"For later," she said.
"For later," he agreed.
Gloria looked at her son across the table and did not say anything, and did not have to.
After dinner, while his mother washed and Andre dried, Lulu sat on the counter swinging her heels and eating her later roll already. She chewed for a while, thinking. Then she said, "Daddy. Does Vanessa have food?"
The kitchen went quiet except for the water running. Theo, at the table with his homework, lifted his head.
Andre set down the plate he was drying. He thought about the courtroom, the short hair, My stepson told the truth. He thought about the envelope on the top shelf of his closet, waiting to be for later or for never.
"Yes," he said. "I think she does."
Lulu nodded, satisfied, and went back to her roll. "Good," she said. "Being hungry is bad."
Andre looked at Theo. Theo looked back at him, eight and a half now, a whole half year older than the boy on the bottom stair, and for a moment neither of them said anything. Then Theo bent over his homework again, and Andre picked up the next plate.
That night, after the kids were in bed and Gloria had gone home, Andre stood in the doorway of their room. Lulu was asleep sideways with Mr. Biscuit under her arm and a roll, he was almost sure, somewhere under her pillow. Theo was in his bed. Not in the hall. In his bed, one arm flung over his face, breathing slow.
On his nightstand lay the blue notebook, open. Andre knew he shouldn't. He looked anyway, one last time, he promised himself.
APR 11. Sunday. Mama Glo came. Everybody ate. L took 2 rolls. Dad said it was okay.
And then, beneath it, in pencil, a little lighter, as if Theo had not been sure he was allowed to write it:
I forgot to write yesterday. Nothing bad happened.
Andre closed the notebook. He turned off the hall light. He checked the lock on the front door once, and then — because it was his job now, and only his — he checked it again.