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I drop Milo off just as the sun is setting. His house looks the same as it did years ago, with chipped white paneling and a scratched roof, his childhood bike tied to the front porch.
He shuts the truck door and leans against it, ducking his head to peer through the open window. Shadows coat his face. I can’t tell what he’s thinking.
For one moment, he seems like he’s about to speak and we stay teetering on the precipice of something I can’t define. Down the street, a car horn blasts, and the moment disappears. Milo shakes his head and steps back. He gives me a two-fingered salute before he walks away.
I sit there and watch him enter his house, my chest aching. The soft glow of dying sunlight illuminates my side of the pickup and warms my face. My phone buzzes. It’s Elsie, asking where I am.
Groaning, I lean my head against the hot glass. All I can think is that I’ve done this to myself.
When Milo asked what this was, I brushed him off. I ran away instead of telling him the truth; that I think about him more than I think about myself. That I want to hold his hand again, to watch him do his stupid yoga routines, listen to him rant about birds and fantasy novels, and everything in between.
I never told him that I’m lost without him. And now it’s too late.
*
The Divorce Dinner—Elsie’s name for it—goes about as well as it can. Even though it was expected, hearing them announce the divorce out loud still hurts. But we get through it together, as a family. Dad cracks a few jokes, Mom pretends she’s not smiling at them, and we all survive unscathed.
After dinner I take the plates to the kitchen, Elsie trailing behind me. This routine is easy, familiar. She washes and I dry. I could do it with my eyes closed.
Except my hands are shaking so much I almost smash one of Mom’s prized wine glasses when transferring it from the sink to the dish rack. Elsie gently pries it out of my hands and sets it down, giving me a look. Her normally wild curls are tamed into a sleek bob, and she’s traded her ever-present running gear for a simple top and jeans.
“You look like shit,” she says.
“Thanks. I feel like shit, too.”
“Did something happen with Milo?”
“I—How’d you know?”
She gestures to my hair, which I’ve been tugging on and ruffling nervously all evening. It hangs wildly around my face, like I’ve just woken up.
“Contrary to popular belief, sometimes sisters care about their little brothers,” she says, frowning. “Seriously, I’m all ears, kiddo. I thought you guys were attached at the hip.”
I collapse against the kitchen counters. “We were until I ruined it. I haven’t spoken to him since we got home a day ago.”
“That’s pretty long for you two.”
I make an indistinct noise and Elsie scoots closer, throwing an arm around my shoulder. Even though she’s older, she’s a little shorter than me, and I have to lean down so she isn’t on her tiptoes. It’s comforting, nonetheless.
“Tell me what happened,” she says.
Licking my lips, I stumble through an explanation of everything that happened at the motel, careful to skip over the sex.
“And then I told him we can’t be together,” I finish lamely.
“What did Milo say?”
“Not much. I guess I didn’t give him much space to say anything.” I wince at the look on her face. “Trust me, it was the right thing to do.”
“I love you, kiddo, but sometimes you’re hopeless.”
“I didn’t want to lose him!”
Elsie sighs and looks upwards as if seeking strength. “Okay, I have just one question. Do you like him?”
“No. I mean, kind of.” Working my jaw, I stare at the chipped kitchen tiles. “I’ve had feelings for him for years but—”
“That’s good then, isn’t it? Don’t look at me like that, you know I’m right. You’ve been obsessed with him since he moved here. What are you so scared of?”
