Home Wasn't A Set House, Or A

Despite My Dad's Assurances I Was Strangely Nervous My Stomach Tight Ever Since We'd Hung Up. Maybe Deb Had Picked Up On This And It Was Why She'd Pretty Much Talked Nonstop Since I'd Approached Her And Asked For A Ride. I'd Barely Had Time To Explain The Situation Before She Had Launched Into A Dozen Stories To Illustrate The Point That Things Happened But People Were Okay In The End.

Okay. Enough." I Got Out Of The Closet, Brushing Myself Off, Then Turned Around To Face Her. "this Is Happening. So You Need To Go Downstairs, Face Your Fears, And Make The Best Of It, And Everything Will Be Okay." She Narrowed Her Eyes At Me. "when Did You Suddenly Become So Positive?" "just Get Out Of There.

Maybe My Sister And I Shared More Than We Thought. We Were Both Waiting And Wishing For Something We Couldn't Completely Control: I Wanted To Be Alone, And She The Total Opposite. It Was Weird, Really, To Have Something So Contrary In Common. But At Least It Was Something.

There Was No Way To Take The Story Back, Folding It Neatly Into The Place I'd Kept It All This Time. No Matter What Else Happened, From Here On Out, I Would Always Remember Wes, Because With This Telling, He'd Become Part Of That Story, Of My Story, Too.

Like Life Isn't Complicated Enough. You Should At Least Be Able To Follow The Signs.