Chapter 4 - The Box in the Doorway
Six years passed. The girls grew up around the absence. One started college. Another learned to drive. And Naomi became the one who finally said what everyone else had clearly been thinking for years.
"Mom, we need to go through their things."
I looked at her. She stood in the doorway of her brothers' room holding an empty cardboard box.
"No."
"Mom—"
"I said no, Naomi."
"We're not throwing anything away. We're donating what somebody else could actually use."
I stared past her into that room. It wasn't a shrine. At least, I told myself it wasn't. But too many things had stayed exactly where they'd been left. Some stupid part of me had never stopped listening for footsteps in the hall.
She lowered her voice. "They're not coming back for these, Mom."
That hurt. She knew it would — her eyes filled immediately. "I'm sorry."
May you like
I looked away. Then reached for another box. "Fine."
We started packing, but I made an excuse about dinner and left the room. I couldn't stay in there any longer.
