The bedroom is a girl’s. Dora the Explorer with her massive head and eyes the size of pies hangs by a loop off the edge of a mirror. A pony with a cream-coloured saddle, blue diapers made out of sky, a ladle stolen from a cardboard box, a plastic house. A little grey space heater sits three feet from the side of her bed. An egg glowing in a goalie’s mask. She should have been asleep hours ago, but she is scared. Not of the dark, not of a monster, not about whether mommy and daddy can stay friends. No, what little Heather, with her funny pale face framed by red, red ringlets is scared of is Osama Ben Lawdy. His name keeps coming up, in whispered ways sometimes. In caves near Ravenna.
Heather hears her parents yelling below, then gunshots. She listens and hears nothing. The front door slams. It was Osama Ben Lawdy and now he’s gone.
Heather finally sleeps.