All of the information Jade wanted was built into Sam and Ellie’s detailed backstory. For her past especially, Squirrel had kept as close to reality as possible. Lies made from truth were easier to tell and easier to believe. For the Magpie, the difficult part was appearing to care – care about Sam’s non-existent, dead wife and her non-existent ex-boyfriend.
“I don’t know a lot,” he answered, taking no offense and showing little concern. Everything was clearly stored in his memory and he tried to speak as if Sam’s story was his own. “Jen, my wife, and I were together less than a year. She used to work as an escort.” He paused, wondering if they understood what that meant. “She sold herself for money. She was clean when we met, but I learned later she’d also been an addict. Heroin.”
His version of the story was sterile, too detached for what should be a tragedy, but he was naturally emotionless. This piece of fiction wasn’t going to change that. Hopefully, the story itself would at least be enough to stop any more questions.
“Ellie’s father was in a gang and an old client. Right after we were married, he came looking for Jen. When he realized he had a daughter, he tried to take them both away. I wouldn’t have let him, but Jen couldn’t handle the anxiety, I guess. She overdosed.” He took a breath, picturing Charlotte’s battered body in the dark apartment, and he could at least feel the tragedy of the story’s ending. “Ellie was there and watched her die.”
Pausing, he looked over at Ellie, peacefully eating her breakfast at his side. She wasn’t paying any attention to the tale he was telling. He wasn’t even sure she’d fully adopted her new name yet, and if it was her mind’s defense to go blank, she wouldn’t be affected by anything he said.
“We couldn’t stay in Boston,” he continued, his eyes staying fixed on his fake daughter instead of returning to the siblings. “So I picked a random place away from everything for a break. To start over. I doubt Ellie’s ever had good experiences with men, but I can’t tell you why she doesn’t speak. I’ve never heard her say anything.”
Aside from the location, the rest of that was accurate. He pet her wavy hair, pinned back on both sides by Jade with different colored bobby pins to keep the mess in check. She looked up at him, the grey-blue shining, then returned to her food.
Motionless and speechless, the Glass twins sat wide-eyed across from them. He had been blunt, so he couldn’t blame them, but he wasn’t interested in saying more and went back to eating. After a few minutes of uncomfortable silence, Jade cleared her throat again.
“That’s...” Her soft voice trailed off, not sure how to respond even after processing his story. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Then don’t say anything,” he replied without looking up. Pity was a meaningless emotion and he was certain Jade didn’t have any useful experience or advice to offer. “You asked why Ellie’s the way she is, so I told you what I know.”
“Yeah, but...” Again, she trailed off, probably realizing there was nothing appropriate to say in this situation. She couldn’t begin to understand that kind of life and anything else would just sound obligatory or condescending.
Sam placed his fork on the empty plate in front of him, then piled Ellie’s on top. “I already have a job today and tomorrow.” He tapped his hip and Ellie stood on her chair. With his free arm, he lifted her, and little arms wrapped tight around his neck. “But maybe next week? For preschool.”
Without another word, he turned and brought the dishes into the kitchen, then headed to his room to get ready, leaving the two still sitting at the table in shock. He knew by now the siblings liked to talk between themselves but it never went any further. They were welcome to believe what they wanted about him, especially since the truth was so much worse. At least with this, maybe any judgment of the odd little Ellie would be replaced with some understanding.
“You’re awake?” Jack sounded tired and he flashed Sam a forced smile as he entered the kitchen. He was sitting alone at the long island, beer in hand, and the combination of sunken brow and dull eyes made him look uncharacteristically gloomy. It was enough to make Sam pause.
“Ellie has nightmares.”
Jack’s chin bobbed, barely acknowledging the comment, then he took a swig. “Poor kid.” After another larger gulp, he pointed the bottle toward him. “Poor you.”
Without responding, Sam continued to the sink. The day had been awkward after his story earlier and he’d purposely avoided the twins to escape moments like this. Usually, unlike the other people he met, he didn’t hate talking with Jack. He didn’t spend the entire time waiting for the other party to shut up, and he didn’t have to figure out the most appropriate thing to say or the best way to excuse himself. Instead, Jack was perfectly content with a mostly one-sided chat, and his anti-social personality didn’t seem to be a bother. Sometimes, it felt the same as speaking to Squirrel - full of pointless details or random thoughts he didn’t need to know, but not tedious or annoying. There were even times Jack would come looking for him, actually hoping to talk. As if it was somehow enjoyable. He supposed some people were just chatty.
Right now, though, he just wanted a glass of water and to return to bed. He wasn’t in the mood for sympathy or meaningless chit-chat. Leaning with his back against the counter, he took a sip, examining Jack as he nursed his beer. For the first time since entering The Glass House, that signature warm smile was missing from his face.
“You can stop staring at me.”
Sam didn’t move his gaze. “I’ve never seen you without a smile.”
With a huff, Jack put his bottle down, staring back. The space between his brows scrunched and he was clearly unhappy now. “Everyone has bad days. People can’t smile all the time.”
“You seem to.”
“Well, I don’t.” He was already a little tipsy. Sam wondered if it was just from that one drink or if this was a second round. “I try, but sometimes I can’t.”
Sam wanted to give him an okay and head back to the room, but no matter how he tried, he couldn’t bring himself to leave, so he walked over and sat on the stool beside him. “You don’t have to smile all the time. It’s fine to be upset.”
“Like you? Do you ever smile?”
The question was probably rhetorical, just the alcohol and whatever was bothering him controlling his words, but Sam answered anyway.
“No.”
Jack immediately turned his head in response, dark green eyes fixed on him. He stared for a long moment. Then, after a short breath in, he asked, “Wanna drink with me?”
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