“Why?”
“Because,” I tell her. “Because it’s in my head and it won’t leave.”
“Then you’ll leave?”
“Yes.”
“I thought it’d be better,” she says. “For you. For Derrick.” I know this. I’ve heard this.
Leave, leave, leave.
But I don’t. “You thought it’d be better for you,” I say.
She nods. “That too.”
“Was it?”
Behind the façade, I see the first shimmer in her eyes. “For a time.”
“And after?”
“I thought about you both. A lot.”
Leave, leave, leave.
“Did you?”
“Yes.”
“And what did you think about?”
“If you were doing okay. If you grew up to be what I thought you’d grow up to be.”
“And what was that?”
She laughs wetly. “I don’t know. Doctor. Astronaut. Bug scientist. All those things you said you wanted to be.”
“He doesn’t like bugs,” Izzie says.
“He used to,” Julie says, and it’s the most surreal moment of my life. “He used to play with the little sand crabs on the beach for hours. He’d cry every time we had to leave.”
“Crabs aren’t bugs,” Izzie and I say at the same time. She smiles at me, but it fades too quickly.
Julie says nothing.
“I didn’t become any of those things,” I say. “Not yet.”
“Why?” I don’t know if there’s any real interest. It doesn’t matter.
“Because I thought I was broken. Lost and broken. For the longest time.”
“Are you?”
“Maybe I was. But not anymore. I think I’ve found my way back.”
“I know—” she starts but then stops. She turns her head and looks out the window. It’s a perfectly lovely day, not too hot. There’s a pretty tree outside the window, and the leaves dance in the wind. “I think I’ve been there.” And I think she’s still there. I don’t think she’s ever known anything else.
“You could have stayed,” I say sadly. Any anger I may have felt is gone now. I just feel pity. For her. For what could have been.