"Oh, wow, full already? That's great." I pushed down my guilt over the clothes I purchased from Walmart to donate. There was a good deed in there somewhere.
Diane shook her head, her neat bob moving silkily around her face. "Just the clothing section. We could use more home decor like wall art, candlesticks, vases, photo frames." She rolled her hand in an et cetera gesture. "That sort of thing."
I swirled a chunk of spaghetti around my fork. "I have plenty of those around the house. I stuck a few photo frames at the back of my wardrobe last summer. Plus, you know me and cooking," I chuckled as I shoveled a fork full of pasta into my mouth. "That'swhy I rely on your leftovers. I'm useless in the kitchen. So there's a lot of cooking and baking stuff I can gift you."
I chased my food down with a large gulp of water. "I even have a few throw pillows that I never use," I continued. "Although, they would need a good airing –"
"Those were Hannah's."
Sarah's words cut through like a razorblade, her tone sharp and firm. My startled glance fell on her, my fork hanging halfway to my mouth.
She stared stonily back at me, her mouth twisted in distaste.
A hollow feeling bubbled in my throat, and I cursed myself for being so careless with my words. I hadn't been thinking. "O-of course. Yes, they were Hannah's."
"It wasallHannah's," Sarah bitingly emphasized. "Those 'baking stuff' were purchased before you moved in together because Hans wanted to be the best wife possible and bake for you every Sunday. Those photo frames were supposed to be for future memories of you two and your children. Those throw pillows –"
"Sarah," Diane admonished, her face red with controlled shock. "That's quite enough."
"But –"
"No more," she snapped, dropping her fork to her plate with a loud clatter. There was a look of distressed sadness on her face.
Sarah opened her mouth but then wisely thought twice. She rolled her lips in as a pink flush climbed up her cheeks. Heavy tension hung in the air as awkward silence lingered following her outburst. I understood where Sarah was coming from. She was protective of her sister's memory. I was, too.
But I couldn't wallow anymore. I couldn't languish in my museum of memories and choosing stolen moments with faceless women. I had seen that peek of sunshine again, and I intended to recapture its beam.
"Sar, I shouldn't have been so blasé about Hannah's things. Aboutourthings," I stressed, needing to clarify that I had ownership of all those frilly pillows and throw rugs.
"But I can't keep holding onto it all. It's time for me to start letting those small things go and for new people to enjoy them. Everything that's sentimental to me from Hannah, I'm keeping "
"They're still her stuff," Sarah stubbornly pushed, her face flushed. "You feel ready to get rid of them already?"
Her question had my eyes widening. The way she framed it made me out to be a callous bastard. Annoyance lanced through me that we, again, had to mitigate Sarah's latest outburst. "No offense, Sarah, but that's none of your business."
She flinched as if slapped, and her eyes grew a slight sheen. I knew she was shocked at my candor. I had never spoken to her so harshly before, but I wouldn't tolerate her attempt at making me feel guilty for wanting to move on.
Sarah breathed deeply, her mouth tight. Her head bowed briefly in composure until her shoulders slowly came down. She graced me with a small smile, although her eyes were still fiery.
"Fair enough. I apologize for overstepping." She didn't sound particularly sincere, but I was happy to let it go.
I gave her a complacent smile. "That's okay. I know it's a sensitive topic."
Her gaze dropped from mine briefly before she raised her head and fixed me with a challenging look. "Just let me go through her things and donate what you don't need."
My gut sank. Her words confirmed she hadn't meant her apology at all.
How would you know what I don't need?
I wisely swallowed the retort. I didn't want to start an argument and upset Diane further. Plus, it was obvious that the subject hit a raw nerve for Sarah, and perhaps I was partially at fault for bringing it up so casually during dinner, withoutwarning. This was why I hadn't wanted Sarah here tonight. If this was her reaction to the dated pillows Hannah had loved, then she wouldn't like what I was planning to ask. Once again I wondered whether I should put my request off for tonight and take Diane out to lunch instead. I had to at least try to get her alone.
After that, the conversation never picked up its comfortable flow. I focused on finishing my tasteless dinner while Sarah and Diane attempted amicable small talk.
Finally, after the longest meal, we all retired to the living room with coffee and Diane's banana cake.
I sipped my hot drink leisurely, my outward appearance seemingly relaxed. Yet, inside, I was a ball of anxiousness. I even declined Diane's delicious cake—something I never did. I just knew it would sit like a rock in my stomach.
My glance continuously fell on the giant clock in the living room, wondering when Sarah would leave. I was becoming more and more frustrated as she rambled on about shit I didn't care about. Diane wore a patient smile as she indulged her daughter, although I caught her glance drifting to the clock every now and then. It was starting to get late, and I had an early start tomorrow. I could feel my hope draining.
