“Come on,” she said. “Let’s get you to bed.”
Not bothering to get undressed, I flopped onto the mattress, my mother watching from the hall.
“Sleep well, honey.” She began to shut the door.
“Mom?”
“Mm-hmm?”
“Do you remember the story you used to tell me at bedtime?”
“I do,” she said softly.
“I used to love that,” I murmured, shutting my eyes.
Moments later, her voice whispered through the dark. I smiled when she got to my favorite part.
When the girl got tired, the whale would carry her on her back.
When the girl was sad, the whale would call upon the seals, who would bark and chirp and show off for the girl and always made her laugh.
When it was time for the girl to go home for dinner, the whale said goodbye with a wave of her tail.
And then I fell asleep.
Throwing off the sheets now, I cross to the window. Outside, reality stares back at me. Not rainforest. Not beach. Not mountains nor mist. There’s my brother’s truck. There’s my father’s blue-sided workshop, and the field beyond. There’s the cedar hedge and the apple tree.
The week I spent with George almost seems like a dream. I didn’t speak to him on our drive to the airport, but when we said goodbye, I let him hug me while I cried.
“I love you,” he told me. “I love you. I love you. I love you.”
There’s a quiet thud of boots on the stairs, followed by a soft knock on the door.
“Frankie, you up?”
Darwin, the traitor. He and Moby were there when George spilled his guts to Nate. They could have told me.
I glare at the door. “Go away.”
“Frankie, open up.”
“I don’t want to talk to you.”
He knocks again.
“You know I can take the door off its hinges. Or pick the lock. Or kick it down.” All things he’s done. “I also know how George climbs up to the roof and goes through the window. But it’ll be less embarrassing for both of us if you open the door.”
I cross the room, prepared to yell at my brother, but when I open the door, he pulls me into his great big chest.
“How did you know?” I ask, tears falling anew.
“George texted me. What happened?”
“He told me why Nate left.”
Darwin releases me, his face turning pale. “About that…”
I’m too ravaged for anger. I feel shaved down to nothing, like the fields in late summer after the hay has been cut back.
