“Are you cold, Jas?”
I shrug, not caring if I’m cold. I’m too busy imagining all the horrible things that could have happened to my brother.
He told me he would be leaving the army soon. Of course, he always said that. And every time I wanted to believe him.
We all hated that he deployed, it seemed that the statistics were no longer in his favor. As if he had gotten rid of it too many times. Like he was too happy and goofy, and the universe would take it away from him at some point.
I hear Sloane climbing through the window of his guest room. The room right next to the one I spent my adolescence.
I’m about to tell him I want to be alone, but when he wraps a blanket around my shoulders and lies down next to me, snuggling against me, my body lets out a breath I didn’t even know I’d been holding. He presses against me, soft and comforting. Its sweet aroma reaches my nostrils. It smells like coconut and cupcake frosting.
Forcing myself to stare at the dark fields, I ignore his presence. Until I see an ugly cartoon basset hound shoved into my face.
-Baby. – It is not a question. That’s an order.
I shake my head, feeling more like my traumatized teenage self than I have in years.
-Come on. I’m dehydrated from crying in the shower. Please don’t make me drink alone. Beau wouldn’t approve.
I snort a laugh, but it’s followed by a hurt, whining sound. The sound of Sloane sobbing is the only answer. We don’t look at each other.
WWBD 1 – he says, nodding confidently.
-Sorry?
“What would Beau do?” We both know he would drink the beer.
I’m sure if I look at it I’ll collapse, so I open the stupid Buddyz Best Beer and take a long drink.
“This tastes like shit.”
She drinks and, from my periphery, I see her nod.
It coincides with the day. Shit is the theme.
I grunt my agreement.
“You’re not wrong.”
His shoulder bumps into mine, but he doesn’t move away. He tucks himself in closer, pulling the same patchwork quilt we used as children around us. And just like when we were younger, she doesn’t pressure me… Or try to get me to talk about my feelings like a therapist I never asked for.
It’s just there.
“Do you think he’s dead?” I blurt out, trying to hide my fear by drinking more beer. It’s the question that’s been on my mind for a couple of hours. The question I didn’t want to give voice to, but that jumps out at me anyway.
I glance at Sloane to see how she reacts to my dark question. But, as usual, he does not shy away from my darkness; After all, it’s my Sunny. She drives away the darkness simply by being herself.
“I think…” He rolls the can between his hands, creating a loud crinkling sound in the silent night. I don’t think that’s the kind of energy I want to put out into the universe for him right now. A strangled giggle reverberates through my chest and she jabs an elbow into my ribs. I’m serious! Do you go into a game thinking you’re going to lose? Or do you imagine winning? I obsessively go over a dance in my head before a performance, but I don’t allow myself to see a mistake or a stumble. And I’m going to treat this the same way.
She nods her head, with delicate features and a determined expression.
“If Beau is out there, he needs our good energy. It’s too much…” A hand rolls in front of her as she searches for the word. Don’t know. It is larger than life. He won’t give up without a fight. I have faith in him.
Unshed tears prick my eyes. Larger than life. He is like that. Decided. Relentless. That bastard doesn’t take no for an answer. And wherever I am, I hope not now either.
I lean toward Sloane and she rests her head on my shoulder. I don’t know how much time we spent sitting in pleasant silence, contemplating the landscape. There are no sounds other than the intermittent squawks of an owl, the puffs of air of a cow, and the quiet chirping of a horse.
“I love the moon on nights like this,” he murmurs. It makes everything look almost silver. It makes everything shine.
I lift my chin and look at the sky full of creamy white stars so dense it almost looks like a blanket. It reminds me of when we were in front of the grill and I couldn’t see a single star on a perfectly clear night.
After our discussion, I drove to Chestnut Springs and spent the night in one of the little houses I bought in town. I’m too screwed to go anywhere tonight, but there’s a part of me that doesn’t want to sleep in my childhood bed.
It feels like too much right now. It feels too real.
Sloane’s body lets out a loud sigh, and I wonder how she feels too after the shitty day she’s had.
“I’m sorry about Sterling,” I offer, unintentionally.
“Don’t lie to me, Jas.
A silent giggle leaves my lips.
-OK. I’m sorry about your wedding.
He sighs again, his petite shoulders rising and falling with fatigue.
-I don’t.
His abrupt response takes me by surprise.
-No?
“Nah.” Spending my life barefoot in the kitchen like Mrs. Woodcock sounds fucking terrible. I’d rather be barefoot in a dirty liquor store with you.
I want to laugh, but I’m overcome with jealousy. Followed by relief. Relief that he didn’t go down that path.
Relief that she is sitting here with me. Because no matter how much I rack my brain, I can’t think of anyone else I’d rather be with after this news.
I feel her shiver next to me and I turn to kiss the top of her head, but her hair is damp and cold.
“Your hair is wet.”
He shrugs.
-Yeah. I came straight here after taking a shower.
A pain hits me in the center of my chest and I shake my head, not wanting to give it more importance than it should. After all, he almost married someone today.
“Come on, Sunny. You’re going to freeze with wet hair out here. I stand up and reach out for her hand, small and cold in mine, as I pull her up. I press once and try to release it.
But I can not. I want her close. But I do not know how to do it.
But she doesn’t suffer the same confusion. Without thinking twice, he takes a step towards me. My arms go around her along with the thick blanket resting on her shoulders as her hands slide over my ribs. His forehead rests on my chest and I caress the back of his neck.
Maybe it’s our height difference. Maybe it’s just tradition. But I’ve always held her like this, and she’s always let me. There’s a comfort to it somehow. A familiarity.
“Will you be here in the morning?” This is what he has always asked me on bad nights. As if he wanted to make sure I wouldn’t sink too deep into my sadness. Until now he had not returned.
-Where would I be if not? is what I have always answered and I repeat it while my hand slides through his damp hair. Because I will be.
Because it is a bond that has never let go of me, not even when I have wanted it to. Before I joined the Eatons, I believed that no one would miss me if I left. But now I know that’s not true. They would do it. Sloane would do it. And that has always kept me grounded in a way I desperately needed as a grieving teenager.
He pulls away with a quiet huff and eyes downcast.
Good night, Jas. Knock on the door if you need me.
Good night, Sunny. I ruffle his hair and turn around.
We headed to our rooms. Just like when we were kids.
I duck through the window and curl up on the bed. Then the insistent pressure on my chest breaks and the tears come.
Just like when I was a kid.
The difference is that I wish Sloane was still pressed against me, and I never did then.