I frown. “I’m not your sister.”
“You kind of are.”
“Not at all.”
David laughs again. “Just let me pretend, okay? I’ve never had a sibling.”
“Me neither.”
He leans back against the chair and pulls at the knot his tie makes at the base of his throat. “I pulled you away because I wanted to thank you for giving me that box. I’m not sure what happened to make you hate my dad, but you giving me those things,” he pauses, his voice thickening. He shakes his head as if to clear it. “It means a lot to me.”
I nod, acknowledging his words. Every time I came across something of Ted’s, I’d wanted to throw it out. Touching my stepdad’s old baseball glove, the leather soft and supple, made my stomach curl. Every item I tossed into that box made me nauseous. Before I’d thought about giving it to David, that box was headed for a landfill.
Seeing the gratitude on his face makes me feel happy, and that’s a hell of a lot better than the sick enjoyment I’d get from dumping Ted’s belongings in the garbage.
“It’s no problem. Of all his belongings, those are things my mother saved, so they must’ve meant a lot to him too.”
“Are you almost finished clearing out the house?”
“Nearly. Salvation Army comes Monday to pick up all the furniture and kitchen stuff. Her clothes. Stuff like that.” All that’s left is her desk. I’ve saved it for last, but I don’t know why. The idea of sifting through her desk feels ominous. My desk at home holds old CDs I can’t bear to throw out even though I no longer own a CD player. Stamps, my collection of colored Sharpies, old notebooks. None of it anything anyone should feel trepidation over finding. But this is my mother. The woman who reinvented herself to be with a man. The rest of the house hasn’t revealed one scrap of evidence that underneath her tough exterior, she loved me. I don’t know what I’m looking for; maybe a photo of her smiling and bouncing me on her knee? A messy finger paint, or a Thanksgiving project with my handprint decorated like a turkey and the wordsI’m thankful for Mommywritten in childish letters. The only things I have from my childhood are thingsIsaved, and I didn’t start doing that until I was older.
“Don’t take this the wrong way, Lennon, but—” David shifts, his discomfort obvious.
“What?” I press. A sentence started out that way almost always ends in something offensive being said.
“You don’t seem very sad?” He palms the air in front of him, already defending his observation. “That sounded bad. I didn’t mean it that way. People show their grief in different ways. Maybe you wear yours on the inside.”
I sigh and look down at my shoes. How do I respond? The only way I know how, I guess. Honestly.
“I don’t seem sad because I’m not. Not in the way people are usually sad when a parent dies.” I look up into David’s shocked face and open my mouth to explain. “My mom and I weren’t close. Ever. To you, she was a kind, helpful woman. To me, she was hateful. There was something about me she abhorred.” David opens his mouth, probably to refute me because it shouldn’t be true, but I shake my head and he stops. “I know you’re having a hard time believing that, but it’s true. I’m not telling you this to ruin your image of her. You asked, and this is my answer.”
David’s mouth falls closed, and he nods once. “I guess I can respect that.”
Chuckling lightly, I tell him, “You’ll have to.”
“Are you ever going to tell me why you hated my dad?”
Would I feel good if I told him the truth? Maybe. Would I feel vindicated? Maybe. Would I ruin his image of Ted? Probably.
“No, David.”
He nods, but I can see his disappointment. His gaze falls on something over my shoulder. To me, he says, “Your friends are looking for you.”
Twisting, I see Brady, Finn, and Laine. I lift a hand and wave. The rustle of heavy clothing beside me tells me David is getting to his feet, so I stand too.
“Everything okay out here?” Finn asks, his eyes on David.
“Everything is fine,” I assure him, taking a few steps away from the chair and meeting him halfway. “Perfect timing. David... er, Pastor Thomas and I just finished our conversation.”
David steps up behind me. “Thanks for letting me borrow her for a few minutes.” His tone is friendly and good-natured.
Finn nods his head, and Brady steps up and offers his hand. He introduces himself, and he and David spend a few minutes talking about people they both know. The people they have in common are all members of the congregation, and Finn and I know them too, but we stay quiet while Brady and David make small talk.
Laine loops her arm through mine, locking us at our elbows. “Please don’t tell me there’s a third man vying for your attention.” Her whisper is so soft, I can barely hear her.
Shaking my head, I whisper back, “Not at all. I’ll fill you in later.” David asked me to keep his connection to my stepdad a secret, but I don’t think telling Laine counts.
“Lennon, I’ve got to get back in there.” David points to the room he pulled me from. “Good luck with everything.”
