Then she paused. There was a funny look on her face, as she stared out the window, and for a second, I thought she was going to actually tell me the stories. Whatever they were. But then she stood and stretched instead.

“Hey,” she said. “It seems like the rain is pretty much over. So maybe I should go home before it starts up again. I can just take my nightshirt damp, and let it hang to dry. Cool?”

It wasn’t at all. It was the furthest thing from cool. In that moment I wanted to push Jasper back down on the sofa, trap her with the red blanket. I wanted to say that it was fine she had opened the door to Sam’s room. I wanted her to know that she didn’t have to tell me her stories if she didn’t want to. That she could have her secrets, whatever they were. I wanted her to know that it was enough just to sit together and watch movies. I wanted her to stay with me. I didn’t want to be alone again.

Instead I nodded. “Cool.”

So Jasper ran to grab her nightshirt, and the rest of her laundry, from the office. Then she left, walked out the front door, and down the porch steps. I stood in the doorway and watched her go. Thinking that I hadn’t even gotten her number. Why hadn’t I gotten her number? But somehow, I couldn’t bring myself to call out to her now. It felt wrong, to ask for more.

When Jasper reached the street, she turned back and gave a friendly nod. “Bye, Leah,” she called. “And thanks. For everything!”

“Anytime!” I shouted back in the most normal, casual tone I could muster.

But I meant it. Truly. I meant anytime. I meant any time at all, do not hesitate. I meant please come back soon and sit with me and talk to me, like I’m still a normal person. I hoped she knew that, as she turned around and walked away down the street. I watched her fuzzy red hair until she turned onto Hemlock and disappeared from view. Then I stood a little longer, staring at the empty street, at the spot where Jasper had been.

Until suddenly, at my feet, Mr. Face appeared. He popped out of the overgrown azaleas that choked the porch and trotted over to me with a limp mouse hanging from his teeth. He carried the mouse lightly, gently, and when he reached me, he laid the mouse down on the mat at my feet and gave a mew. As if to say, I know you were talking about me. See, I’m not useless.

“Thanks,” I said to Mr. Face, examining his gift. “Thanks a lot.”