“Sure.” Give away. Throw away. These were sheets. Just sheets. I didn’t recognize them. Didn’t know if my brother had ever used them. But the possibility that they might smell like him panicked me so badly I could hardly breathe. I stumbled backwards until I hit the door. “Um, wait. Sorry, but I have to leave. My shift at the shop starts soon.” It wasn’t really a lie. I had two hours. If I left now, I would just be extremely punctual.
“Certainly. I can complete the task by myself.”
“Good. Well. I’ll clean up your new residence on my way out.”
“Thank you, Sara. I shall see you tomorrow.”
Status Report #1
Saturday’s Wish: Breakdown of a bed
Dear Boss,
I welcome the chance to serve with you again. While I know that it is unusual for a principal to return to granting wishes, the circumstances justify it as a temporary measure. I prefer to view these status reports as daily opportunities for counsel. Do you agree that they are a mere formality?
Sara Tucker maintains a façade of calm, and there were moments when her serenity was genuine. However, I think it’s likely that the effort to pack Sean’s room will shake her to the core. Harsh as it may sound, I hope that is true. She needs a better outlet for the emotions trapped inside her.
I completed today’s wish alone. Although I shall press her in the days ahead to be more actively involved, it is sensible to increase her participation gradually.
Sara requires that I call her by her given name. As a principal, I can, of course, honor that request.
Regards,
Grant
6
Concrete Steps
For most of my life, Sunday mornings were spent at church. I hadn’t attended since February. There were too many people with too much sympathy and pitying stares. I avoided both.
Since our shop was closed on Sunday, I could have a lazy day. After dressing, I left my room and hesitated in the hallway. Seeing my brother’s door standing ajar, I couldn’t resist peeking in. The mattress and box springs sat on the floor, stripped. It changed the character of the room. Made it more impersonal. That was good.
As I made my way to the patio, I stopped at the door to the garage and opened it. A pile of lumber, formerly his bed frame, lay in the fourth stall, surrounded by three overstuffed trash bags.
I closed the door softly and continued to the sunroom. The day was bright already. It would be blazing by afternoon.
My brother had practically lived out here for his final weeks. Right after hospice had removed their equipment, Mom had remodeled this space. Where it had once been decorated in yellow and orange stripes, Mom changed the theme to cool blues and greens in a botanical print. The new look was soothing. At a purely selfish level, I liked it better.
The stone wall edging the patio held a lantern. I pushed the exterior door open and called out, “Grant?”
He appeared before me, yawning. “Good morning, Sara.”
“Morning. Did you sleep well?”
“It was adequate.” At my frown of concern, he smiled. “The lantern isn’t the problem. It’s quite charming. Any difficulties I have with sleeping are chronic.”
“Yeah, I understand that.”
“You must suffer from insomnia as well.” He inclined his head. “Have you discovered anything that helps?”
A blush warmed my cheeks. The medication was prescribed. I was being careful about how often I took it. But I still didn’t like admitting that I had to. “I sometimes take pills.”
“A useful solution. In the short term.”
“Agreed.” Time to change the subject. But to what? Something cheery? The next wish, which would be...?
I couldn’t think about wishes before coffee and food. “I’m making pancakes. Want some?”
