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More hugs, less hatred.
Until tonight, apparently, when I spoiled her plans of doing God-knows-what with the vile Wyatt Nippersink.
Squeezing my car keys in my fist, I finally exit the vehicle and make my way inside, grateful that the Baileys are already in bed. The house is dimmed, the lights all turned down aside from a few of those scented plug-ins, Yoshi’s glowing eyes as he watches me with a wagging tail from his dog bed, and moonlight through the cracked drapes. June must’ve gone straight to her room, desperate to get away from me and any potential further interrogation.
I trudge up the staircase, turning left into my bedroom, not bothering to flip on the light switch. I’m exhausted, prepared to fall face-first onto my mattress and pass the hell out. Reaching behind my back, I pull my T-shirt over my head, then move toward my dresser to discard my wallet and car keys.
“I never mean to worry you, you know.”
Her soft voice stops me in my tracks. I spin around and discover June sitting on the edge of my full-sized bed, her shadowy silhouette barely visible in the darkened room. “June?” I approach slowly, blinking through the hazy wall between us. “What are you doing in here?”
She doesn’t respond right away, and I can’t see what she’s doing or what she’s focused on. “I just wanted to apologize,” she mutters quietly.
I take another step forward, watching as she takes shape before me, still clad in her peach sundress. “You don’t need to. I understand you’re sixteen, and you’re going to get into trouble and rebel, and—”
“I wanted to apologize for more than tonight,” she cuts in. “I wanted to apologize for every time I’ve made you angry, made you sad, or scared, made you question how much I love you, and how much I always have.”
I stare at her, and I notice her gaze drop to my bare chest, mildly illuminated by the soft window light. She fiddles with a loose string on my comforter, averting her eyes to the floor.
“You don’t have to do that either.” My voice sounds so raw, so naked in this quiet room. Taking a few more paces toward the bed, I sit down beside her, the mattress squeaking beneath the added weight. I clasp my knees with my palms, then glance at her in the dark. My eyes have adjusted, and I can see the mascara streaks smudged beneath her eyes. She’s been crying. “Junebug. It’s okay.”
She sniffs a little. “Sometimes I think about how fragile life is, you know? I go mad, wondering the last thing I said to you before you drove off to work, or before I left for school. Was it cruel? Were we arguing? What if it was something wicked and it was the last thing I ever said to you?”
I’m not sure where this is coming from. A frown furls between my eyes as I sit there, shoulder to shoulder with her, lost for words.
“What was the last thing your parents ever said to you?” she asks suddenly.
My next breath lodges in my throat. The room seems to dim darker, my skin prickling with razor-edged memories. “June, don’t…”
“Please, Brant. I want to know about your past, about why you’ve never seen me as a sister. I feel like it’s all related somehow, and I want to understand. I want to understand you.” June reaches out, taking my hand in hers and grazing her thumb along my knuckles. I tense a little, startled by the gesture. Unsteadied by the way my heart skips at the contact. “I miss how close we used to be, and I hate that I’ve caused distance. It truly kills me.”
“You’re growing up, Junebug,” I tell her. “It’s natural. Lullabies and bedtime stories don’t last forever.”
She smiles softly, almost sadly. “Growing up isn’t the same as outgrowing. I’ll never be too old for the rainbow song.”
My heart continues to skip its strange, unfamiliar beats, and I swallow through my nod.
“Can I lie down with you?”
“What?” I shake my head, pulling my hand away. “You’re too old for that.”
Vivid recollections spill into my mind as I remember the innocent days of little June crawling into bed with me after a nightmare, or falling asleep in my arms after reading her favorite book.
But those years have slipped away, traded for social propriety and seemliness.
“How so?” she ponders, and it’s almost as if her innocence was never lost. “You’re still Brant, and I’m still June, right?”
I glance at her, gnawing on my cheek. “You’re right.”
“So what’s age got to do with it?”
“It’s just not appropriate anymore. I’m a man now, and you’re still a girl.”
“But we’re still the same people.”
Blowing out a breath, I look away, tenting my hands. I’m having trouble countering her logic, considering there’s nothing unsavory about her proposal. Lying back on the bed, I scoot over to the far wall, making room for her. “Okay, then.”
I see her smile brighten, even in the dark. June takes her place beside me, leaving a small gap between us, and we both lie on our backs, gazing up at the popcorn ceiling. We stay like that for a while, drinking in the silence, savoring the connection.
