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Her father hesitated for a moment, then he said, "Car accident."
"Ouch."
"Yeah. Ouch."
Her father also had a scar on his forehead and cheek. So the accident had taken his right arm, and left him with scars. None of it was pleasant, but it could have been a whole lot worse. Then again, it was worse, because they had also lost a daughter.
Allie longed to tell them that they hadn't lost her at all-- that she was right here in front of them, but she couldn't find a way to do that as the cat woman, and she couldn't as Danny Rozelli, either.
"Do you know your phone number, at least?" her mother asked. "We really should let someone know you're here-- your parents must be worried sick."
Allie didn't have much sympathy for parents who would eventually get their child back. She didn't know the number anyway, and that was fine. She was finally here with her own parents, and they were treating her with love and kindness. This was the closest thing she might ever have to true family time with them.
"I'm hungry," she said. "Can I have something to eat?"
Her parents glanced to each other, her mother threw her gaze to the phone, her father nodded and he left the room. It didn't take a genius to figure out that he was going to call the police from another room. Allie thought of throwing another hissy fit, but realized she couldn't stall the inevitable much longer. She would make the best of the time she had.
"Can I have Apple Jacks?" she asked. "Apple Jacks in strawberry milk?"
She could have sworn her mother turned a previously unknown shade of pale.
"Never mind," said Allie. "You probably don't have that."
"Actually," said her mother, "we do."
Her father rejoined them in the kitchen, giving a secret nod to his wife. He must have made the call. Allie figured they had about five minutes before the police arrived.
Allie savored every spoonful of her cereal while her parents sat with her at the kitchen table. She tried to trick herself into believing this was just a regular family breakfast.
"Sorry if they're a little stale," her mother said.
"No," said Allie, "they're fine."
"Our daughter liked Apple Jacks," her father said. "She liked them with strawberry milk, too."
"A lot of kids do," Allie told him--although she didn't know anyone else who ate them that way. She dipped the spoon into the pink milk and let the last applejack float in like a lone life preserver.
"More, please."
Her mother poured a second bowl. Allie pushed down the orange cereal circles with the back of her spoon, coating them with milk.
"I guess that was your daughter's room I was in, huh?"
Her mother nodded, but didn't meet her eyes.
"Something happened to her, didn't it?"
"Yes, Danny, something did," her father answered.
"You don't have to talk about it," Allie said, realizing this was going too far.
"No, that's okay--it was a long time ago," he said.
Not that long, Allie wanted to say, but instead she said, "I'll bet she loved you very much."
She should have left it there, but she could see a police cruiser pulling up to the curb outside, and then a second one. If she was going to do this, she had to do it now.
"Sometimes people go away," Allie told them. "They don't mean to, but they can't help it. It's nobody's fault. I'll bet if she could, she'd want to tell you that it's okay--that she's okay. I mean, people die, but that doesn't always mean they're gone."
