Page 112 of Gather the Storm

She grinned. “I might surprise you yet. Come in! I can make tea.”

“I don’t have long unfortunately,” I said. “I’m on my lunch break and I have to grab something from upstairs.”

“Too bad,” she said, closing the door behind us.

“You should come by the house,” I said. “If you don’t think it’ll get you in trouble with my dad, I mean.”

She scoffed. “What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him. How’s the internship?”

It was a loaded question so I went with the simplest answer. “It’s good.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” she said. “We miss you. You’re the only one who can beat Lenny at gin. We’re teaching Ruth, hoping she can take up the mantle. That girl is crazy.”

“Crazy like a fox.”

She shook her head. “Don’t I know it.”

I gestured to the grand staircase at the front of the house. “Do you mind if I…?”

She frowned. “I don’t give two shits what your dad says, this is your house. You can come anytime, as far as I’m concerned. Just let us know so we can clear the way.”

I hugged her. “You’re the best, Joan. Thank you.”

I hurried up the stairs, feeling like a thief in the house I’d gown up in. Maybe I should have confronted my dad after Calvin came to the house to make it clear I was out for the foreseeable future, should have tried to clear the air. But honestly? I’d had my hands full.

I stopped onto the second-floor landing and started down the hallway to my right. The other hall — the one that extended to the left — was all guest rooms. This was the family wing.

My dad’s suite was at the end of the hall and around the corner, in a more private section of the house, but Blake, Ruth, and I all had rooms off the main hall. I passed the large room we’d used as a rec room. It was the room where we’d watched TV when our parents were having dinner parties, the room where Blake, Ruth, and I had played with our dog Buster, the only pet we’d ever had. It was where we’d done homework and played video games, where we’d hung out before Blake got too cool to hang with us, and okay, before I got too cool to hang out with Ruth.

Looking back, I felt bad about that last part, but what could I say? It was the circle of (sibling) life.

I could almost hear the laughter coming from the rec room, the sound of Blake playing one of his games (even when we played together, he always got to choose the game), Ruth annoying the shit out of him with the karaoke machine.

It was the sound of my childhood and I suddenly wanted it all back. Somewhere in all those days we’d spent together was the last day, the time after which we would never all hang out together — be together — that way again. I wanted someone to tell me:this is the last day, this will never happen again.

I wanted someone to tell me so I could notice it, so I could memorize the details.

So I could say goodbye.

My chest felt heavy as I approached Blake’s closed door. I hadn’t been inside since just after he’d died. It had hurt too much and I’d avoided the door like the plague. As far as I knew, Ruth did the same, although every now and then I’d hear my dad go in there.

He never talked about it, never talked about Blake, but I guess he went in there to be close to his only son.

Now I put my hand on the knob and hesitated, then opened the door and stepped inside the room that had belonged to my brother for almost eighteen years.

The curtains were drawn, the room resting in a gloomy half-light, and I took a second to let my eyes adjust. I didn’t like being here for the purpose of searching Blake’s room — it felt intrusive and wrong — and that made me not want to turn on the light, like Blake wasn’t really dead but just down the hall, like the light might give me away.

Or maybe I just didn’t want to see everything clearly: the swimming trophies that lined his shelves and the basketball in the corner and an old Lego set he’d never dismantled and even his laptop, still sitting closed on his desk.

After a minute or two, I moved into the room and started looking, beginning with his dresser.

It was weird to see all his clothes — sweats and jeans and hoodies that I recognized, that I remembered. I lifted one of the hoodies to my nose and breathed in, then felt the prickle of tears in my eyes when I got a whiff of the body spray he used to use. It had been ubiquitous with the guys his age, but I’d never gotten close enough to any of the other guys to associate the smell with anyone other than Blake.

I closed the drawer and put the sweatshirt in my bag. I hadn’t thought to keep something of Blake’s right after he’d died. Between the murder accusation and the eventual confession of the Beasts, life had been too chaotic.

But now I wanted something of my brother’s, something to take with me other than our childhood memories.

I searched his closet, checked the time, and realized I was going to have to hurry to get back to Cantwell before my lunch break ended. Then I looked around, trying to think about where I’d be if I were Blake’s cell phone.

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