It occurred to me that he was probably thinking he might never see me again,
which he probably thought every single morning of his entire weekday life as he left for work, which probably sucked.
Mom and I drove over to Augustus’s house, and when we got there,
she wanted me to stay in the car to rest, but I went to the door with her anyway.
As we approached the house, I could hear someone crying inside.
I didn’t think it was Gus at first, because it didn’t sound anything like the low rumble of his speaking,
but then I heard a voice that was definitely a twisted version of his say, “BECAUSE IT IS MY LIFE, MOM. IT BELONGS TO ME.”
And quickly my mom put her arm around my shoulders and spun me back toward the car, walking quickly,
and I was like, “Mom, what’s wrong?” And she said, “We can’t eavesdrop, Hazel.”
We got back into the car and I texted Augustus that we were outside whenever he was ready.
We stared at the house for a while. The weird thing about houses is that they almost always look like nothing is happening inside of them,
even though they contain most of our lives. I wondered if that was sort of the point of architecture.
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