Free The Newman Resident by Charles Swift

what they give us.”
    “I imagine this is better than what you had to eat at the school, isn’t it?”
    “The school?”
    “Yes, Newman.”
    “No,” Christopher said, “the food back home is actually very good.”
    “Oh.” Richard took a drink and went back to rearranging his food on the plate. “So, they have pretty good food at the school?
    “Yes.”
    Richard smiled, but then quit when he couldn’t figure out what to say next. Chinese? he thought. What a stupid choice to get for a little boy. Hamburgers, tacos—anything would’ve been better. He looked up at his son, but he didn’t look back. Then he looked at his wife, but she was looking down as well. She hadn’t said a word when they were setting the table.
    After dinner, Christopher went to the room while Richard and Carol cleaned up. When they were done, they found him sitting on the bed. He wasn’t looking at the picture or reading or getting undressed. Just sitting.
    “What are you doing?” Richard asked.
    “Thinking.”
    “Oh.” Richard looked at his wife, but she kept her eyes on their son. “Well, I guess it’s time for you to go to sleep,” he said. “It is, isn’t it? I don’t want to make you go to bed too early.”
    “No, it’s time for me to go to sleep.”
    Richard could feel the time pouring over him in some sort of molasses way. “It’s good to have you here,” he said, trying to leave the room. “Good night. Let us know if you need anything.”
    “Thank you.”
    “Good night,” Carol finally spoke.
    “Good night, Carol.”
    “Sleep tight,” Richard said as he was closing the door.
    “What do you mean?”
    “What?”
    “What does ‘sleep tight’ mean?”
    “I don’t know. It’s just something my folks used to say to me every night. Haven’t I said it to you during your visits?”
    “No.”
    “I’m sure I have.”
    “No. If you had, I would’ve asked you about it before. What does it mean?”
    “It means to enjoy your sleep,” Richard said as he closed the door, hoping to escape any other explanation.
    “Thank you. I’ll do my best.”
    After he closed the door, Richard turned to speak to his wife, but she was already at her office door down the hall. He walked towards her.
    “It’s always a little awkward the first night,” Richard said. “It’ll get better soon.”
    “No, this is different. Before, he knew he’d be back home soon. He doesn’t know what’s happening this time. He’s scared.”
    “You’re making too big a deal—”
    “I’ve got some catching up to do,” she said as she closed her door.
    “So do I,” Richard said.
    He walked back to Christopher’s door, putting his ear up to it. He thought he could hear crying and put his hand to the doorknob, but the sound stopped.
    “Christopher, are you okay?” Richard asked.
    “Richard, I’m asleep.”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN
    “I ’ll be home late tonight,” Carol said from the front door. “Don’t wait up.”
    Richard sat back down at the kitchen table. Christopher stood next to the stove like he was guarding it from thieves, his left hand twitching. Richard wanted to run over to his son and hug him and talk to him and listen to him. He wanted to grab that hand and hold it so tight it couldn’t twitch, or so tight the twitch would leave his son’s body and enter his. But he didn’t want to do the wrong thing, so he just stayed in his chair.
    “Christopher.”
    The boy didn’t move.
    “Christopher. It was an accident. You didn’t mean to spill the milk on her.”
    Christopher turned, his eyes so blank, so empty—it was like the boy wasn’t even in the room. Worse, it was like he wasn’t anywhere else, either. He was nowhere.
    “Christopher, let’s finish breakfast.”
    “No, thank you. I’m not hungry.”
    “You didn’t eat much for dinner last night.”
    “I apologize for not eating enough—”
    “No, don’t say that. I was just saying you must be hungry.”
    “I’m sorry for saying ‘I