Collared(32)

I can guess why he doesn’t keep that tradition anymore though.

“Water, please,” I say.

“I picked up some of your favorite kind of soda.”

“Water’s good.” I haven’t had a soda in ten years. It would probably tear my stomach apart now.

“Why don’t you take a seat, Jade? Sam and Connor will be here any minute.”

I turn away from the window. The cameras are still firing. Not as much, but they’re still going off. “Where do you want me?”

“In your usual seat,” Mom says as she settles a glass bowl of mashed potatoes on the table.

I stare at the table. I can’t remember where my usual seat was. I know it was close to my dad, but was it to the right or the left of him?

Mom catches me staring and pulls out the chair to the right of my dad. “Here you go.”

I take a seat and wait. It’s so quiet in the house now. Without Connor’s alternative music blasting from his room and Sam and her friends giggling behind her bedroom door and Mom’s jazz streaming from the kitchen and Dad’s nightly news echoing from the living room, it’s silent.

Now that I’m home, my parents seem to have no idea what to say to me. I don’t exactly know what to say to them either.

“Look at this beauty,” Dad trumpets as he carries in a huge roast.

He sets it right in front of me, and I have to scoot my chair back from the smell. It’s almost offensive now. The pools of red-stained grease below the meat have me squirming in my seat.

Outside, the noise level rises right before the front door explodes open. Connor wanders into the living room first, looking a little shocked, but his face clears when he sees me.

“Hey, Jade.” He stuffs his hands in his pockets and takes a seat in what I guess is his usual seat. I can’t remember that either.

For a brief moment, I look around, wondering who Connor’s talking to. I catch myself right after. Me. I’m Jade. I spent ten years being called by a different name, but still—searching the room for a Jade when I was born with that name and was probably called it dozens of times every day for seventeen years?

I don’t need another confirmation that transitioning into normal life is impossible for someone like me. I’ve had enough of those already.

Dad claps Connor on the back and heads toward the front door. I hear hushed whispers that sound like Sam and Dad are arguing about something.

I’m sure that something has to do with me.

Dad comes back into the dining room first, his brows drawn in a hard line. Sam follows a minute later. She doesn’t look at me at first. Like yesterday at the hospital, she looks totally put-together, like nothing could touch the shine on her shoes or wrinkle the silk of her dress.

“Hi, Jade.” Her voice is stilted, but she finally looks at me. For a second.

I’ve changed into one of my old outfits Mom brought down for me earlier, but everything’s too big now. So she pulled out an outfit of hers and let me try that on. I feel strange wearing my mom’s khaki trousers and cashmere sweater, and I must look it by the way Connor’s staring at me.

Actually, it isn’t my clothes he’s staring at.

“What happened to your neck?” he asks, studying the fresh bandages.

I’m about to answer him when Mom comes in carrying the green beans. “Connor.” She shakes her head.

Just like that, he looks away and takes a drink of his water.

“It’s from a metal collar I wore. Sometimes it would dig into my skin and make me bleed. I bled a lot the day they came to get me.” I don’t realize everyone’s gaping at me until I look around the table. Well, Sam’s the only one gaping. Everyone else is just kind of wide-eyed.

“Who’s ready to eat?” Mom’s voice rings through the room, and everyone except me nods.

So I guess they’re happy to have me back, but they aren’t ready to hear what happened. Maybe they never will be.

Dad takes his station at the head of the table and cuts into the roast. The sawing noise the knife makes as it cuts into the meat makes my stomach convulse. The sight of the bright red meat makes me close my eyes.

I’ve never been so keenly aware that the chunk of meat I was about to eat came from a living, breathing animal. The blood pooling into Mom’s china serving plate is the same blood that kept that animal alive. I’m about to eat its flesh.

I know I’ll never eat meat again. I’ll never dine on the pieces of an innocent animal ever again.

When Dad puts the first slab on my plate, I shake my head.

“You love roast, Jade,” he says, the knife in his hand dripping red grease.

“No.” I keep shaking my head. “I don’t.”

Mom wets her lips across from me and looks at Dad. She doesn’t know what to do. I know she planned this meal for me. I know she wanted it to be special. I hate that I’m ruining it for her, but I can’t eat that. I can barely stand to sit in my seat with it staring at me.

For ten years, I’ve eaten food that came from a can or a bag: rice, beans, tuna, peas, green beans . . . I might have liked bloody meat in a different life, but not this one.

“Here, trade plates with me.” Connor leans across the table and grabs my plate before setting his empty one in front of me.

I send a small smile his way, and he shrugs back like it’s no big deal. Dad goes back to cutting the roast, and I distract myself by scooping a mound of potatoes and green beans onto my plate. I already know I won’t be able to eat much of it, but for Mom’s sake, I’ll try. My appetite has disappeared ever since I was rescued. I don’t know why, but it’s like I can’t stomach anything anymore.