She doesn’t often talk about her sister, so I take the opportunity to prod a bit deeper. “You’ve mentioned your sister before. How was she different from you?”
A soft smile graces Alis’s face and she looks out my office window as she answers. “Belle was … she was amazing in every way.”
“Doesn’t sound any different from you yet,” I interject. Her cheeks flush at my comment.
She looks back to me and continues. “Belle had a never-ending supply of positive energy. She was the life of the party, but not in an arrogant way. She didn’t cause a scene to make herself the center of attention; people just couldn’t help but be drawn to her. She was snarky and sarcastic without being rude. She was beautiful and popular, but not in a Mean Girls kind of way. She had this way of making you feel like the most important person in the world when in a conversation. Like, um, how do I explain it …” she pauses, trying to put words to her thoughts.
“She focused her attention on the person she was speaking with instead of multitasking?” I ask.
Alis snaps her fingers and points in confirmation. “Yes! Exactly!” The smile on her face as she continues gushing about her sister is incredible. I’ve seen her happy plenty of times over the last few months, but I’ve never seen her light up quite this much.
“She was my very best friend. And I don’t just say that because she’s gone and I only think about the good times. She truly was my very best friend. Never treated me like a nuisance or a child. Never made me feel insecure or awkward about my introverted personality. I mean, she definitely pushed me to live outside my comfort zone,but not in a way that made me feel pressured or like something was wrong with me.”
“What do you mean by that?” I ask. “Why would you ever think there was something wrong with you?”
“Poor word choice. What I meant was that Belle never made me feel awkward for being introverted or for living in my own comfort bubble. She wanted me to go on adventures with her and she certainly talked me into doing a lot of crazy stuff I’d never have had the nerve to do on my own, but she was encouraging about it. Not demeaning. Does that make sense?”
I nod, and she continues.
She pauses again and laughs, shaking her head and looking down at the empty paper plate she’s fidgeting with on her lap. “She took risks — ran off to Ireland for a semester abroad, fell in love at first sight, and eloped with her husband two weeks later. I thought mom was going to have a stroke when Belle called and said, ‘I’m a Donnelly!’”
Alis is now using her entire upper body to tell the story and it’s mesmerizing to watch her light up this way.
“At first my mom thought a Donnelly was some sort of Irish slang, and when she asked for clarification Belle squealed, ‘I’m married! Alex and I eloped!’ I laughed so hard at the expression on her face. She froze for a few seconds until Belle said, ‘Mom?’ and then she snapped out of it and yelled for my dad to get his ass in the kitchen before she strangled their oldest through the phone.”
“Damn,” I laugh.
“Seriously. I thought my dad would take mom’s side and say she was crazy for eloping after only knowing the guy for two weeks, but he didn’t. He asked her if he was a good man, and she said yes. He asked if she was in love, and she said yes. Then he asked to talk to Alex and she handed over the phone to him. Dad asked him the same questions and then said, ‘Alright. I don’t know you, but I know my daughter and I trust that she wouldn’t have hitched herself to you if she wasn’t certain you are what she wants. Be good to her. Make sure you bring her back at the end of the semester, and we’ll begood. Try to keep her in Ireland, and I’ll gut you.’” At this point, Alis can barely talk through her laughter. Her dad sounds great, and also terrifying.
“How did Alex react to that?” I ask.
“He said, ‘Yes, sir. We’ll see you in December.’ And then they got off the phone.” She shrugs her shoulders as if to saythe end.
Alis calms her laughter and then lets out a wistful sigh. “They flew home at the end of the semester and built their life in Moraine. You’d think the extroverted sister would want to spend her life traveling the world and living all over the place, but Belle was always certain that she wanted a family, and she wanted to raise that family in Moraine. I, on the other hand, never imagined I’d live there again once I left for college. It took me a while to adjust to living back home after she passed.”
“I can see how much you loved her,” I say, laying my hand on her intertwined fingers now resting on her lap. Her breath hitches at the contact but she doesn’t pull away from my touch; instead, she looks up into my eyes, slowly, and breathes out, “Yeah. I did. I really, really did.”
I tempt fate and leave my hand where it lay, stroking my thumb over hers. “You’re more like her than you think,” I say quietly, looking up from our hands and into her eyes.
Alis scrunches her brow. “How can you say that when you didn’t know her?” she asks, not in a snarky way but as if she’s genuinely wondering how I came to this conclusion.
“You’re right. I didn’t know her. But I know you, and I know everything you’ve told me about her. I haven’t heard a single thing about Belle that couldn’t be said about you as well.”
I pause, tilting my head to the side a bit, and I squeeze her hand as I jest, “Well, except for enjoying being the center of attention and eloping after knowing someone for only two weeks. You seem the type to be more keen on sleeping in the Parisian catacombs than having a spotlight pointed at you.”
Alis responds by chuckling and rolling her eyes. “I don’t knowthat I’d go that far, but you’re right that being singled out in a group of people is pretty much my worst nightmare.”
“I think teaching is your exception,” I comment. She looks down at our hands, still one on top of the other, and blushes.
“Thank you,” she says, and then calmly and slowly slides her hands from under mine. Sliding her gaze from our hands to the stack of papers on the table, Alis takes the opportunity to venture out of personal conversation territory and back to the task at hand.
She nods her head toward the coffee table and says, “We should grade.”
TWENTY-TWO
Alis
Umph. “What the?!”I bolt upright in bed and look to my left, then to my right, before realizing my sleep mask is still on and I can’t see a darn thing. Someone launched themselves onto my full-sized bed, waking me before my alarm. Pulling my eye mask down to my neck, I see Skye perched on her elbow, smirking at me like she knows something.
