I'd slept well the first night we shared a room. Amy and I were both knee-deep in exhaustion, which was the only thing that could drive out the too-fresh memories of the events that had turned our entire world upside down. The second night, however, wasn't so easy for me. It was like the ghost of Mom was visiting me, but not the sweet and loving version of Mom. It was the angry one. The last version of her I ever saw. She stomped around in my head, blaming me for everything.
You're sad? Well, too bad. You wouldn't be so sad right now if you'd just minded your own business. What am I always telling you girls? Worry about yourself, not everyone else.
I could see the azure blaze of her eyes and the flame red in her cheeks, just like the day she'd died, when she'd screamed at me to get in the car. If I lived another day on this earth, I never wanted to see that expression in anyone's eyes again. I reached into my bedside table drawer that night, pulled out the flashlight I used for reading and stuck it under the covers. It provided just enough glow for me to see, so I did what any normal, hopelessly paranoid ten-year-old would do—I watched my sister sleep.
She was so beautiful when her mouth wasn't running a million miles a minute. Her complexion was perfect, her golden blond hair draped across her cheek, her mouth in a tiny “o”. Somewhere in my wound-too-tight mind I decided that this was how I could keep Amy safe. I would keep watch over her every night to make sure I wouldn't lose the person I loved most in the world. Eventually, I fell into a routine—I pretended to be asleep, carefully listening to her breaths until they became slow and perfectly even. I would then get out of bed, double check the locks on the windows, and make sure the shades were closed as tight as possible. I'd climb back under the covers and keep an eye on Amy for as long as I could stand it, before my body would eventually wave the white flag of surrender and slip into sleep.
To pass my time awake, I thought up ideas for booby traps to capture Gordon if he tried to get into our room. Unfortunately, most of my ideas were the stuff of Wile E. Coyote and involved things like anvils. I was ten. I had no clue where to get an anvil. It kept me up, though, and most important, Amy stayed safe and sound. There was no way I could've lived through another loss like the one we'd just endured. All these years later, I still felt that way—I couldn't live through another family tragedy. No more loss.
“Getting down to the nitty gritty, aren't we?” Amy's fiancé, Luke, stood in the hallway of our apartment outside her room, slugging down the remnants of a bottle of water, the flimsy plastic crinkling in on itself. He flashed his super sweet self-assured smile, the one that always made me think of Ryan Gosling memes.Hey girl…let me rub your feet while we watch Downton Abbey.
“We're getting there.” Amy folded in the flaps on another box and handed it to him while I packed up the last of her books.
Sweat dripped from Luke's brow. He'd been working hard all afternoon, up and down the stairs of our building with armfuls of my sister's stuff. His heather gray t-shirt saidThis is What a Feminist Looks Like. It clung to his pecs like it couldn't bear to let him go. The guy was buff, ridiculously good looking, and certainly knew his audience—I'd give my sister that much. “I’ll take this down right now. I've got a few things to rearrange in the truck, so I might be a few minutes.”
I wasn't sure if it was a good thing that they'd opted to not hire movers. It was certainly giving me more time with Amy, but it was also making it a horribly long and drawn-out process. There was a part of me that just wanted today to be over so I could start getting used to the new normal.
“The books are all packed up now. Do you think Luke can take the bookshelf down on his own?” I folded in the flaps of the cardboard box and sat back on my haunches.
“I’m not sure I want it anymore. It doesn't really go with the decor of his apartment.”
I tried very hard not to roll my eyes at the concept of Luke's second-floor walk-up in Brooklyn having decor. “You've had this bookshelf since we were kids. Grandpa and Dad made it for your room when you were born.”
“I know who built it, Katherine. Sometimes it's nice to get a fresh start, you know?”
I bunched up my lips and choked back a sigh. She was getting huffy because she was tired. Moving was a real test of everyone’s patience. “Okay. I'll hold on to it. I'm pretty sure you're going to change your mind anyway.”
Amy crossed her arms over her chest. “Did you seriously just say that to me? You're sure I'm going to change my mind?”
“It's a nice bookcase. And it's sentimental.” I got up from the floor and wiped the dust from my knees.
“Oh. You were talking about the bookcase?”
“What else would I be talking about?”
Amy looked away from me, staring out the window, blinking like crazy. The sun was setting, getting ready to duck behind the buildings across the street. The light made me second-guess what I was seeing—glistening, dewy teardrops.
“Ames, are you crying?” I walked over to her and put my arm around her shoulder. Amy never cried. She was tough as nails, tougher than me for sure.
“What if this is a mistake? What if things don't work out?” Her voice was croaky. “I love him, but we don't really know each other that well. Maybe this is moving too fast.”
Nowshe was asking these questions? At least I didn't feel so guilty for the torrent of doubts that coursed through my head that day at the diner. I pulled her into a hug. “First off, you love him and that's all that matters. I'm proud of you for taking this leap and listening to your heart.”
“Are you really proud? You're not mad?”
I rocked her back and forth, our cheeks pressed against each other. Amy was two inches or so shorter than me, so I had to stoop a bit. “I’m not mad. I could never be mad at you. You know that.” There were a lot of other things attempting to run out of my mouth, but I had to hold it all in. The minute I started confessing my own unease and sadness, it would be hard to make it stop. And it would be even harder to take it back. “I love you and I'm happy that you're happy. Luke is amazing. You'd be crazy not to want to be with him. You guys will do great. I know it.”
“I wish I knew for sure. I wish I didn't question every damn thing. It's not a good way to live.”
Welcome to my world.“It's okay to question things. The important part is that you didn't let it paralyze you. You're taking the leap. That's the way to live your life.” Maybe that was what I needed to do. Take more leaps. Stop shuffling through everything. “Just focus on the wedding and you'll do great. It'll be an amazing day. And you know you love it when you're the center of attention.”
“Yeah. I do like that.” She laughed quietly. “It'll be nice to see Dad for a happy family occasion. It's been a long time since we've had one of those.”
“Everything okay?” Luke asked. “I can come back if you need me to.”
Amy wrenched herself from my embrace. She wiped away a tear with the back of her hand. “No. I'm fine. Just sister talk.”
The concern that crossed his face was so warm and genuine I had to wonder how the guy had managed to stay single for so long. “Tell you what. It's been a long day,” he said. “How about I run down to the Thai place across the street and get us all some dinner?”
