Page 154 of Before We Break

“Fuck you. You try eating with one good arm.”

Jonah wipes his mouth and heads for the counter, returning with a knife and fork. He takes my plate and cuts my sandwich into bite-sized pieces like I’m a goddamn toddler, and I can’t even complain because the alternative is to let him feed it to me.

“What are you doing after this?” Emma asks, not looking up from her phone long enough to notice the spectacle.

I swallow down the bite of my sandwich that made it all the way into my mouth this time. “Killing time until we have to pick up Auggie from preschool.”

“There’s an open house until five.”

“The house?” Jonah asks.

“Mhm. Kinda feels kismet, don’t you think?”

Emma’s as superstitious as they come. She believes in astrology and fate more than anyone I know, and when she gets an idea in her head, it’s best to go along for the ride.

“I guess we’re going to an open house.”

Emma gestures across the room at Karen, who’s holding a platter of fresh-baked cookies and conversing with a potential buyer. The woman waves a dismissive hand, and Karen sets the plate on the dining room table.

“Is it too late for plan A?” Emma whispers. “Digging up the time capsule under cover of darkness doesn’t sound like such a bad idea now that we’re standing in the same room with her.”

“It’ll be fine. She’s all bark and no bite.”

She eyes me skeptically. “Are you sure? That’s not what I heard. Even Teddy is a little scared of her.”

“Tedward is scared of his own shadow.”

Jonah snorts, and Emma backhands him across the chest.

He strides into the living room like his feet are made of lead and scans from one side to the other, stopping to stare out the picture window to the front yard. “It’s not what I expected.”

He’s not wrong. I felt more connected to the house when I stood outside it for the first time all those months ago. The inside doesn’t give me the same sentimental feeling I expected.

Each room is staged with boring modern furniture; the walls that were once covered in a gaudy floral wallpaper have been painted greige, and of the character has been sucked out of the home by the previous owners. I’m well aware of how hypocritical I must come off considering how much I criticized Clio’s apartment, but for all of her quirkiness, at least her place has warmth. It always felt like a home.

Now it’s just a box that used to hold all of my best childhood memories. If I do end up buying the place, it’s going to need a lot of work.

“I don’t like the energy in here,” Emma says. “It needs to be saged immediately.”

We follow her past the kitchen, down a narrow corridor to the side of the house, taking the two small steps down into the sun room. She stops in the corner where our Mom’s favorite wicker chair used to be, and her posture deflates.

Jonah wraps his arm around her and rubs her shoulder. “You ok, squirt?”

I expect her to balk at the use of her childhood nickname, but she doesn’t even flinch. She just lowers her face to the floor and sighs. “I was hoping I’d be able to feel her here.”

I’m having the opposite problem. For me, it’s like she’s still here, only she’s trapped in my memories, stuck forever as the effervescent woman she was before hardship broke our family. She used to sit in this room and wait for the school bus to pull up in front of the house. She always had an afternoon snack prepared, and she’d ask how our day was.

“Peanut butter on crackers,” I mutter.

A smile tugs at the corner of Jonah’s lips. “And a glass of chocolate milk made with that powdered shit.”

“Bunny milk.” Emma swipes at an errant tear, acting like it was never there.

It’s hard to reconcile the happy times with how it ended, and I’ve long since stopped trying to make it make sense. Emma doesn’t have as many of those memories to fall back on. Maybe that’s why being here seems to be hitting her harder.

“All three Westons.” Karen’s mild voice carries from the top of the stairs, lacking its usual hostility. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

I don’t bother beating around the bush. “How many offers have you had?”