“He could be kind of annoying that way,” Uncle Jake says. “But it’s why everyone loved him. Especially yourmom.”
We’re both quiet for a moment, lost in our own separate memories. Sitting here in the darkening kitchen, I’m struck by how different this feels. There’s something blunt about the pain right now, something almost toothless. Maybe it’s the fading light, or maybe it’s the puppy in my lap. Maybe it’s just temporary, or maybe this is what happens when you talk through something so that it starts to lose its knife-sharp edge, so that the corners get sanded down into something duller, something slightly less acute.
Maybe this is what it means to let time work its magic. Or maybe there’s no magic to it at all. Maybe tomorrow it will all go back to normal.
Poof. Just like that.
But not now. Not yet.
“Hey,” I say, and Lucky lifts his head. “I know it’s really hard for you—”
“Yes,” Uncle Jake says before I can finish.
“And it’s not always easy for me either—”
“Yes,” he says again.
“And honestly I’m not even sure I want to—”
“Yes.”
“But I think maybe it could help. To talk about them more with you. So if it’s okay—”
“Yes,” he says, nodding. His eyes are rimmed with red, and he looks very tired, but he’s smiling now. “You’re right. I know you’re right.”
“And maybe it won’t seem so hard if we stop thinking of them as Conversations with a capital C,” I continue, watching him carefully. “Maybe it’d be easier if we just kept it all kind of lowercase for now. At least to start.”
Uncle Jake looks thoughtful. “That could probably work.”
“But?”
He points at the bowl in the middle of the table. “Do we still get to keep the chocolate?”
“I think I can live with that,” I tell him.
I’m eating breakfast the next morning when Leo walks in with two cream-colored envelopes. The one on top has my name written in cursive across the front.
“Are you and Max getting married already?” I joke, dropping my spoon into the cereal bowl. “So nice of you guys to invite me.”
Leo isn’t really listening; he just walked Max out to his car—so that he can get back to Michigan in time for finals—and he still seems a little dazed. He sends one of the envelopes spinning across the table in my direction, but it skids onto the floor, startling Lucky, who has been dozing at my feet.
“What is it?” I ask, leaning to pick it up, then tearing it open. The paper is thick and expensive, and it has a pearly shine to it.
“No idea. Someone slipped them under the door.”
His eyes are bloodshot this morning, either from too much caffeine or lack of sleep or just Max’s sudden absence in the wake of his sudden appearance. Last night the two of them returned home hours after they left with matching smiles and a giddy, nervous energy about them. Uncle Jake paused the movie we were watching as they stood in the doorway of the living room, both bouncing on their toes.
“How much coffee did you guys have?” I asked, rubbing my eyes.
“Five cups!” Leo said, and Max gave us a manic grin.
“Seven for me.”
Aunt Sofia had raised her eyebrows. “And?”
“And we talked,” Leo said, looking at me as if this explained everything. Which it sort of did.
When they headed to the kitchen to get some leftover pizza, I saw Max reach for Leo’s hand. They paused, their eyes locked and their hands knotted between them. They were just beyond the doorway, but from where I was sitting I could still see the look they exchanged, full of such obvious love that I actually let out a sigh.
