““Hello, said Loo. What's wrong? Hawley asked. You're not outside. Not tonight. But you're *always* outside. Hawley did not know how to answer. All this time he had been watching her window, it had never occurred to him that she was watching for him, too. He could hear Loo's breath, heavy and expectant, blowing hard into the mouthpiece, and for a moment all he could think of was the sound of the whale's spout--the blast of air and water as the giant rose to the surface, the salted spray that had rained down upon him in Puget Sound and filled him with terror and longing and a sense that he could right the path he was on. He had not realized that he'd been waiting for this sound until he heard it. He knew only that he had been waiting--for something that had never arrived, that had failed him, that had made him rage and murder int he silence it had left. But now here it was again. His daughter, still breathing. And so was he. I'll come now. Right now? Yes, said Hawley. Put your coat on. And get your toothbrush. Your real toothbrush. Hawley wrapped the phone cord around his arm, tighter and tighter, waiting to hear what she would say. Instead he heard the sound of footsteps. A door open and close. Then a clattering as the phone dropped to the ground. Hawley called Loo's name. He pressed his ear tightly against the receiver, straining to listen. Something dragged across the floor. Shuffling. Thumps. A noise like Velcro being ripped apart. And then she came back to him. I've got my shoes on, Loo said. I've got the candy, too.””
