My fingers curl around the sink, gripping the porcelain as I heave out a long breath and look away.
And when I finally turn to open the door, she is there.
The woman in the window—the one who visited me, claiming to be Syd. She is here in my brother’s house… well,myhouse, I suppose. She is standing right in front of me with wide, sapphire eyes hidden behind dark-rimmed spectacles. With her nose like a button and her full lips, she parts those lips to speak to me:
“Hi.”
A frown unfurls between my brows as I glance at the stack of clothing clutched within her arms. Her hair spills over both shoulders in streams of white-gold, and she tilts her head to one side, analyzing me. Either with confusion or concern; I am uncertain. Both would be acceptable.
My voice evades me, and I remain silent.
“My dad left some boxes of old clothes in the attic. I think he’s about your size. They might fit better than Gabe’s… until you can purchase your own,” she tells me, her teeth gnashing her bottom lip as she holds out the pile of button-down shirts and an assortment of slacks.
Before I can respond in some way, Gabe saunters over from the living room with a yawn, scratching his tousled hair.
“Don’t you knock?”
His words sound crass as he addresses Sydney, but his eyes are soft, his grin brightening. She doesn’t seem to be put off by his blunt query.
“Only as often as you do, which is never,” she quips, her eyes flicking to Gabe, then back to me. “I was just dropping off some clothes for Oliver.”
They seem to have a rapport—a friendship. I wonder what that’s like. I look down at my feet with a stiff jaw, unsure of what to say.
Gabe steps in and reaches for the clothes, nodding his thanks. “Nice. We’ll have to run out and grab some new things. Do you think Oliver is more of an Aeropostale kind of a guy, or something classier like Express?”
My eyes dart between them, trying to find a place for these unfamiliar words in my cluttered mind. I cannot pinpoint them.
Sydney seems to know this already. “We can find out what he likes, but these should do for now.”
She smiles at me, and there’s something warm and inviting about the expression. It’s a little lopsided and framed with dimples.Endearing. I catch myself staring at her mouth, causing her to clear her throat and turn her head back to Gabe.
“Well, I can—”
Her words are cut short when I walk away.
Sydney stops mid-sentence, and I can sense both of their eyes trained on my back as I wander down the hallway and into the bedroom. I feel out of sorts standing between these two people—two people I was supposed to grow up with—unable to contribute anything of value to their conversation. I can’t handle their pitying stares and awkward responses to my silence.
Instead, I pull away and confine myself to the solitude I’ve grown accustomed to, carrying my feet towards the bed adorned in navy blue blankets and two pillows. It squeaks when I sit.
I’m uncertain if I’ll enjoy this new way of sleeping and contemplate pulling the blankets to the floor beside the bed, pretending I’m back in that basement, curled up on the hard ground.
I anticipate doing that very thing when tentative feet creak into the room and she makes her presence known.
A light cough infiltrates the silence. “Hi, Oliver. Can I come in?”
My entire body tenses at the prospect of more human interaction. I fist the bed covers, my eyes darting up to Sydney, who is standing in the doorway.
She doesn’t wait for my reply and steps forward, approaching me on the bed, and I watch as she takes a seat to my left, her body heat emanating into me. My instincts are to look away, but I find myself soaking up her every move, intrigued and curious about this woman. I absorb each blink, twitch, and wayward expression. I observe the way her legs swing back and forth against the side of the bed in opposite time as she swipes her hands along her thighs. Our eyes meet.
And then I see her.
I can envision her sunny pigtails bouncing as she skips rope in the front lawn. I hear her laughter intermingle with the midsummer breeze.
“Last one to the park is a rotten egg!”
My throat tightens.
Sydney holds my gaze, something passing between us, something akin to the exchange through the tall window yesterday.