“Why does she get to leave?” Harlow grumbles.
“Because she’s eighteen and legally an adult so I can’t stop her—but believe me that won’t stop me from worrying myself senseless.”
“Oh, Mom, it’s not like I’m leaving today. Calm yourself. I don’t even have a job yet.”
“Well, that’s a small comfort.”
We’re saved from more conversation by the arrival of our food, and since we’re all starving we dig in and have no time to talk. It’s nice, being with my mom and sister. We don’t get times like this often enough and I miss it. So I choose to enjoy the moment, because moments like these are always gone too soon.
Ping.
Ping.
Ping.
I roll from my stomach to my back and immediately flop onto the floor with a small thunk. Thank God my mattress is on the floor or else that would’ve been loud and I’d probably have hurt myself.
Ping.
I hurry over to my window and lift it up, looking down at Jasper below with a small handful of pebbles cradled in his palm. He looks distraught, and if I didn’t know better I’d say he’s been crying.nbsp;
“Are you okay?” I whisper-yell down to him.
He shakes his head. “I need you.”
I need you.
Not I need to talk to you.
No.
I need you.
I nod. “I’ll be right down.”
I throw on a sweatshirt—I still haven’t returned his and I don’t plan on it—and shove my feet into a pair of flip-flops.
Meeting Jasper at the front of the house, we make our same path around the side to the back, finding a seat in the sand.
He draws his knees up, draping his arms over them, and lets out a heavy sigh weighted with pain and worry.
I don’t say anything, not wanting to push him.
It’s been a few days since we’ve met like this, and I’ve missed it, but I know he’s not here just to see me. He’s sad, visibly shaken.
Placing a hand on his shoulder I rub it softly, feeling the muscle flex and pulse beneath my hand.
He sniffles and looks at me with red-rimmed eyes.
“My mom started cleaning out T.J.’s room today.” He lets out a heavy breath and looks away. “I didn’t think it would bother me this much, I knew it had to happen eventually, his room couldn’t sit there like some sad tomb but … this sucks. It’s like seeing the last of him erased right before my eyes. And it got me thinking,” he pauses, swallowing thickly. “I can’t remember the sound of his laugh. He’s only been gone a few months and I already can’t remember his laugh. I called his phone today, to hear his voicemail to make sure I at least still remembered the sound of his voice.”
“Jasper,” I breathe.nbsp;
The words I’m sorry are on the tip of my tongue, and while I am sorry I know those aren’t the words he wants to hear right now. I know I wouldn’t. Sorry doesn’t change anything.
“Am I being stupid?” he asks, his voice cracking. “It’s only a room.”
I shake my head. “You’re not stupid and it’s more than a room. A person’s room is a reflection of their soul, of who they are, it can’t be easy to see it disappear.”