Angry as she was, Alice still offered to give me the mask for my allergies, but I told her I didn’t need it. I told her I felt pretty good after such a long walk. This brought a smile to her face. She had been worried about me.

The man brought home lunch. Cold sandwiches and a bag of potato chips. He said that after we ate he would take me back to town.

The power is still out. The phone still dead. The portable generator is running the boiler in the basement so we have heat and hot water. It also runs the stove. It has lasted all night and into this afternoon. Even without the gas. But maybe that’s not true. Maybe those cans were full.

Alice swings her legs as she eats. It makes her body bounce and her long hair swoosh from side to side. She wears a pink sweater with purple leggings that are too small. Bunny slippers hang from her swinging feet.

I try to eat. I feel the effects of the exhaustion and hunger and it is not productive. I hold the sandwich in my sore hand and bring it to my mouth. Chew. Swallow. But I am anxious to be done. I want to go to town and see for myself the things I’ve been told.

First, my car was not on the side of the road. He thinks it probably got towed somewhere. Everything is shut down and the police are too busy to check on it.

Second, he couldn’t find my purse. He said I must have left it on the side of the road. Or maybe in my car. But I know this is not right. I can still feel it clutched in my hand as I waved down his truck with both arms, over my head. The way I always do when I’m not thinking about it. It registers in my thoughts because Evan and Nicole find it embarrassing. I reason with myself that some people are not good at finding things, that maybe it is in the truck, under a seat, and that he just didn’t look hard enough.

Because, third, he called all the numbers I gave him but no one picked up. He left messages for them. John. Nicole. A few friends. He showed me his phone log—the numbers in black with the little arrow next to them. Then he showed me the voicemail box, which was empty.

I thought that this could not be true. But then I considered that perhaps it is true. Perhaps they didn’t recognize his number and did not pick up. We’ve been getting dozens of robocalls lately, and from all different numbers. Maybe there hasn’t been time for them to check their messages.

The man sits back in his chair, legs splayed wide, forearms on the table.