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“Roses,” I correct her, like I always do. “You coming in?”
Trudging up the steps, I get my keys out and she follows me. The security gate on the front door is probably pointless but it does look pretty. Questions for her tumble in my mind as I key open the gate, and then the front door. Why is she here? Is she okay? Am I okay? Is Mom okay? Is somebody else okay? Or not okay?
But we have played this game before. If I ask a question, she will not answer it. I’m supposed to wait for her to come around to tell me whatever she wants to tell me, whenever she is ready. I’m not supposed to push her, I have repeatedly been told.
“Hey, make yourself at home,” I sigh as I drop my purse and briefcase under the hallway table and kick off my shoes. “I’m just going to go get changed real quick.”
“Sure,” she says vaguely as she wanders into the living room, her head tipped back so she can look the place over.
When I come back to the living room, I’m surprised but pleased to find that she’s made tea for us. She sits in the corner of the sofa, her ankles tucked under her bottom with a steaming mug between her cupped hands.
“Perfect,” I sigh happily as I pick up the other mug and deposit myself on the other corner of the sofa.
We sit there in silence until I realize I’m about to doze off. Just in time, she draws breath to say something and I am immediately alert again.
“Think I could stay here for a few days?” she asks in a way that sounds like she practiced it a few times.
“A few days?” I reply innocently.
She wrinkles her nose and twists her mouth to the side. When she stares up at the ceiling again, I notice that her fingernails are short, bitten down. Her index finger is pink where the cuticle tore some days ago, by the looks of it.
“My roommate is annoying,” she explains fussily. “No big deal. I just thought a little me time would be good.”
“Stay as long as you like,” I smile, careful not to appear judgmental or prying.
“Okay, thanks,” she replies mildly.
It’s like there are two extra people in the room with us, saying the things that we are not saying out loud. There is an invisible Landry filling me in on the details. I know the roommate is a boyfriend. I am almost positive. I don’t know his name, but that’s because she never saw fit to tell me.
And there is an invisible Clarissa, pouting because my single-lady lifestyle is being encroached. Then there is another invisible Clarissa, scolding the first invisible Clarissa for being so selfish. Landry needs help. Why am I being petty?
Okay, this is crazy. Totally bonkers.
“I’m glad to have you here,” I announce, as much to her as to myself.
Then I get up and go to the linen closet, returning shortly with a blanket, sheets, and a pillow.
“Thanks, sis,” she smiles awkwardly as she takes the linens from me. “Just a few days.”
Out of habit, I lean forward automatically and press my lips to her forehead just like I used to do when she was eight or nine. It means hello. It means good night. It’s also a good way to check if she has a fever.
To my surprise, though, she leans into it, too. She used to lean away, sometimes almost flinch. Nice to see that she accepts it.
“Okay, good night, then.”
“Good night,” she murmurs.
My legs feel heavy as I trudge up the stairs to my bedroom, falling across the coverlet like I’m drunk. I’m not drunk, just really tired. Wrapping my arm around the oversized pillow, I pull it close to me and somehow the thought creeps into my head that it’s nice, having this shape against my body. Nice to have something to hold onto.
My mind wanders to times I’ve had that—had a warm body next to me, like a buoy to rock with on calm waters. Someone to breathe next to. Someone t
o inhale.
It was nice, the way Maxwell guided the conversation and dinner tonight. Really, it was nice to let go and let someone else take the reins for just a moment. No pressure, just someone to be quiet with and…
Hold on, what am I thinking about?
All right. This is stupid.
