April 6, 2012
when I thought for a moment that things would be different, and then they weren't
She said, "I am going to make sure that doesn't happen anymore."
"Okay," I said.
I went into my room and sat on the bottom bunk; my brother's bed. I looked at the wallpaper and decided I would be glad to be rid of it. The walls at my grandparents' house were clean and white. It was not a huge house; I would still have to share a room. But the walls would be white. I scuffed my toes against the carpet, waiting. Maybe she was packing her own things first.
When I went to look for her, she wasn't in their room. She wasn't in the laundry room either. I heard water in the sink, a pan on the stove. I walked down the hall, slowly, slowly. She was in the kitchen, making dinner, and she had put her makeup on.
There was no suitcase out, no duffel bag packed.
"Do you want to watch TV?" she asked me.
"No," I said.
I went back to my room and shut the door.