I wave the photo against my palm. I’m not sure now is the time to recap to myself that time passing can also equate to wearing off and making room for a revival or change.
And for now, I just want to get on with my day.
I setthe food on the kitchen counter. It’s just rotisserie chicken and a few sides from the deli. Figured, there would be leftovers for tomorrow. A quick glance at the oven clock and it’s already time for when Summer must be almost done with Bo’s nighttime routine, so I decide to let her know that dinner is ready since the chicken just came out of the rotisserie at the store and is still warm.
I jog up the stairs but halt when I arrive at the top because I hear a sniffle. Teetering on my feet, I slowly approach Bo’s nursery, and with the door partly ajar with only the nightlight on, I can see that he’s asleep.
Summer? She’s standing over the crib and watching him, wiping her tears away.
She must hear me because her head lifts gently in my direction, and she quickly smears a tear with the back of her hand along her cheek then takes a few paces to the door,silently stepping out, only to turn her back to me to pull the door closed.
My hand comes up to rest on her shoulder. “You okay?”
Her body melts into my hand that suddenly feels heavy.
“Fine. Just dust or something.”
I encourage her to turn around and face me, and even though I succeed, her sight hangs low. “If that’s what you want me to believe then I’ll play along, but something tells me this happens a lot.”
“Can we not make a deal out of this?” she quietly requests.
I blow out a breath. “If that’s what you want, even though bullshit isn’t my style.”
Her puffy eyes give me attention. “It’s not a daily occurrence if that’s what you’re thinking.”
“Of course not, you dust the house every other day.”
She appreciates my attempt to turn her sad moment around, but the quarter of a smile quickly wilts, her chin trembling instead. Summer steps forward, and my body reacts by bringing my arms up and engulfing her as she dives her face into my chest.
A hug.
That’s what we find ourselves in.
She creates the barest of inches between my chest and her mouth, only to mumble, “I’m not sure if I’m sad that Zac is gone or… you’re back, and I wonder too much what it all would’ve been like if our road were different long ago between you and me.” More tears fall. “Does that make me a horrible person?”
I think I needed to hear her say that. I’m not alone. From instinct, I’m quick to wrap my arms around her and pull her tight to my body. Every bit of distance that I’ve attempted tokeep between us over the years vanishes, and it feels as though a key turned.
“Don’t ever think that.” I kiss the top of her head, wanting with everything in my body to protect her from another cry that may escape.
“It hurts,” she mutters before burying her head once more into my chest.
This is where she is supposed to be. That makesmethe horrible person, because it’s all I can think about. That she’s supposed to be in my arms when she’s in mourning for my brother.
But now isn’t the time to explore my confliction.
“Today you forgot to dust it seems.”
She chortles because apparently that loosens her down a level. “It was laundry day. I was too busy putting your ugly proboscis monkey stuffed animal in the washing machine,” she quips.
Now I smile out all of my emotion. “You still have your wit, it seems. Come on, you need to eat. We’re not really debating that, either.”
Our eyes meet and they say enough.
Turns out we may just be able to support one another together.
A far cry from arguing in the lake.
10
