I was staring at my thirteen-year-old daughter as I stood in my kitchen.
Dan shifted to Sam’s shoulder. “Sammie, is that accurate? Everything?”
She gave a nod. “She spent a minute sitting on the gym floor during the mile today. The instructor advised her to improve her diet.” Sam gave me a steady stare. “When the school lunch program pays for it, she eats it there. That doesn’t happen every day.”
The room leaned a little.
I reflected on the dinner I had just served, Lizie’s meticulous portion control, and the way she drank two full glasses of water.
I apologized to Sam. “I shouldn’t have approached you in that manner.”
Sam’s face relaxed a little. “I instructed her to return tomorrow.”
“All right,” I replied. “Take her.”
She returned the following night and the night after that, and by Friday she was humming at the kitchen sink while doing dishes.
The following evening, I made additional spaghetti, flavoring the sauce with the unique anxiousness of someone who is attempting to do the right thing and hoping that the shopping budget would let it.
Lizie returned, embracing her backpack. Before anyone could ask her to, she cleaned her plate and then gently wiped her area of the table.
She had become a quiet staple by the end of the week. At the counter, she and Sam completed their schoolwork. She did the dishwashing without being asked. She dozed off while seated at the counter one evening, woke up abruptly, and apologized three times.
In the corridor, Dan grabbed my arm.
“Should we give someone a call? She really needs help, doesn’t she?”
“And say what?” I muttered. “That she’s worn out and her dad is broke? Dan, I have no idea how to deal with this. Really, I don’t.”
“It appears that she hasn’t slept.”
“I am aware. I’ll speak with her. Gently.”
I made an effort to learn more from Sam during the weekend.
Sam gave a shrug. “She doesn’t talk much about her house. Her dad works a lot, that’s all. Occasionally, the electricity is turned off for a few days. Mom, she acts as if it’s not a huge concern, but she’s constantly exhausted—and perpetually hungry.”
Lizie looked paler than usual when she arrived on Monday. The rucksack fell off the chair and onto the floor as she took out her homework from the kitchen counter.
I saw what she had been carrying as I knelt down to assist after the backpack burst apart and the papers scattered across the linoleum.
There were papers everywhere. I noticed it when I moved to gather them.
Crumpled banknotes. A coin-filled envelope. FINAL WARNING was written in red ink on a cutoff notification. And a worn notebook with meticulous calligraphy on a page that had fallen open.
At the top was the word EVICTION.
A list lay beneath it: If we must depart, what do we take first?
“Lizie,” I said. I was having trouble putting the words together. “What’s this?”
She froze. Her fingers reached her hoodie’s hem.
Sam had entered from behind me. “Lizie. You didn’t warn me it would be that bad.”
Dan showed up at the doorway and looked around the room before reading anything else.
I raised the envelope. “My dear. Are you and your father at risk of losing your home?”
She gazed at the ground. When she did speak, I had to bend forward since her voice was so soft.
“My father instructed me not to tell anyone. ‘It’s nobody’s business,’ he said.”
I answered, “That’s not quite true, Lizie.” I spoke in the same tone as I did on Sam’s darkest evenings, when she was little and terrified of things that I couldn’t see. “You are important to us. However, if we are unaware of what is going on, we are unable to help.”
She shook her head. She seemed to have realized that crying used energy she didn’t have, as evidenced by the fact that tears were rising but not falling.
“He claims that others will view us differently if they are aware. As if we were begging.”
Dan lowered himself to her level and knelt next to us.
“Are you able to stay somewhere else? Family? A friend?”
“We tried my aunt. She lives in a two-bedroom home with four children. There was not enough space.”
Sam took a seat next to her. “You don’t need to hide this from us. Together, we’ll find a solution.”
I gave a nod. “You’re not alone in this. No more.”
For a long while, Lizie remained silent. Then she glanced at her phone’s broken screen.
“Should I call my dad? He will be angry if I say anything.”
“I’ll speak with him,” I said. “We just want to help.”
Paul attempted to smile despite having oil stains on his jeans and a tired expression on his face when he arrived at the door.
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