If I could just get to the genetic core of myself, I could solve all my problems-and fix them. I could fix my father’s, too, and my mother’s, and Steven’s. I could glue things back together, build things back from nothing, stitch in the right piece of DNA and remove the wrong one. It was all there before our eyes, both too small and too big to understand.
Philip waited, pumping his foot up and down. Yes, I have a hard time admitting it, I wished I could say out loud. Because doing so would mean I want something, I need something. When Claire told me at the pool to not let things bother me so much, to let go, I thought it could be possible. But despite what I knew, it still felt like something I couldn’t do.
The early morning light began to drip into the apartment, first gray, then pink, then orange. I lowered my eyes, hardened. ‘I think I need some room right now, okay?’ My voice wasn’t particularly friendly.
He blinked. A car outside had its hazard lights on, making the room strobe light and then dark. ‘Okay. Fine.’
He stood up, then, and pulled on his jeans. He put his shoes on slowly, tying them in a neat, double-loop bow. ‘Where are you going?’ I asked.
‘Well, I have the car. I can drive home.’
I breathed in, knowing that this was the moment when I should tell him that he was being silly, and that he shouldn’t go. Philip paused a moment, looking at me, maybe waiting for me to say it, too. His face was lit up by the moon. There was either a mole or a pimple on his smooth, right cheek. We both silently counted to three. I just let it go by.
He looked past me, then, and pointed to the window. ‘You should close that.’
I turned around. The window was slightly ajar-no wonder it had been freezing in here. When I hefted it closed and turned back around, Philip was gone.
‘Where’s Philip?’ Rosemary asked, coming into the apartment with a bag of groceries.
‘He…he went back to Annapolis,’ I said. It was the following morning, and I was still stunned Philip had left. I thought he might come back in the middle of the night, curling into me and apologetic. Had he really driven the whole way back home? What would he do the rest of the weekend?
Rosemary looked startled at my answer. She searched my face, trying to gauge a reaction. ‘He was worried about the blizzard,’ I said quickly, before she could ask.
‘Oh, the blizzard.’ Rosemary walked down the hall and plopped the grocery bag on the new island. Inside were pretzels, bottled iced tea, and apples. It made me ache a little, seeing Rosemary navigate so easily around the apartment. She plucked an apple from the plastic produce bag, wiped it on her shirt, and took a bite. ‘Do you really think we’ll get that blizzard?’ she asked, apple juice dribbling down her chin.
‘Well, yeah,’ I said. I tried to soften the remark with a little laugh at the end, but I wasn’t sure if it worked. We both heard my father fumbling at the door. He burst in, wearing a long, black wool coat and a bright red scarf. He looks good, I thought. Really good. His eyes were bright, his hands steady.
‘It’s freezing out there,’ he said.
‘So what are you guys doing here, anyway?’ I asked.
‘We need to go through the boxes. Goodwill is picking up the donations today. But maybe there are some other things in the “For Vermont” boxes that can go there as well. And we should move them to the sides of the room, just to give us more space. It’s like a maze in here.’
‘Why do you need more space?’ I asked. ‘Is someone coming?’
My father ignored this, bustling to the first open box. ‘Well, the realtor is coming,’ Rosemary answered for him. ‘She said she’d be by Monday.’
‘Yes,’ my father said absentmindedly. He glanced at me. ‘Have you and Philip rented a van to move your things out of here?’
‘Philip went back to Annapolis,’ I said flatly.
My father widened his eyes. ‘Did he take your things with him, or…?’
‘No.’
‘So…then…how are you going to get your things out of here?’
‘I haven’t thought that far ahead,’ I said.
‘Well, maybe you should.’
‘Richard…’ Rosemary said quietly. ‘I can help, if you want. We can find some movers.’
I couldn’t move. I wasn’t even sure where I’d send my things to-Philip’s? Had that been merely a fight last night, or something much bigger?
‘There aren’t going to be any movers available. It’s a weekend.’ My father slapped his thighs and stared up at the ceiling.
‘Movers work on weekends,’ I reminded him. ‘They work all the time.’
‘And there’s going to be a blizzard,’ my father said dourly.
‘Then why are we even having this open house?’ Rosemary said. ‘If it’s going to snow three feet, why bother?’
My father lowered his arms. ‘Now you’re saying this? Now you believe in the blizzard? You’ve been telling me this whole time it’s not going to snow!’
‘What? I can’t control the weather!’
‘Why couldn’t you have mentioned this, I don’t know, when there was still time to back out?’