The Wire Hanger

Epilogue

At night there are no sirens. Sometimes I still wake up, though, unable to keep from dreaming of underground dungeons and blood and women with bombs strapped to their bodies. But when I wake with the taste of ash and iron in my mouth, I pad out from my bedroom into our tiny living room.

We have an apartment now. It's smaller than our house was, but we don't need that much space. The three of us pile on a couch meant for two and watch movies. One of the neighbours gave us their leftover screen; it's got a crack along the side but other than that it still works. In the middle of the night I don't dare turn it on for fear of waking my mom or Esau, but I curl up on the couch and look out the window.

We don't have a view of much of anything. When they first showed us around they offered us a view of the lakebed but I shuddered and my mom said that the gardenview apartment would be just fine, thank you. Later she told us it's better to be looking forward.

Now that it's fall Esau and I have been in school for a few months. It's not like I'm used to – all kinds of ages together, and we go outside a lot. Last week we spent three days in the forest, identifying trees and charting stars. When we got back we learned to cook the things we found that were edible.

And my mom is happy, I think, although she's very quiet.

One night there's a knock on our door. I jolt upright, thinking that this must be it, that they've come for us at last, but it's only Noah. He stops by a lot; he lives in the building next door, with a bunch of other kids who've come over. Most of them don't have parents, or wish they didn't, so they band together. David checked it out before he let Noah stay.

"What time is it?" I whisper as I open the door.

"Two," he says. "Ish." We don't have a clock in our house, just the blinking time on the TV screen when it's on.

"What's going on? Is everything okay?"

"Everything's fine," he says. "I just want to show you something. Can you get away?"

A door creaks behind me and Esau stumbles into the hallway on his way to the bathroom. "Don't mind me," he mutters. He still has trouble looking Noah in the eye. I think he still feels guilty for giving away the Professor's house, although even David has begrudgingly told him to forgive himself, that he forgot Esau was just a kid.

"I'm going out for a bit," I say. "Don't worry, okay? I'll be back before Mom wakes up –" at this I cast a questioning look at Noah, who nodded – "but just in case."

"Fine," he says, still heavy with sleep, and closes the bathroom door behind him.

Before he can change his mind, I pull on a fleece sweater and my shoes and follow Noah out the door. The seasons have started to turn. The leaves are catching fire and the sun sets earlier, leaving a chill in the air that's not entirely unwelcome. I feel like it keeps me awake. I don't just mean in terms of having my eyes open. Sometimes I feel like I never want to sleep again.

Noah leads me to the side of his building, where the fire escape clings on till about ten feet from the ground. I've visited a couple of times, but the kids there seemed suspicious of me, and anyway he likes the break of coming to visit me. And he likes the way my mom dotes on him, although he would never admit it. "C'mere, I'll boost you up."

I look at him. "You have got to be kidding. Aren't we over this?"

"It's just a couple of feet," he says. His voice is matter-of-fact, never pleading, and I sigh and relent, stepping into his cupped hands and letting him boost me up against the wall, where I grab hold of the bottom rung of a ladder and start to pull myself up. Once I'm on the first landing, he jumps effortlessly and follows. I've been working out, a little, without telling anyone; I don't know what's coming but I think it would be good to be prepared. But still, I don't know that I'll ever be able to do what he does without even thinking about it. That's okay, though. There are other things I can do.