“Oh, I love fancy.” Susie takes two linzers and carries one to Dane. Her nails are long and glittery.

They chew for a minute, and I look at my hands because it’s always weird to watch people eat when you’re not eating yourself.

“Mighty fine, young lady. Mighty fine,” Dane says, but he sets his down after one bite, and after a minute so does Susie.

“What a treat,” she says, and walks back over to us. “Now, you need any help with anything, you let me know.”

I nod.

As Coralee leads me down the hallway to her room, I spy three cockatoos landing on the edge of the coffee table. They start pecking at the tin. At least somebody likes my cookies.

Later, Coralee and I are watching a scary movie that she has on tape, like actual tape, VHS. She says both the video and the TV were her mama’s. The television is the size of a microwave, but at least she gets to have one in her room. Mom has screen-time limits.

The movie’s called The People Under the Stairs, and it makes me wonder why people like scary movies in the first place. I mean, why would anybody choose to be creeped out? Halfway through, Coralee leans over from where she’s stretching her legs on the floor and hits pause. I see her face and know what’s coming.

“So, can I ask?”

“Ask what?”

“What happened?”

The million-dollar question.

She points at my chair, and even though the smoke smell isn’t as bad back here, all of a sudden my eyes start to itch and I just want to go home.

“Nothing happened. At least, not like you think. I didn’t get hit by a bus or anything.”

Coralee just switches legs and says, “Uh-huh,” so I keep talking.

“I have cerebral palsy. Something happened before I was born, or right around then, and the doctors don’t know what. But whatever ‘it’ ”—I make quote signs with my fingers—“was, it made it so it’s hard for me to move.”

“Huh.”

Coralee doesn’t seem weirded out by this at all. Which is weird.

“I can walk a little. But I have to use a gait trainer—it’s kind of like Dane’s walker but a thousand times bigger.” I pat the chair. “This is easier.”

“All right, then,” she says. “Your turn.”

“My turn what?”

“Now you ask me something.”

I think for a minute.

“Okay. What’s with the cockatoos?”

Coralee sits up now and crosses her legs. Crisscross applesauce, I think. That’s something the physical therapist used to make me practice.

“Oh, them. Dane likes them, and Susie likes Dane, so she lets him keep them around. But they crap on the furniture and it drives her nuts.”

I laugh into my sweatshirt and then make a mental note to keep them away from my chair.