The drive away from the house feels lighter than the drive toward it did, even though nothing is resolved.
Even though Arthur hasn't called.
Even though I still don't know where I stand.
Hope creeps in anyway.
It whispers that maybe this isn't over. That maybe walking away wasn't the end.
I tell myself not to read into it.
I fail immediately.
***
My sister looks up when I walk in, eyes sharp, taking inventory of my face.
"You found him," she says.
I nod, collapsing onto the cushions. "At my old apartment. He was just sitting there, waiting."
She settles next to me, pulling her legs up underneath her. "Poor kid."
"Yeah," I whisper. "He thought it was his fault. The fight. Me leaving."
My sister doesn't answer immediately. She studies me with the kind of focus that makes me want to squirm. "Was it?"
"Of course not." The words come out clipped.
"Then what happened?"
"I took Henry to CAMICon without telling him." I keep my eyes on the coffee table, tracing a scratch in the wood with my finger.
"Oh no."
I wince.
"Without security." My stomach tightens as soon as I say it.
"Is that a big issue?"
"And then I lost him."
The room feels suddenly very quiet, like the words sucked all the air out of it.
My sister is dumbfounded. "Oh. No wonder he was upset."
"I found him again."
"That doesn't make it better."
"I know. But that is not the only reason we fought."
"Then why?" she asks.
I lean back against the cushions.
I stare at the ceiling, the weight of everything pressing against my chest.
