“Yes,” Meredith says. “And I think that’s why you have remained so important to our mother….You’re a connection to him….” Her voice cracks, so I finish where she left off.
“I guess we just want to know if you really and truly loved him?” I say, giving her one last chance. “That it wasn’t just some passing romance?”
Sophie shivers, pulling her cashmere wrap more tightly around her shoulders, taking her time answering. “Yes, I did love him….It’s just hard….It’s hard for me to really remember that time….So much life has happened since….”
“Yes. For everyone but Daniel,” I say, wanting to shame her.
It seems to work as she nods and adjusts her wrap again. Deep down, I know I’m not being fair. It’s not Sophie’s fault that Daniel died and she lived. I can also tell that she is trying her best. It just so happens that her best sort of sucks. So I attempt one last angle. “Was your ex-husband much like Daniel?” I ask.
It feels like a softball, given that the marriage ended. An easy way for her to tell us how much better Daniel was.
“In some ways,” she says. “But not really.”
“Is he American? A doctor?” Meredith asks.
“Yes. And yes,” Sophie says. “But he’s not a surgeon like Daniel wanted to be.”
“What is he?”
“A dermatologist,” she says. “And the stereotypes of those specialties really fit. He’s much less intense than Daniel was…more outgoing….Daniel was smarter….”
I nod, thinking, Damn right he was.
She shrugs, then finishes. “I don’t know….They’re very different people.”
“Was he jealous of Daniel?” I ask, instantly realizing how ridiculous the question sounds. “I mean, of your relationship?”
“No. Todd’s not wired like that. He doesn’t really get jealous….He’s not the sensitive type. Hence…our divorce, perhaps.” She laughs nervously. “My boyfriend before Todd was more jealous, I think….”
“Of how much you loved Daniel?”
“Yes,” she says.
Finally, I think, a satisfying answer.
“Are you dating anyone now?” Meredith asks.
I take a final bite of my filet, only mildly curious about Sophie’s answer, and for some reason fully expecting it to be no. But when I look up, I watch her face come to life, even more so than when we asked about Calvin. She tells us yes, there is someone.
“Is he a doctor, too?” Meredith says.
“She,” Sophie says. “And no, she’s a writer.”
She goes on to eagerly explain how they met—at some yoga retreat in Arizona—but I mostly tune her out, exchanging a glance with Meredith. It is a fleeting one, but I am now positive we feel the same. That we’re totally over this evening and Sophie, and especially her love for someone who isn’t our brother, whether a man or a woman.
Sure enough, during the next pause in the conversation, Meredith cranes her neck to signal the waitress for our bill, then presses her palm to her lips in what I can tell is a completely fake yawn.
“Oh, listen to me,” Sophie says, still smiling. “I’m so sorry for prattling on like this.”
“It’s fine,” Meredith says. “We’re really happy for you. Right, Josie?”
“Yes. Of course,” I say. “Very happy for you.”
“But it is getting late…and Josie has an early flight,” Mere lies.
“Yes. A very early flight,” I say, locking eyes with my sister, unable to think of a single time I have loved her more.
chapter twenty-eight
MEREDITH
“Well. I didn’t see that one coming,” I say after a virtually silent cab ride home. I carefully remove my shoes and hang up my coat as I make the decision not to mention Josie’s boots. Hell, she can sleep in them tonight, for all I care at the moment.
“Yeah. Me either…I mean, I knew she had moved on…but damn….” Looking glum, Josie strides over to the sofa and collapses onto it. “It was like he meant nothing to her.”
“That’s not necessarily true,” I say as I wash my hands at the kitchen sink. “We don’t know that she didn’t love him deeply….She could have been as committed as he was at the time….”
“Okay…but did you get that feeling?” Josie asks. “Because I didn’t. I mean—she didn’t even mention his name until we got to the restaurant….It just felt like she moved on, like, a couple months later.”
“Yeah. But she just gave us the CliffsNotes version of her life….She did say that one ex was jealous of Daniel….I mean, she could have been heartbroken for years.”
“Well, it would have been nice to hear that,” Josie says.
I nod again, silently noting that irony—that it would have been nice to hear a lot of things from my own sister over the years, too. It would have been nice to discuss our feelings. Or visit the cemetery together. Or acknowledge Daniel’s birthdays—and all the painful anniversaries of his death.