Сумерки

           Ifelthisquietlaughtershakethebed.

           Wesatthereforamomentinsilence,bothlisteningtomyheartbeatslow.IthoughtabouthavingEdwardinmyroom,withmyfatherinthehouse.

           "CanIhaveaminutetobehuman?"Iasked.

           "Certainly."HegesturedwithonehandthatIshouldproceed.

           "Stay,"Isaid,tryingtolooksevere.

           "Yes,ma’am."Andhemadeashowofbecomingastatueontheedgeofmybed.

           Ihoppedup,grabbingmypajamasfromoffthefloor,mybagoftoiletriesoffthedesk.Ileftthelightoffandslippedout,closingthedoor.

           IcouldhearthesoundfromtheTVrisingupthestairs.Ibangedthebathroomdoorloudly,soCharliewouldn’tcomeuptobotherme.

           Imeanttohurry.Ibrushedmyteethfiercely,tryingtobethoroughandspeedy,removingalltracesoflasagna.Butthehotwateroftheshowercouldn’tberushed.Itunknottedthemusclesinmyback,calmedmypulse.ThefamiliarsmellofmyshampoomademefeellikeImightbethesamepersonIhadbeenthismorning.ItriednottothinkofEdward,sittinginmyroom,waiting,becausethenIhadtostartalloverwiththecalmingprocess.Finally,Icouldn’tdelayanymore.Ishutoffthewater,towelinghastily,rushingagain.Ipulledonmyholeyt-shirtandgraysweatpants.ToolatetoregretnotpackingtheVictoria’sSecretsilkpajamasmymothergotmetwobirthdaysago,whichstillhadthetagsontheminadrawersomewherebackhome.

           Irubbedthetowelthroughmyhairagain,andthenyankedthebrushthroughitquickly.