4
JILLIAN
Wisconsin never changes—not much anyway. Not where I’m from. I can barely make out the farm in the dark. It sure smells the same. The unmistaken stench of cow shit, pig shit, all kinds of shit.
Coming home used to be such fun. I’d be so excited. Now it seems every time I come home, I find myself crying. Everyone I love is dying, and I can’t do anything to stop it.
I rest my forehead against the frosty pane of glass. My head bumps it a bit with each dip in the drive leading up to the main house. I can see the lights through the trees. Aunt Leah and the family must be here.
I sigh. I don’t want to talk to them. I don’t want to talk to anyone. But they’re suffering, too, so I’ll do what I can to comfort them. Then I’ll go to Dad’s room and crawl into the comfort of his bed and blanket and the darkness, and try not to cry too hard.
I already miss my friends. I miss Leo. He was there with me until we had to part ways at the airport. We held one another a long time. He kissed my lips so softly and sweetly, I didn’t want to leave.
I don’t know how or when it happened, but he’s started calling me baby. I think it’s adorable. Audrey rolled her eyes and pretended to gag, but I knew she was joking. They seem happy but skeptical. I can’t blame them. I am too.
Aunt Leah comes out to greet us. She looks as worn out as I feel. I don’t know how she’s managing with those four hoodlums she calls sons. They’re terrors. Maybe they sense her sadness and are giving her a break.
I hear a holler and I know I’ve not judged them too harshly. They’re, as my Granny Fox used to say, hooligans.
“Jillie.” Aunt Leah’s voice breaks and I’m wrapped up in her embrace. I don’t want to be hugged. It feels wrong. This whole thing feels wrong. Saying my dad is dead feels… erroneous.
I don’t even say anything. It’s all still a blur. Aunt Ruthie does the talking for me and leads me into the house. The boys try to engage, but I just give them a fake smile. They each give me a hug and walk away.
“There’s some food, if you’re hungry. You know how it is around here when someone…” Aunt Leah breaks off.
“Maybe some dessert,” I find myself saying.
Aunt Ruthie raises her brows. I just shrug. I don’t care if I put on eleven thousand pounds. They made the food to help comfort us. I’m gonna eat it—even though I usually eat healthier. I can’t seem to care about anything.
I take a huge slice of vanilla cake, then a slice of carrot cake, and one last slice of what smells like spice cake. My plate is heaping and I’m gaining weight just looking at it. I snatch up a fork.
“I’m going upstairs if that’s okay?”
Aunt Leah gives me a one-arm hug. “I’ll take your Aunt Ruthie up to get settled when she’s ready, so you don’t need to worry about her.”
“Cool. Thanks. Goodnight everyone.”
“Callum, could you take Jillie’s bag up?”
“Yeah, sure.”
I look at Aunt Leah and then to Callum with shock. He’s never been easy to get to do anything.
“Thank you, Callum. I appreciate it.”
“No prob.” Callum’s not much younger than me, fourteen to my sixteen, but when he’s around, there’s usually chaos. Not tonight. Tonight he’s passive, and I wish he knew how much I appreciate that. But I don’t want to talk—to anyone.
“I’m taking Dad’s room. If that’s okay.”
“I figured as much,” Aunt Leah replies. “I set up your room for your Aunt Ruthie.”
I can’t even muster a fake grin to show my appreciation. In truth, I’m having a hard time getting myself up the stairs. But Callum’s behind me, laden with suitcases, though not complaining. One day I’ll thank him.
I finally make it to Dad’s room, and I drop to my knees. I set the plate of treats aside as I look around. Everything’s the same. How can he be gone if everything’s the same?
His hairbrush. His shoes lined up perfectly. His bed neatly made. Those square corners. My heart hurts so much.
“I brought you some tea,” Aunt Ruthie tells me.
