Page 35 of What We Don't Say: Part One
The resident phone is in the small call room beside the counselor station. Miller carries the tote for me because my arms are full of Sloane’s hoodie, Idris’s sweater, and Calliope’s scarf.Garrett’s shirt stays folded on top, and the communication cards knock lightly against my wrist with each step.
Inside the call room, Miller sets the tote on the chair beside me, then stands near the door with her tablet held against her hip. She doesn’t hover over the phone. She gives me room to lift the receiver myself.
My fingers shake when I dial.
Garrett answers on the third ring. “Theo?”
My throat closes around the shape of nothing. I curl one hand into Calliope’s scarf and press the receiver harder to my ear.
“You got the package,” he says, and there’s pleasure in his voice. “Good.”
I nod, then remember he can’t see me. My mouth opens, but the sound doesn’t come.
“That’s all right,” Garrett says. “You don’t need to force words for me.”
The scarf twists in my fist. Honeyed pear and vanilla tea rise beneath my chin, and I close my eyes while the receiver warms against my ear.
“We want you here,” Garrett says. He gives the words time to settle before continuing. “Your room is ready. The linens were washed without scent. There are extra blankets in the lower drawer because Sloane said the room looked too bare, and Idris had the lamp changed because the first bulb was too harsh.”
My eyes sting as I press Calliope’s card against my chest, over the place her name is written. The call room smells like lemon cleaner and plastic, but for a second, the house sits over it: Sloane’s hoodie in my lap, Idris’s sweater against my arm, Garrett’s voice in my ear, Calliope’s scarf caught between my fingers.
“The communication cards are in the kitchen and the sunroom now,” Garrett says. “Sloane put a set by the couch too, thoughhe pretended it was Idris’s idea. Calliope asked that the sunroom stay the way you saw it, with the plant book left out.”
I hold the scarf tighter.
“There will be food you know,” Garrett continues. “Grilled cheese, fries if you want them, tea, lemon bars if Calliope has anything to say about it. No one is expecting you to perform comfort faster than you feel it.”
My breath slips out before I can stop it.
“That’s good,” Garrett says, his voice lowering. “I can hear you breathing. That’s very good, Theo.”
The room around me feels less thin for a moment. I can almost see the kitchen island, the sunroom glass, the booth at the café. I can almost feel Sloane across from me, Idris behind the messages on Calliope’s phone, Calliope’s shoulder warm against mine until the second she moved away.
“Sloane said you did well at lunch,” Garrett says. “Idris said you ate more than he expected.”
My face warms before I can hide it, even though Garrett can’t see me.
“And Calliope,” Garrett says, pausing on her name long enough that my whole body waits. “Calliope was very happy you came.”
The sound in my throat breaks before I can swallow it.
“She’s very easy to talk to, isn’t she?” Garrett asks.
I look down at the blue scarf in my hand. My thumb slides over the place where the fabric is worn thin near the edge.
“I know how special Calliope is,” Garrett says. “We all do.”
For a second, I can breathe all the way in. The sentence moves through me like it belongs with the scarf and the note and the plant book waiting in the sunroom.
Then Garrett continues, still in the same voice. “That’s why we’re going to be careful with her too. You’ve had two big visits,and placement is close. Everything can feel intense right now, especially when someone makes you feel safe.”
My eyes open, and the call room comes back around me in pieces: gray table, white wall, receiver cord twisted around my wrist.
“That doesn’t make the feeling wrong,” Garrett says. “It means we make sure no one carries too much before you’re settled.”
I think of the booth. Calliope’s fingers around mine. Her mouth against mine. The inch of space she put between us after Garrett’s message.
My stomach twists as the scarf slips lower in my lap.
