Between Sisters

A lifetime ago.

He stared at his former in-laws’ house. It looked exactly as it had on another June day, so long ago, when Joe and Di had gotten married in the backyard, surrounded by family and friends.

He almost gave in to panic, almost turned away.

But running away didn’t help. He’d tried that route, and it had brought him back here, to this house, to these people whom he’d once loved so keenly, to say—

I’m sorry.

Just that.

He walked up the intricately patterned brick path, toward the white-pillared house that Mrs. Roloff had designed to look like Tara. There were roses and sculpted hedges on both sides of him, their scents a cloying sweetness. On either side of the front door stood a cast-iron lion.

Joe didn’t let himself pause or think. He reached out and rang the bell.

A few moments later, the door opened. Henry Roloff stood there, pipe in hand, dressed in khaki pants and a navy turtleneck. “Can I—” At the sight of Joe, his smile fell. “Joey,” he said, his pipe aflutter now in a trembling hand. “We’d heard you were back in town. ”

Joe tried like hell to smile.

“Who is it?” Tina called out from somewhere inside the house.

“You won’t believe it,” Henry said, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Henry?” she yelled again. “Who is it?”

Henry stepped back. A watery smile spilled across his face, wrinkled his cheeks. “He’s home, Mother,” he yelled. Then, softly, he said it again, his eyes filling with tears. “He’s home. ”

“Are you sure this is tequila? It tastes like lighter fluid. ” Meghann heard the sloppy slur in her voice. She was past tipsy now, barreling toward plastered, and it felt good.

“It’s expensive tequila. Only the best for my friend. ” Elizabeth leaned sideways for a piece of pizza. As she pulled it toward her, the cheese and topping slid off, landing in a gooey heap on the concrete deck. “Oops. ”

“Don’t worry ’bout it. ” Meghann scooped up the mess and threw it overboard. “Pro’ly just killed a tourist. ”

“Are you kidding? It’s ten o’clock. Seattle is empty. ”

“That’s true. ”

Elizabeth took a bite of her crust. “So what’s the problem, kiddo? Your messages lately sounded depressed. And you don’t usually cry when I show up. ”

“Let me see, I hate my job. My client’s husband tried to shoot me after I ruined him. My sister married a country singer who happens to be a felon. ” She looked up. “Shall I go on?”

“Please. ”

“I baby-sat my niece when Claire went on her honeymoon and now my house feels obscenely quiet. And I met this guy. . . . ”

Elizabeth slowly put down the pizza.

Meghann looked at her best friend, feeling a sudden wave of helplessness. Softly, she dared to say, “There’s something wrong with me, Birdie. Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night and my cheeks are wet. I don’t even know why I’m crying. ”

“Are you lonely yet?”

“What do you mean, yet?”

“Come on, Meg. We’ve been friends for more than twenty years. I remember when you were a quiet, way-too-young freshman at the UW. One of those genius kids who everyone believes will either kill themselves or cure cancer. You used to cry every night back then. My bed was next to yours on the sleeping porch, remember? It broke my heart, how quietly you cried. ”

“Is that why you started walking to class with me?”

“I wanted to take care of you—it’s what we Southern women do, don’t you know? I waited years for you to tell me why you cried. ”