She was standing in the doorway of her brothers’ room holding an empty cardboard box.
“No.”
“Mom…”
“I said no, Sophie.”
“Mom, we need to go through their things.”
“We’re not throwing anything away, Mom.”
“Then why are you holding a box?”
“To donate what somebody could use.”
I stared past her.
That room wasn’t a shrine.
At least I told myself it wasn’t.
But too many things remained exactly where they’d been.
“We’re not throwing anything away, Mom.”
Some stupid part of me had never stopped expecting footsteps in the hall.
Sophie lowered her voice.
“They’re not coming back for these.”
That hurt.
She knew it.
Her eyes filled immediately.
“I’m sorry.”
I looked away.
Then reached for another box.
“Fine.”
She nodded.
“They’re not coming back for these.”
We started packing, but I stepped away to cook.
Dinner was still hours off, but I just needed an excuse to leave.
