"Full," Maya groans.

"I'm up for seconds," Todd volunteers.

"Let's go!"

Seeing him happy eases some of my inner angst. We both need a break from the shadow that's always following us. I vow to give him a few days and then to caution him about building too many connections here.

We spend the rest of the afternoon at the community center. I can't quite bring myself to participate in any activities, but I watch Todd venture out of his cocoon to play video games with other kids his age and participate in an hour long present wrapping event for toys that are then donated to charity.

We leave around seven and return home. Todd is happy and humming all the way back to the apartment, despite the near freezing temperatures that are driving me crazy. Everyone left the center with a gift bag and boxed meal. I deposit both our meals in the fridge and plop down on the couch.

It was a good day, the first in a very long time. My only regret: not having the backbone to talk to Petr again. In the four hours I was there, I had the time and opportunity to find him, but I chose not to.

Todd goes to his room as usual. I can hear him laugh and peek in to see him on his belly on his bed, texting furiously, probably with his girlfriend. I envy him, and the urgency to have the talk we need to have is almost snuffed out by seeing him happy.

For now, he can enjoy a little bit of peace. He deserves it.

Pushing away from his bedroom door, I go to mine and frown. It sounds silly, but I can almost feel the gun in my room. It's like an ugly, cold snow cloud that freezes out my warm happiness. I hate it and hate more what it stands for - a physical reminder of the impact of what I've done to Todd. I've dragged him into a nightmare where he fears for his life. He's turning from a child into an adult and beginning to view the world differently. He's starting to take matters into his own hands in order to try to mend a reality that's broken and one he's sick of.

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This terrifies me. Independence of thought is part of the maturing process, but here, now, with our situation, it's also dangerous. I don't know how to handle it or what to do about the gun hidden under my mattress.

Petr might. Clearly not a stranger to weapons or teens, I want to banish the idea of asking his opinion, especially after today. He called me beautiful and then disappeared. I don't quite know what that means or why, despite this, he still seems like the kind of guy I want to trust.




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