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I grab our food, and Jolie takes the two water bottles that come with it. We begin walking towards the seating area, but then Jolie gasps, bringing us both to a stop.
“Do you see what I see?” she excitedly asks.
I follow where her eyes are looking and start laughing. “Let me guess.”
She rushes towards another of the food trucks, and before I even catch up to her, she turns around, orange cream popsicle in hand. I shake my head and chuckle as I hold out my free hand to take one of the water bottles she’s holding so she can unwrap her popsicle. Just to distract myself from watching her first lick, I begin walking towards the seating area. I'm ready to sit on the outskirts, but Jolie begins walking to the very center, so I end up following her. Once we're seated, I unwrap my food as Jolie finishes off her popsicle. Then she picks up one half of her sandwich, and holds it up. I furrow my brows in confusion.
"We have to do a little cheers to us," she insists. "For making it through the haunted house."
Smiling, I tap my sandwich against hers. She takes a bite and does a little dance in her seat. I can't help but laugh at it.
She joins in with my laughter. "Okay, so you have just witnessed what Callie called my first bite wiggle".
"It's interesting. Your sister named it very appropriately."
And then I see it. I see it hit her and know exactly what made her stop smiling. Exactly what made her pause in this moment, her eyes casting down, but not before I see the guilt that enters them.
"You feel bad," I say. "For smiling and laughing, for being happy, when she can't do any of those things anymore."
Her head snaps up, her eyes meeting mine, pain mixing with the shock of being understood. I see her throat move with her swallow before she nods.
"So many times. And then I get mad that I feel guilty. That the moment is gone from me now because I stopped to realize Callie isn't around anymore to share in my smiles and laughs."
"I know. This weird mix of emotions rushes through you in under a minute, and then you're left not knowing how to feel. Guilty, angry, sad, wondering if it'll ever go away."
"No, my anger usually just deepens when I think about why me enjoying things makes me feel so guilty." At my confused look, she puts her sandwich down and leans back in her seat before continuing. "In my sister's suicide note, she told me to promise to live for her, that I'd live a life worth living. Every time I find myself being happy, I feel like I'm fulfilling a promise to a sister who couldn't fulfill her promises to me. And it's not fair."
I don't even have to ask what promises her sister made to her. Because I know they’re the same ones Ben made to me. To fight, to try, to come to me when the demons became too much, to let me help him when he felt the world was too dark. And he didn't fulfill his promises. And I guess, in the end, neither did I.
She continues, "It feels like she left this unwanted burden on my shoulders. Like my every smile is keeping a promise I never wanted to make. I think of her note, her words, and it shatters it, the moment of joy."
"That's fucked up," I blurt, then worry she'll be offended. But she just nods. "That's a lot to put on someone else. To make them promise that to you, when they're not in a position to refuse you especially."
"Tell me about it," she all but whispers.
I kick myself for not following my grandma's advice now, for not keeping Ben, and Callie, out of our date. Now I have no idea what to say to make the sadness in her voice and eyes go away.
"Do you feel...the same?" she asks after a too long silence.
"Not in the same way you do. There was no promise asked of me, but I just..." I take a moment to find the right words. "I feel like it's wrong to feel so alive when he's dead. To laugh and smile when he can't. Even when he was here, it was hard for me to enjoy anything when I knew the types of battles he was facing. I would feel guilty for not being there with him, helping him. And now, it feels much the same, like it's a betrayal to be happy, to not think of him all the time, to not be mourning him as much as possible."
She inhales and lets out a deep breath. "You can't even know how good it feels to be able to talk about this, to have someone understand."
I chuckle. "Yeah, I think I do know."
She gives me a small smile. "Well, yeah."
"My grandma told me to leave Ben at home tonight."
She sits up straight, leaning forward and picking up her sandwich again. "Well then we had better follow grandma's orders. I don't want her to have a reason to slap me."
"I have honestly seen my grandma slap someone before."
Her eyes widen. "Tell me every single detail about it."
Her smile is back. I admire, and envy it a little, how easy it seems for her to switch between emotions. I wish I could do the same. But...then I realize, it's easy to do that with Jolie. She makes me want to forget, to not feel the guilt, to smile and laugh, and mean it. And after six months of feeling like I've been drowning under my grief, being with her is refreshing.
"There was this kindergarten teacher who everyone, even the students who'd never had her, hated," I begin.
