“Itis. I mean, Devin knows. That year after Dad died, I could barely get out ofbed unless he was there, dragging me by my ankles. Right, Dev?”
Clearingmy throat, I turned from the window to face her and nodded. “Yeah, I remember.”How could I forget?
“Iwas drowning in that house,” she told him, and I watched her relive that darkyear as her eyes shadowed with the memories. “I still feel terrible foreverything that happened with my mom, but Ihadto get out of there, orelse it would’ve killed me. And it took getting away, to realize thatall ofthose things, arejustthings. I mean, I adorehis old stuff, like the Coca-Cola glasses he used to love, and his Stephen Kingbooks, but …” She shook her head and sighed. “My dad’s not in that house. Thememories I have of him aren’t contained in there. I took them with me and I cantell you right now, getting out of there was the best thing I could’ve done formyself.”
Billyturned to glance at her, smirking. “So, what you’re saying is, I should do whatthey’re telling me and get out of my house?”
“No,”Kylie smiled. “I think you should be allowed to make your own decisions—you’rean adult after all. But, what Iamsaying is, it’s just a house,” shesaid quietly, “and you take your memories with you.”
?
Whenmy parents returned to the room, Billy agreed to go into a nursing home. Hedidn’t tell them why he’d changed his mind, and he never promised to not be apain in the ass during the move, but he agreed nonetheless.
Kylieleft the hospital before I did, and when I got home, I found her sleeping onthe couch with Eddie curled up in the crook of her arm. The book she wasreading, a collection ofO’Henry’swork, was laid outover her lap, and I smiled as I grabbed the blanket she kept on the couch. Ilaid it over her and stood there for a moment, watching her sleep.
Ithought about my grandfather and what he’d said. That his house stopped being ahome when my grandmother passed on, and I wondered if I’d ever be able to leavethis apartment, after knowing what it was like to live with her.
Howcould anywhere feel like a home after that?
PART TWO
Thouwastthat all to me, love,
For which my soul didpine—
A green isle in the sea,love,
A fountain and a shrine,
All wreathed with fairy fruitsand flowers,
And all the flowers weremine.
-Edgar Allan Poe, “To Onein Paradise”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Present Day
Kylie
It wasn’tmeatloaf.
Itcouldhave been roast beef, or pot roast, but meatloaf?There wasn’t a planet in the universe where that thing was considered ameatloaf.
I didn’t say anything though, not when Devin was grinning so hard,my face was having sympathy pains. I let him have his little swoon-fest overthe so-called meatloaf his current girlfriend, Britney, had brought over fordinner, and I tried to focus my energy on Nate. His heated thigh pressing intomine and the whistling of his deviated septum.
But really, it wasn’t meatloaf, and I wish she’d stop saying itwas.
“I hope you like it,” Britney said, carefully putting the platterdown in the center of the table. It was thinly sliced, a few shreds of beefhaphazardly laying on the stark white of the plate.
“It looks great, babe,” Dev said with an encouraging nod. Irefused to believe heactuallybelievedthat,but he said it. To get laid, I assumed, but Devin had no problem getting laid.He had nothing to worry about, so there was no reason to lie about the meatloafthat wasn’t meatloaf.
“You think?” she asked, biting her lip. “I’ve never made ameatloaf before. I followed a recipe from Beef Baby’s website, because I knowhow much you love beef.”
“Oh, Dev sure does like his meat,” I chimed. “He enjoys it everysingle day.”
“Thank you, Kylie,” he said through clenched teeth.
