Re: [Above Webster's, in Daniel's place: Hannah & Daniel, + Si.]
Si had just turned thirty and he was a recovering heroin addict. 'Mid-life healthy male' wasn't quite right, but, for Daniel's purposes, maybe it was close enough. His heart was pounding and sweat dampened his hairline, the nape of his neck. That was fear, more than it was anything else. Si's anxiety had spiked—understandably—at the start of all of this, and again, when he'd gotten to the music store. The only reason he hadn't started counting or doing anything like that was because his focus remained nailed, and desperately, to his sister.—Was Si thinking about Amy having sex with some guy for money? Sort of. But, it was more abstract and nameless than that. It was a fear of (re-)loss, and a fear of someone hurting her, of blackness taking her, a fear of dangerous men exerting their control.
But, he knew the look in Amy's eyes. He'd seen in thousands of times before. In her eyes and in Mom's, even in his own. And he wanted to get her out of this place, whatever had happened. None of it mattered much to Si. 'I just went dark,' she said, and Si shook his head. She was pulling him toward her chair. "Ames," he protested, "we should go home." He looked at Daniel. "I don't want anything." The man, who seemed as out of place as his sister, was busy staring at a cupboard full of dishes. Si felt his impatience rise. It was like being caught in the cross-talk of people whose language you didn't understand and who didn't understand your language. Si could pick Amy up and carry her out. He thought about it. "C'mon, Ames."