Her hands ball up and press to her stomach and she doubles over like she’s in pain. I take a few tentative steps in her direction, but she holds up a hand, sniffling. “I’m all right,” she says, but her voice is shaky at best.
I go to the fridge and get a jug of tea someone made up and left. I can’t find any cups so I grab a mason jar from the dish drainer and fill it to the brim with ice and tea, then hand it to her. She accepts the cup with two hands and brings it to her lips for a long gulp.
“She told me to tell you that if you wanted to sell it, that she wouldn’t mind.” Sofie takes that like a blow, staggering back against the kitchen table. “But she said if you wanted to keep it for you and your brothers, there will be enough money from her life insurance to fix it up again.”
Sofie holds up a hand. “Stop.” Her voice is faint and it cracks midway through the word.
She staggers out of the kitchen and down the back hall to the back door. I follow silently behind as she throws open the door and damn near falls out of the house onto the porch. She manages to make it to the steps where she buckles on the top step and leans against the railing.
Not wanting to push her, knowing the pressure will only make her draw away even more, I keep silent. We sit there for a while in a companionable silence, the sounds of the people in the front yard filtering back on the warm afternoon air. The rain stopped as soon as the funeral ended, which I thought fitting. Sofie’s mom was all about the sunshine and I know she would have wanted it to shine here for her kids and loved ones.
After a while, Sofie gets to her feet. “I’d like my things, please.”
I nod and retrieve them from her room on the lower floor. I didn’t look. I didn’t want to know her secrets unless she was ready to tell me, wanting to be worthy of them in some twisted way.
“I’m going home now. To think. I’ll call you when I know where we go from here,” she says. The color is finally back in her cheeks along with the steel in her spine.
“Fair enough,” I say. “We’ll be here.”
She nods and without saying anything else, turns and goes back into the house. I watch her go until she disappears around the corner.
I could fight, could force her to stay and face her responsibilities, but I won’t.
I’ve been waiting ten years for her to come back and I know what it is to be patient.
I can be patient a few days longer.
Past
My heart tumbles into a hundred pieces at my feet. I reach out and snatch the letter from Jack’s slack hands. “It’s nothing.”
Jack takes my arm and pulls me down the hall away from Damian and around a corner. “When were you going to tell me?” he demands, shoving the paper in my hands.
I pull away, rubbing my arm. “I didn’t know how to. You just got here.”
His face tightens and he turns away, shoving a hand through his hair.
“I just applied as a joke. I never thought I’d actually get in.”
“Do you think I’m stupid?” he asks, his voice low.
“No, of course not. I—”
“I mean did you think I didn’t know about Tulane? There’s all kinds of shit in your room: flyers, applications, catalogs. Last year, when we were talking about what we wanted in the future, it was all you could talk about.”
“You don’t even know if I got in.”
He rolls his eyes. “You’re kidding right? Of course you got in. I bet you even got some kind of scholarship, didn’t you?” His voice is teasing, light, but I’m too afraid to trust the shift in his mood. Choosing between going to the school of my dreams and being with the man who owns my heart has been making me crazy.
“Yeah,” I say, looking at my feet.
A finger lifts my chin. “I’m not mad.”
“You’re not?”
“How could I be mad about something like this? It’s a good thing.”
“I don’t know how you can see being away from each other for four years as a good thing.”
“We both knew when I joined up we’d be apart for a while. Neither of us are ready to pull the marriage card and school is important.”
“I could still go to a school near you.”
He shakes his head. “Not a chance. We both know how much you love Tulane and as much as I know you love me, I won’t let you give up an opportunity like this. Not when you’ve been so supportive of me.” He tugs me closer. “Have you toured the campus?”
“Mom and I are supposed to sometime, but…”
“But, what?”
“The only opening they have is this weekend.”
“Well, that sucks, but I don’t want you putting off your future for me.”