I answered too quickly.
“You got them.”
She nodded as though I had struck her.
We apologized later.
Then we kept going.
I returned to my classes in person.
I went out with friends without checking the time every twenty minutes.
I hired someone to repair the porch because Grandpa was no longer there to insist he could manage it with a screwdriver and unreasonable confidence.
We kept his workshop.
We didn’t keep his bedroom untouched.
That was my decision.
In January, I opened the curtains and let winter sunlight fall across the dark furniture.
Chloe stood in the doorway.
“I can help clean.”
I ran my hand over the dresser.
“You said this wood was depressing.”
Her face reddened.
“I was trying to sound like Mom.”
“I know.”
It wasn’t an absolution.
Just something I understood.
We cleaned for most of the afternoon.
Inside a dresser drawer, beneath an old sweater, I found a yellow rain boot.
