“I will. Promise.”
As I watched him jog away, I thought about the grief we had in common. It might be a sad sort of bond to share, but it made me feel less alone.
The more I thought aboutpretend and sweat, the more convinced I became that Scott’s advice was worth a try.
I waited until my parents were in bed to get started. It wouldn’t be good for them to stumble across me working on my brother’s room.
Okay, deep breath. I can do this.
I made it as far as the closed door and paused, my hand on the knob, bracing myself.
Minutes passed. Minutes, minutes, minutes.
Go in already. It’s just a bedroom. Soon to be somebody else’s.
Since my body wouldn’t obey me, we waited out there in the hall. Just the two of us.
I can do this.
Or maybe not.
It was past ten PM, too late to call Lacey. Should I postpone until she could come over?
No, the first move had to be mine.Pretend.I turned the knob and stepped inside.
My brother’s room awaited me—dim, muted, preserved. The scent of Irish Spring soap lingered in the air, threatening to reawaken the best of my memories. I inhaled sharply, more of a sob than a breath. I wasn’t ready to remember the laughter and the teasing. The silly secrets and innocent plans.
A desire to flee clawed at me, but I resolutely shook it off. I’d failed him on his last night. I would succeed at this.
Okay,move.
I crossed to the closest window, raised the shades, and let in the moonlight. Spinning around, I leaned on the ledge and surveyed the space as objectively as I could. There were faint tracks in the carpet from a vacuum. The bed had been made, furniture dusted, mirrors polished.
My tolerance for pretending was fading fast. I had to do something symbolic. Something brief and victorious.
There were a dozen framed images from the Hubble telescope displayed on the walls. Could I take them down?
Not tonight.
Something more impersonal?
I flicked on the desk lamp and opened a drawer. Full. Glanced into the closet. Full. All of his clothes were still hanging here. Just as he’d left them.
Nope, the closet was too personal.
A plan. That’s what was missing. And crates for the things I’d keep. And cartons for the things I’d give away.
There. I needed to buy storage containers. A perfectly legitimate excuse for getting out of there and returning in the morning.
I banged the door shut behind me and darted across the hall to my room.
Something else that I would need was a good night’s sleep. I grabbed a prescription bottle from the stash in my nightstand, ignoring the quiver in my hand, torn as always between the fear of addiction and the certainty of being fuzzy in the morning.
I checked my journal. It had been five days since I’d taken a sleeping pill. An adequate span of time. I opened the lid and shook a tablet onto my palm.
Okay, slow down and think.Did Ineedit to sleep? Or did Iwantit?
It would be fine to take it. Really. Tomorrow would be a hard day, made even harder if I was fogged over from exhaustion.
