Robbers

forty - two

// forty – two //

The Hunters' home was much too quiet.

Ella visited the following week after being discharged from the hospital. Her right arm was still constricted by a sling and so her parents had been hesitant to let her drive, but Ella had needed to see Julie again – especially to see how she was managing in the aftermath of Ryan's trial.

But now, as she sat beside Julie at the tiny kitchen table with nothing but the soft ticking of a clock between them, Ella began to wonder if this had really been the right thing to do. She hadn't realized how much it would hurt to return to this house, whose family had now lost two sons.

The ceramic mug was so hot that it was difficult to hold. Ella's palm felt scorched if she gripped the off-white mug for too long, so she shifted the position of her left hand every so often – though she welcomed the warmth. The Hunters' house was chilly, to which Julie had immediately apologized upon Ella's entrance. She'd admitted that they'd had to shut off the heater due to the price of oil. The milk Julie had offered from the nearly empty fridge was a day from expiration, but Ella had gratefully accepted anyway.

As Ella sipped the black tea lightened by a splash of milk, she took in Julie's appearance from across the small expanse of table. The older woman's mousy brown hair was twisted up into a sloppy bun by a rubber band, but the many strands that had slipped loose were slick with grease. There was a pale brown stain dotted against the material of her worn, blue sweatshirt, a substance that might have once been coffee. And, of course, the dark grey bags seemed to have set up a permanent residence just beneath her dulled gaze.

It was safe to say Mrs. Hunter had not been taking care of herself. Ella wondered if she had even managed to get much more than a few hours of sleep collectively over the past week.

The silence of the room was becoming stifling, so Ella shifted in the plastic seat and awkwardly cleared her throat. "If you don't mind me asking," she began cautiously, "how did Mr. Hunter take the news about Ryan?"

Julie exhaled heavily, and Ella nearly regretted asking. The older woman held her own tea with wrinkled hands, and stared down into the mug's contents – black with only one scoop of sugar – as she eventually began to speak.

"It...I suppose I should say he didn't take it well. My husband..." Julie trailed off for half a moment, her eyes slightly glazed as she lost herself in the dregs of her tea. "My husband has always had a temper. He couldn't understand why Ryan had let himself get caught. I – those were his words, not mine. He was just...disappointed."

Her gaze slipped past Ella's figure, either accidentally or purposefully, but Ella cautiously twisted in her seat all the same. She saw it immediately, in the living room just beside the couch: a broken hole in the wall's sheetrock, roughly the size of someone's fist.

"I haven't gotten around to fixing it," Julie told her, and Ella saw her weak smile when she turned back around. Ella's expression must have given herself away, and Julie hastened to add, "He didn't – he didn't take it out on me. Please don't worry about that, Ella Jane. He just...snapped. I told you, he has a temper."

It isn't safe, Ella wanted to say. You can't be around him. You have to leave this house.

But these were the words she couldn't say. She had no business telling Mrs. Hunter to abandon her husband for the sake of her own safety. It wasn't her place to intrude. Was it?

Julie sipped her black tea, but her hand shook slightly as she raised the mug to her thinned lips. Ella tore her gaze away from the subtle hint of weakness – the tiny fault line in a seemingly strong composure.