She goes upstairs to change clothes before returning to join us for dinner. She doesn’t say anything while she eats. She doesn’t even seem to react to the chatter going on around her. Though I’m not one to talk. I keep staring at her, trying to decipher what she’s thinking. I’m relieved she’s back. I’m also afraid of whatever has her seeming distracted.
I catch Sol looking at her, too. He never stops smiling, never misses a beat in conversation with the others. But I notice his eyes flicking to Rose several times, brows furrowing, like maybe he’s trying to read her mind, too.
When dinner is finished, everyone scatters. Some go to the living room, others go to do chores, like washing all the muddy clothes from today. And Rose stands, gathering the dishes and moving to the sink.
I don’t move from my chair. I’m still watching her, my mouth opening and closing as I try to force out words, even though I have no idea what I want to say to her.
“If you’re going to sit there and stare at me, you could at least come over and dry the dishes, you know.”
“Sorry. I …” There’s no point finishing that statement. Iget to my feet and walk over to stand next to Rose.
She hands me a wet plate and an old, raggedy dish towel. I take them and wait for a moment, but she doesn’t say anything.
“You came back.” I say it quietly as I begin to dry. “I wasn’t sure you would.”
She glances over at me as she shoves her hands into the sudsy water again. At first she doesn’t reply, but then, just as quietly, she says, “I wasn’t sure I would, either.”
I set the now-dry plate aside, listening for a second to the laughter of Zinnia and Lily in the living room and the gentle strumming of Sol’s guitar. I keep my voice down when I speak again. “I lied for you. I told them you were curious about the damage the storm had left.”
“Thanks.”
“I’ve never lied to Sol before,” I tell her, needing her to understand the gravity of what I’ve done. “It … it felt awful.”
“You didn’t have to do it,” she says. “I didn’t ask you to.”
“I know you didn’t. But I did have to.”
Our eyes meet, and for a moment I think she might understand. She might see what I’m trying to tell her: that I was scared of what would happen if Sol knew she’d left, that I can’t imagine carrying on my life here without her, that as much as I hateddoing it, lying to Sol was worth it if it meant she’d be okay.
But then Rose looks away, eyes dropping to the bowl she’s scrubbing a bit too violently, and we fall into silence.
We wash the rest of the dishes without a word, every second of which feels like a vise tightening around my heart. After handing me the last plate, Rose turns off the faucet and moves to walk out of the kitchen.
“Rose, wait.”
She doesn’t, though. She keeps walking. I hear Sol tell her their Growth Session will be in half an hour as the wooden steps to the attic creak beneath her bare feet.
I hastily dry the last plate and set it to the side before hurrying after her. But when I reach the attic door and see her standing by the dark window—the same one I watched her arrive through a couple of months ago now—I realize that I still have no idea what to say. All I know is that I can’t stand for this quiet between us to continue for another second.
Rose lets out a soft sigh before turning those soul-piercing eyes on me. She doesn’t say anything. Just waits. Waits for words I can’t find.
Eventually, I say the only thing I can think of.
“I’m … I’m sorry.”
“Whyare you apologizing?”
“What do you mean?” I ask. “Aren’t you upset with me?”
“Yeah.” Rose folds her arms over her chest. “Butwhyare you apologizing?”
I stare at her, not entirely comprehending what she’s asking. Rose can tell I’m floundering, though, and that, clearly, isn’t the answer she’s looking for. She closes her eyes and shakes her head, her curtains of tangled raven hair covering her pale face for a moment. Her obvious disappointment makes me feel so small.
“What do you want me to say?” I whisper. “I’ll do it. I feel awful, Rose.”
“You feel awful because I’m mad at you,” Rose points out. “That’s not the same as feeling bad about what you did.”
“I do feel bad about it. I feel terrible.”
