“Yeah. And the funny voice—it helps me with something.”

“You sound normal now.”

“Hey. Who you calling normal?”

Tina giggles. “You sound unique. You sound like Tyrell.”

I smile. “Well, okay, then.”

Quiet. I wait. Usually at this point she tells me about some thing or other that went on at school.

“Are you doing okay?” I ask her.

“I don’t know what that means,” she says.

Sometimes I don’t know whether she misunderstood me or whether she’s being insanely deep.

“Are you feeling sad right now? How are you feeling?”

“I have feelings cards,” she says. “The sad card is always frowning.”

“Are you frowning?”

“No. I am sad but I am not frowning.”

“Frown is a funny word. Frowwwwwwwn.” I draw out the ow sound until my breath runs out.

Tina giggles. “Frowwwwwwwn.”

This kid. I wish I could do more for her. I wish there was some way to drop back in time and save her brother. I want that for myself all the time. I want it for her even more, somehow.

“There is another card for how I feel,” she says.

“Which card is that?”

“The scared card,” she says. “It has very big eyes and frowning eyebrows.”

“Frowwwwwwwwwning eyebrows, huh?”

Tina giggles. “When are you coming home?” she says. “I watch out the window for you.”

Oh, my heart. “You don’t have to do that, Tina. I will tell you when I’m coming.”

“When?”

“Tomorrow.” It slips out, like a swear word. Like a tear gliding down my cheek.

“Tomorrow?” she repeats. “One sleep?”

My fingers press into my temple. “One sleep,” I assure her. Goddammit.

The door creaks and Robb pokes his head back in. I toss him a thumbs-up. He returns to his desk and spreads out again. I’d have liked him to give me a little longer, but a shared space is a shared space.

“So, tomorrow I can watch out the window?”

“If you want to,” I told her. “But you don’t have to.”

“I want to.” She’s bouncing in place. Her voice bobs with the rhythm.

“I love you, too.”

I hang up. Squeeze the corner of the desk to keep from punching the wall. Keep my back to Robb until I can’t anymore.

“I don’t get you,” Robb says. “If I had a girl waiting, I’d be trying to get home every weekend.”

“You don’t understand the situation.” That might be the truest thing I’ve ever said to him.

“She gonna be at the protest?”

“Maybe.”

“Gimme her number. We can meet up with her.” He slides a glance my way. “Still saving you a spot in the car tomorrow.”

I hate that he’s gonna win this one. Or think he did.

It can’t be helped. I’ve made promises.

I sigh. “Okay, dog. I call shotgun.”