Lucas slept in Maya's room that night. Not in the bed, of course. He was too much of a gentleman for that. He slept on the floor beside the bed, floating in and out of consciousness. Every few hours, from the recesses of his dreams, he would hear someone crying, and he would wake up and find that it was Maya. He'd kneel at her side and hold her hand until she fell asleep again. When he woke up and it was light out, her eyes were dry.
"Let's go," she said.
He took a shower while she packed. After, he went outside to phone his mother and let her know that he was coming home with Maya. She was none too pleased, but she honeyed her voice to cover the fact. "Just make sure she's not a nuisance to your father," she said. "He's been so stressed about work lately, and you know how much he dislikes having the household disrupted."
"She won't be," Lucas promised, and hung up.
Maya read the expression on his face when he walked back inside. "They don't want me there, do they?"
He didn't answer. He couldn't tell her that they didn't, and she would see through a lie. He picked up her bag, and they walked out of the house together.
During the subway ride to his house, he thought of a million things that he could say to her, but all of them seemed stupid in light of what had just happened. Who wanted to talk about how cute that kid on the subway with the toy helicopter is, or how weird it was that people just decided to pick an animal and have it live in their house at hardly any benefit to themselves? Nobody did. Least of all Maya.
But she looked so sad, like she just wanted to disappear. He put his hand over hers on the hard plastic seat. "You can talk to me about anything. You know that, right?"
She cupped her hand slightly, like she was trying to throw his off. She hadn't had a problem with it last night. But that was different, she told herself. She was crying. The hand-holding wasn't a thing that they did, and if it was, it was a friend thing.
"I know that," she said, her soft and raspy from disuse. "Thanks, Lucas, for everything."
How could he explain that she shouldn't thank him? That thanking him for taking care of her was as ridiculous as thanking him for taking care of himself? He couldn't really explain it, he supposed. It sounded ridiculous in his head, but it made perfect sense in his heart. "You're welcome. Anything you want, I'll do it."
"Except apparently leave me alone." She gave him a half-smile. It was so weak and yet it seemed like it was cracking her face.
"Except that," he said.