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It's strange that the TV is still here, as well as her laptop that's still sitting on her coffee table.
Maybe they'd been in a hurry, or had heard someone coming. The TV might've been too big to carry, but her MacBook would've sold for a few hundred dollars alone.
The living room looks infinitely better after even just a few minutes of picking up. I'm glad. The experience of being broken into is bad enough without the constant reminder that someone uninvited had come in here.
"Oh. Hi," Kiara says a minute later, stepping out of the bedroom with a small suitcase and two garment bags slung over her arm. "I didn't know that you'd come up. I thought you were going to wait in the car."
She seems... off.
"Are you okay? I wouldn’t have left you up her on your own. I was just parking the car."
She nods but doesn’t really seem connected to the movement.
"Have you got everything you need?"
"Er, yeah. Except for the potted plant. Do you mind grabbing it please"
"Oh yeah, of course.” I step toward her bedroom. “You're going to have to water it though, I'm not good with plants. I have pink thumbs, or whatever it’s called."
Her lips thin into what I think she imagines is a smile. But it doesn’t reach her eyes.
I don't push, though; this isn't the place or time to be interrogating her. The potted plant is heavier than I expect and I try to make her laugh again, by making a big show of trying to pick it up. After a few seconds it’s clear that it doesn’t really have the effect that I want and she just says, "Please be careful."
Right. "Ready?"
She blinks and looks around her apartment. I'm sad for her that this isn't a place she feels safe in anymore, because it's a nice little apartment, small but cozy. She's obviously taken the time to make this a place she wants to come home to.
She frowns at the bookshelf. "What did you do?"
"I just picked up some of the furniture and stuff that was knocked over from the shelf."
She nods. "Oh. Okay. Thank you."
Then, without saying another word she wanders out the door, not looking back. I follow, closing the door behind me, making sure it latches before going to stand as she waits for the elevator.
"Are you okay?" I ask already knowing what she’s going to answer.
"Yes."
It's a short, sharp, definitive answer, a galaxy away from her mood just a little while ago. But it’s a clear signal that she's not going to be answering any more questions.
In the elevator I take the bag from her.
She doesn't meet my eyes the whole time, not even when we pack her things in the car and then make our way back to my apartment.
We don't speak much on the drive. And about a mile from the turn back to my apartment, she reaches over and slides her hand into mine.
A quick glance over shows a pale white Kiara, biting her bottom lip raw.
"Hey.” I squeeze her hand, trying to reassure her. "Is this about being back at the apartment?"
"I don't want to talk about it. Please don't make me talk about it." She pulls her hand back.
"Okay, well, we don't have to go back. If you need anything else I can take you to the mall and we'll do a recreation of Julia Roberts’s shopping spree in Pretty Woman. ‘Big mistake!’” I quote the famous line from the movie.
"I've never seen Pretty Woman," she says, distractedly, wringing her hands.
"What? What kind of heathen are you?"
