Calming Talia.

I tried to move, but despite the words I was saying, my feet felt like lead wrapped in cotton. Even my voice sounded distant. There I was laden with groceries, next to one of our equally burdened best friends who looked like she was going to fall over if gently nudged, and my half-invalid wife. Somehow the sight of Talia so emotionally distraught triggered some panic signal in me.

Thankfully, the brief outburst Talia and Rachel exchanged had caught the attention of a retail assistant, and the sight of the three of us was enough for her to realize we needed help. Somehow we bundled our purchases and the girls through checkout and into the car, and soon I was fighting trembling hands on the steering wheel as I sped home. Behind me Amy had Talia's head resting on her shoulder, a grim scowl on my wife's face. Despite her matting hair masking her expression it was obvious that Talia was sobbing.

"Get her settled," Amy insisted after I parked the car. "I'll move the stuff."

I bit back any instinctive protest I might have had, and pulled Talia out of the car, gently escorting her to our living room. Not a word was exchanged between us, not even after I filled a cup of water for her. All I did was watch as Talia sat stiffly, taking the occasional sip and waiting out series of reflexive shudders.

It wasn't until I heard the thump of bags hitting the floor that I realized Amy had rejoined us, having ferried as many goods as she could support on her lap. She simply folded her arms, giving me a meaningful nod, as we waited for our friend to start.