“Do you have time?”

“I have time,” he said. “I’ll pick you up at six.”

I smiled at his back as he left. We could go back. We’d done it before, we could do it again.

Troy’s car rumbled to a stop outside our house a little before three. He had dressed up. His hair was pushed out of his face. He wore a maroon long-sleeved shirt. Okay, he was still wearing jeans, but he was more dressed up than normal.

I saw him walk up the steps. I knew he was standing on the porch. But he didn’t ring the bell. I waited a few more seconds, but he still didn’t ring the bell. So I pulled the door open and found him turned around, one step off the front porch. “Where are you going?”

“I thought maybe I was too early.” It was 2:56.

“Come in. Dinner’s not ready yet, but there’s shrimp.”

We stood awkwardly around the cocktail sauce on the dining room table, dipping the shrimp and discarding the tails in a ceramic bowl. Mom came out with napkins.

“Oh, Troy! I didn’t hear you come in! What can I get for you? Apple cider? Soda? Oh, and I just whipped up some eggnog. Delaney says it’s gross, but she never liked it anyway.”

Troy frowned at Mom and looked back at the shrimp bowl. “Seriously,” I said. “It’s gross. Don’t let her bully you into trying it.”

Mom pretended to slap me on the back of the head. “Eggnog sounds perfect, actually,” he said.

Mom smiled and left to get his glass. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” I said. He smiled at me, but it was painful to watch. I didn’t ask if he was okay. Troy was not okay. He was with strangers on Christmas.

We ate ham and stuffing and banana bread and mashed potatoes and green beans. Troy said “please” and “thank you” and “please pass the salt” but not much else. My parents tried to engage him in conversation.

“Are you from around here, Troy?” Dad asked.

“No. I’m from San Diego, actually.”

“This weather must be a shock to your system then.”

“Delaney says you live with friends. Are they the reason you moved out here?” Mom asked. I could tell she was fishing for information on his living arrangements.

He grinned at me, sensing the lie. I felt myself blush, and he seamlessly continued. “I didn’t know them at first. They’re people I met at school.”

Mom considered this for a moment and seemed okay with it. “So what brought you out to our neck of the woods?”

“Well, after everything happened, I just wanted to get away. From the way everyone would look at me. This was about as far as I could go without a passport.” Mom looked at Troy in precisely the way he must’ve hated.

Dad cleared his throat. “Where do you work?”

“The assisted living facility in town. I’m studying for my nurse’s aide certification at night.”

“Good for you,” Dad said. “Takes a lot of drive to put yourself through school. Delaney’s mother did it herself, too.”

“Takes a special person to do a job like that,” Mom said, nodding. “How did you get into it?”

Troy moved the green beans around his plate. “I don’t like people suffering.”

Mom put her fork down. “Troy, you have this number, right? I want you to call me if you need anything. Anything at all. You understand?”

He looked up at her, his eyes an unreadable depth. “Yes, ma’am.”

“And no more of this ma’am thing. My name is Joanne. That’s what Delaney’s friends call me. Now, Ron, clean this up. The pies are just about ready, and the Martins will be here soon.” Ugh, the Martins. Dad’s secretary and her family. Chatty fourteen-year-old twins, little replicas of their mother wearing too much makeup.

Dad cleared the table and Troy stared at the white tablecloth. Then he abruptly pushed back his chair and paced the room. “Mrs. . . . Joanne? I’m sorry, but I have to leave. My roommates are running that potluck I told you about. I promised I’d stop by for dessert.”

“Okay,” she said slowly. “No problem. Merry Christmas.” And then she pulled him into her and wrapped her arms around him because no matter what I thought of my mother, sometimes she knew exactly the right thing to do, and this was one of those times.

Troy didn’t look at me when he left. Just picked up his jacket and rushed out the front door, letting in a gust of cold that shocked me to the core. I went to the front window and saw him sitting in the front seat, head back, watching his breaths form into undefined clouds as they escaped his mouth. I thought about all those people he helped when they were suffering. I grabbed my coat and boots.