One

11:03.  Only the sounds of her father’s inconsistent breathing in the family room downstairs.  Wait a few more minutes.  Stirring in the next room.  Silence.  11:15.  She’s going out the window.

This was a better idea in theory.  It isn’t a death drop—but it would hurt like hell.  Muscles tighten as she slips her legs out the window and eases her body awkwardly to the awaiting shingles.  She can’t hear him below the porch roof, but knows he’s there.  He’s always there.  He will see her and coax her to jump into his grasp despite her terrified look and reluctance.  She jumps.  He catches.  

Always.

It wasn’t graceful.  She elbowed him in the eye socket as she plummeted towards him.  Grin and bear it.     She doesn’t need to know.  

“Just catch her,” he tells himself over and over again in his head.  He does.  Worth it.  Pain subsides as he feels her relax up against him.  Definitely worth it.  

“Breathe, Kid,” she says.  Flustered, he immediately lowers her to the ground.  

Awkward.  Shit.

Here they are again.  Say something.  

“You’re late.”

“And this is unusual?”

“I was starting to think that the sleeping bear downstairs was going to block your path for the night.”

“I forged a new one,” she boasts, jumping up onto the brick wall leading to the hill of her backyard.  “Walk straight back to the trees so the window light doesn’t catch us.  If he wakes up and sees us…”

“You’re paranoid.” 

“I’m cautious.  Where are we going tonight?”

“What fun would that be if we planned these outings?” 

He pushes ahead of her playfully up the hill.  She could catch him if she tried.  He could disappear far into the darkness if he tried.  Always the same.