“It’s probably just the job interview she’s got coming up,” he says. “But I don’t know. She’s not usually this jumpy, and I swear sometimes she looks like she’s about to cry.”
She hasn’t said anything about another interview. My heart stalls, thumps unpleasantly, and I take a deep breath, trying to force my biological functions into compliance.
“What’s the interview?” I ask, as casually as I possibly can.
Please let it be in Roanoke, in Richmond, maybe even Northern Virginia…
“It’s for an editor position in South Dakota,” he says, still looking out, over the crowd. “She’s already had a phone interview or maybe two for it and now she’s flying out to meet them in person. I don’t know why she’s so nervous, it seems like it’s almost a done deal if they’ve gone through all that, you know?”
Someone’s lighting the first bonfire, and that’s all I look at, all I can bear: a lighted stick inside an inverted cone of wood, flickering brightly through the cracks as the tinder goes up, the bigger pieces trying to catch.
South Dakota.
She didn’t tell me.
Maybe she just found out. I’m sure it’s because she just found out.
“I haven’t noticed a difference in her behavior, nor her demeanor,” I hear myself say, my own voice sounding distant. “But, again, I don’t—”
“Right, see her enough to notice,” Silas finishes for me. “I swear, she’s been a basket case about it all week.”
All week?
I exhale, hard. I’m still staring at the fire, concentrating so hard that I can almost feel it lick against my skin, wrap around a hand, consume me.
Why wouldn’t she tell me?
I thought we told each other things.
Something unpleasant starts at the base of my spine and works its way up, a black snake slithering upward, winding between my vertebrae.
“It is a good job?” I ask, and to my own ears I sound breathless, deranged, but Silas doesn’t seem to notice.
“Yeah, but it’s in South Dakota,” he sighs. “You know, I really want her to be happy, but I kinda hope she doesn’t get it. I like having her around, even though she’s kind of annoying sometimes.”
She didn’t tell me. I think I might crack in half.
“That’s far,” I say, and somehow, I sound normal.
“Yeah,” he says. “I volunteered to take her to the airport Monday and I kinda wish I hadn’t, she’s gotta be there at seven in the morning which means we gotta leave at…”
I can barely hear him over my heartbeat, thundering away in my chest: Dakota Dakota Dakota. South Dakota. South Dakota.
“…but whatever, she’ll owe me, I guess,” Silas finishes. “There are worse things than—”
The doors fly open and Caleb appears. I just stare at him, still feeling as though I’m stuck in glass, unable to think or move.
“Where is he?” Caleb says, wide-eyed. “Did he come this way?”
“Who?” I ask.
“Seth,” Silas and Caleb both say in unison.
“And no,” Silas tells Caleb.
“He’s gone,” Caleb says. “He said he had to take a piss and that was ten minutes ago. He’s not inside, so he must be out here—”
Caleb is already standing up tall, trying to see over the crowd. Seth shouldn’t be too hard to spot right now, but none of us are managing.
June is flying to a job interview.
In South Dakota.
That she didn’t tell me about.
I feel nauseous. I couldn’t care less about finding Delilah right now.
“There,” Caleb says suddenly. “Shit. Shit. They’re close. Tell me he doesn’t see her.”
Then he’s off, moving between people and tables, navigating with an odd grace peculiar to my youngest brother.
Silas and I follow. Or rather, Silas follows and I let myself be pulled along, still barely paying attention.
“No,” Caleb hisses, stopping suddenly. I nearly run into him, then step to one side, follow his glance.
Delilah is talking to a couple, beer in hand, laughing.
Fifty feet away, Seth is walking straight toward her across the lawn, bouncy pumpkin dark and motionless behind them.
“Don’t,” Caleb mutters, mostly to himself. “I can’t do this again, Seth.”
Then he’s off, striding across the grass, blocking Seth’s way. Caleb holds up a hand, says something. Seth shrugs, gives him a look, says something else that I can’t quite hear.
South Dakota.
Caleb leans in, speaks urgently, and Seth shakes his head. He takes his younger brother by the shoulder, gives him a smile and a squeeze, walks around him.
There’s a moment where I think Caleb might tackle him, but he doesn’t. He just turns and walks away, back toward the building.
Silas and I watch. There’s no way we intercede now without making a scene and probably making it worse, so we do nothing.
Right before he gets to her, her back to him, he pauses. He takes a long sip of his beer, like he’s gathering his wits or his courage.
Then he reaches out, taps her on the shoulder. Delilah turns. For a split second, she stares.