He looks like he’s about to speak, but doesn’t. He pulls himself from my grasp and I’m still standing there when the front door to Little House opens and then shuts behind him.
I wait on the roof as the sun rises. He doesn’t return.
I’m still there when I see Mary and Nina walk out the door of Bi
g House and get into the car, going to open the store.
I’m still sitting there when Christie leaves a few moments later, going only God knows where.
I’m still sitting there when an old Honda rolls up the driveway. It rolls past Big House and a minute later brakes squeal as it pulls next to the Ford. I’ll have to remember to check the pads next time. Abe opens the door and gets out. He looks up at me. “Benji,” he says.
“Abe.”
“Where’s our friend?”
I shrug.
“Is he here?”
“No. He’s gone.”
Abe looks around. “He left?”
I nod.
“He coming back?”
“I don’t know.” I hope. Oh, how I hope. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Please come back. I’ve been praying like this for hours. Nothing has happened.
“Boy,” Abe says, narrowing his eyes, “what did you do?”
“I told him that God didn’t give a shit about him,” I say honestly. “I told him he might as well have been the one that killed my father, since he didn’t protect him. I told him I didn’t need him here.” Those words hurt. I ignore the way my voice cracks.
“Did you mean it?”
I shake my head. “He’s my friend. I was mad. He was hurting and frustrated and I took that and made it my own. I lashed out. I drove him away. I drove him away and I don’t know if he’s going to come back.”
“You’re going to make me climb that ladder, aren’t you?” Abe asks, sounding resigned.
“Had to watch the sunrise,” I tell him, hoping he’ll understand even though I know he won’t. “It’s kind of a tradition now. Abe, what if he doesn’t come back?”
But Abe doesn’t answer, he’s already moving toward the side of the house, to the ladder. I try not to think as I wait, but I fail miserably. You’ve only known him nine days, I chide myself. Nine days is nothing in the scheme of things. Nine days is minuscule compared to how long you’ve gone without him. Grow a pair.
I almost believe my own lies. Almost.
Abe finally huffs his way to the top and comes to sit beside me, his knees cracking as he lowers himself. He doesn’t speak for a time, and we watch the morning take shape around us. It’s okay, this silence. It’s easier to drown when it’s quiet.
But I should have known it wouldn’t last long. “Wings, huh?” Abe finally says.
“Yeah. Angel, even.”
“That’s…. something new.”
“That’s what I said.”
Silence. Then, “Did you mean it?”
“No,” I say roughly. “I didn’t mean a word of it. It’s not his fault. He’s right. I’m the one who called him here. Even if he wanted to come, I still called him.”