arm.
From giving blood.
To save him.
She looked at the girl.
“Are you hungry?” she said.
The girl blinked.
It was not the question she had expected.
