Page 73 of Just Like the Brontë Sisters

He looked me over—hat, mittens, boots, and skis. “Are you sure you’re ready to ski?”

“I’ll be fine.”

“I could go with you. I just need to run home and get my gear.”

I hesitated. The idea of quiet solitude, with pumping blood and an increased heart-rate, was what had made me want to go skiing in the first place. But I didn't want to hurt Gavin’s feelings. I was trying to form a response that would let him down easy when the front door opened.

“Oh good, you haven’t left yet.” Mitch stepped out onto the icy front porch, with nothing but socks covering his feet. He was holding a fussy Bijou. “Have you seen her favorite pacifier? I can’t find it anywhere.”

“Isn’t it by the bathroom sink?”

“No,” Mitch said. “That’s the one she doesn’t like. Maybe I’ll just drive to Target and get more of the type with a rounded nipple.”

“And have her scream the entire time you’re there?” I asked. “Do you want me to go instead?”

“What, right now?” Mitch squinted and looked at me, and then to Gavin, and then back to me. “Aren’t you guys about to go out?”

“Yeah,” said Gavin. “We’re about to go cross-country skiing. I’m sure the nipples can wait.”

Gavin didn’t hide his contempt, instead he sounded like he was shooting down some outrageous demand made by Mitch, who responded by wrinkling his forehead and shifting his weight. “No, of course. You guys go. I’ll figure it out.”

He quickly went inside and I glared at Gavin. “That was really rude.”

“What?”

“You know what.” I turned towards my front door. “I have responsibilities now, Gavin. Sorry, but I need to go to Target.”

Gavin didn’t try to stop me like he might have done a few months ago, and I couldn’t decide if I was relieved or chastised by his inaction. It didn’t matter, because there were more pressing concerns to deal with.

I went inside. “Hey, Mitch,” I called, as I shoved my skis into the closet and changed into normal walking shoes. “I can go to Target.”

No answer. I walked upstairs and found Mitch in the nursery, pacing back and forth with Bijou in his arms. She had stopped crying and I saw her favorite pacifier in her mouth.

“Where did you find it?” I asked quietly.

“It was shoved between the mattress and the edge of her crib.” He swayed back and forth and Bijou’s heavy head slowly fell to rest against his shoulder. Mitch’s face went all cubist on me, as he raised one bushy eyebrow and turned up only half his mouth. “Why aren’t you skiing with Gavin?”

My hand floated out in a dismissive wave. “Don’t worry about that. Sorry he was rude to you.”

Mitch’s smile turned broad, so now his eyes nearly closed and his dimples seemed a mile deep. “Poor Gavin.” He softly laughed. “Why did you send him away?”

A moment ago the need for new pacifiers had seemed like a code-red emergency, but I knew if I told Mitch that, he’d only laugh at me harder. “I didn’t know Gavin was stopping by,” I explained. “And I sort of wanted to ski on my own. That’s when I get my best ideas for writing.”

“Sure.” Mitch’s grin relaxed into a sort of slack-jawed happiness, though I really didn’t understand what he had to be so pleased about. “When are the two of you moving to Chicago?”

Why did that question make my windpipes tighten? It hurt to breathe out. “Who says I’m going?”

“Your mom.”

“What? No. I never said that to her, or to anyone. I just said I’d think about it.”

Mitch nodded. “Okay. I thought you’d decided, because, you know…”

“No. What?”

“Well, there are all these good schools in Chicago.” The dim afternoon light turned everything beige and his dark frame became my only focal point. “You could study literature and writing like you ought to, and since you and Gavin are in love, it only makes sense.”

It only makes sense? I dissected his statement, awkwardly shifting my weight, hovering in the nursery entrance, while my feet stayed exiled to the hallway. I thought about what Gavin had said, that Mitch talked to himself, that he was crazy, “I’m not in love with Gavin and I don’t want to move to Chicago,” As I said it, I realized for the first time it was how I felt. “I either want an East Coast school or I want to keep training for the Olympics.”

“Oh.” Mitch glided towards Bijou’s crib, where he gently laid her down. Once she was settled he straightened himself and came towards me. I didn’t move and he didn’t stop until we stood face to face, close enough so I could feel his warm breath against my cheek and see the gentle rise and fall of his chest. “You should tell him,” he whispered.

“I know. But I don’t know how.”

Mitch pressed his lips together and tilted his head to the side. His silence thickened the air and the fading afternoon light passed between us. The moment was more opulent than if we’d kissed, and it reminded me of the doomed, platonic relationship between Jake and Lady Brett in The Sun Also Rises. I was only thirteen when I’d read that book but now, six years later, I was finally starting to understand.

“You should tell him, Sky,” Mitch finally murmured. “Don’t break his heart any more than you have to.”