I’d been making a list of people to call and tell the news about Emma to. I wasn’t sure how soon after something like this occurred you were supposed to notify everyone, but I figured they would all be able to understand my need to have a day or two to mourn my sister without mentioning anything to them. Today was day two without her, and I was finally ready to get this part over with. So far my list consisted of eleven people. Six were family, and the rest were her closest friends or family friends I knew would want to hear the news from me.
The scent of butter and garlic hit my nose, and my stomach rolled with hunger. While my mind might not understand the need for food, my stomach did. I propped my head up with my hand and focused on the notebook in front of me again. Unable to think of anyone else to add, I turned the page and added plastic cups to my list of stuff needed for the Wake. The sound of the front door opening startled me. I glanced toward the living room, knowing exactly who it would be. I hadn’t seen him since we both broke down on the bench the other morning, but I expected him to come back at some point.
Dawson walked into the kitchen, his arms weighed down by grocery bags. He didn’t look at me or Sadie as he crossed the room and set the bags down on the counter. I watched him, took notice to the heavy inhale he took before he turned around to face me. The scruff along his chin and cheeks was something I had never seen before. It made him appear rugged and handsome, until you looked closer. Mixed with the dark circles beneath his eyes and his ruffled hair, Dawson looked like a mad man. Someone on the verge of breaking.
“There’s still more in my truck. I’ll be right back.” His voice was low and hollow. It was unfamiliar, and caused worry to stab through me. It also forced me to realize I wasn’t the only one who had lost someone they loved.
“What is all this?” Sadie stepped to the bags after Dawson left the room, and rummaged through them. “Napkins, cups, decorations.”
I set the pen I had been holding down, and pushed myself away from the little corner table in our kitchen. “It’s stuff for the Wake.” Suspicion crept through me. How he had known what all I would need?
“I hope this is the right size. She didn’t specify.” Dawson walked into the kitchen with a large board clasp in his hands. When he flipped it around for me to see, my knees nearly buckled.
It was a picture of Emma. One I had taken two years ago. It was my favorite of her. Seeing it brought back the memories from when it was taken. Emma, Mom and I had all gone zip lining together. It was about six months before Alzheimer’s gripped Mom in a vice.
My eyes focused on the burnt orange and red leaves behind Emma. It had been chilly that day, sometime in the middle of fall. I was home for the weekend because Emma had asked me to come more than once. In retrospect, I realized now that it was probably because she and Mom both knew it wouldn’t be long before the disease took over. More than likely, the trip there had been a way for us to create good memories together before the disease tarnished any we had of her.
“Was that when you came down and zip lined with your mom and her?” Sadie asked. To this day, she still couldn’t believe that was something I’d done for fun. She was deathly afraid of heights.
“Yeah.” My lips twisted into a small smile as I continued to stare at the picture. That had been such a good day. “Right before we placed our keys and cell phones into a box the instructor was passing around, so we wouldn’t lose anything on the course, I told Emma to look at me, and then snapped a few pictures of her. This ended up being one of my favorites.” I stared at her. The picture was the epitome of my sister. Her hair was pulled into a messy bun on top of her head, her hands were on her hips, and her lips had turned upward into the ghost of a smile. I’d even caught her mid-eye roll.
“The original was in my envelope.” Dawson moved to lean the picture against the cabinets. “She wanted me to blow it up for the Wake. She said it was the one picture of her she knew would be guaranteed to make you smile. Guess she was right.”
My smile wavered. I swallowed hard, unable to rip my eyes from the picture. God, Emma always did know me so well. My throat grew tight as tears pricked my eyes. Irritation surged through me, because I didn’t want to cry anymore. I couldn’t.
If Emma had known me so damn well, then she would have known how hard I would take this. She would have thought twice before taking all those sleeping pills. She would still be here. Anger swelled within me.
“In your envelope?” Sadie asked. “What envelope?” I could feel her eyes as they bored into me.
“She left us each an envelope. Right beside her bed,” I answered.
“Have you opened yours?” I could hear the wonder in her voice. She was curious to know what mine had said. Which meant she wouldn’t understand my reasoning for not opening it.
“No.” The word was flat and hollow as it rolled out of my mouth.
“Why?” It wasn’t Sadie who asked the question, it was Dawson. “How could you not care to read her final words?” His tone wasn’t harsh, but there were tendrils of something similar lacing through his words.
“Because they weren’t her final words,” I snapped. “They were her excuse for why she left me. Us. For why she took the easy way out.” My heart was beating far too fast. I was getting worked up.
“It wasn’t the easy way out for her; it was the only way she knew how to end the pain she was in!” Dawson’s voice boomed through my kitchen. There was no denying the harshness etched in his words now. My gaze jumped to him. The sight of him so angry with me was jarring. I stared at him, watching as his nostrils flared and his jaw clenched and unclenched. It was clear he was feeling a magnitude of things. And then, in an instant, everything evaporated from his face, and his muscles grew slack. “It was the only way she knew how to end it peacefully.” His words were too soft. They reflected something in them I didn’t share—forgiveness. He seemed to be so damn accepting of the entire thing. It was almost as though he thought she had done something admirable, like she was the stronger one for having the courage to end it all the way she did.
“You really should read it, Charlotte,” Sadie chimed in, forcing the thoughts clouding my mind to clear. “She wrote it for a reason. Obviously, she had something to say to you.”
I closed my eyes and exhaled a deep breath. When I stood, I stalked past them both and straight out the back door.
What was so hard to grasp about me not wanting to read the letter? I might eventually. I mean, I hadn’t thrown it away. I just couldn’t bear to read it. Not right now. Everything was too fresh.
My bare feet moved through the grass in the backyard. It had grown taller over the last few weeks, to the point of brushing my ankles. I toyed with the idea of letting it continue to grow until it swallowed the house. Every good memory I ever had there had been tarnished by what my sister had done.
When I reached the bench near the fire pit, I paused, debating on having a seat and catching my breath, but I didn’t want Sadie or Dawson staring at me through the kitchen window, so I continued past it and into the woods. Sharp bits of sticks and brush stabbed into the bottoms of my feet as I left the soft grass behind. The thought to go back for a pair of shoes never crossed my mind though. I was in a haze, one that pressed me against my breaking point. Once I made it to the fallen tree where Dawson and I had found Mom that one time, I sat.
I pulled the sleeves to my sweater over my hands and wrapped my arms around my middle. My eyes closed. The sounds of the woods floated to my ears, and I took in a deep breath. As I exhaled it, I heard footsteps of someone tromping through the woods close by. It had to be Dawson. He was the only person I had ever met who couldn’t walk quietly if his life depended on it.