Two weeks pass. A flurry of plans and ends being tied. My sister and aunt take over. Fuss and fold into each other. They laugh, telling stories, and I sit at the kitchen table, absorbing them.

When they are gone, being better at greed than I, I pack things at the house. Take pictures off the wall. On a Saturday I pull an old black dress from my closet for the funeral. I hold their hands when they lower my father into the ground. I catch Ben’s eyes from across the cemetery. He is this strange mixture of wild and steady. Sneaking into my window at night, holding me close to him.

We get ahold of the other town realtor. The house goes on the market and I leave the sheet I tacked up over my window up. I keep the sunlight out and I keep Bryan out. I block his number, not out of hatred, but out of necessity.

When my sister brings in a picture taken from prom night, this is when the tears come and fall more freely. When the dam breaks and I realize the well inside me was not dry.

I look at our faces. Me and Britt and Akia and Christina.

“You never talk about her anymore,” Sasha says.

“I felt her inside for so long, and then I pushed it down. Coming here, it was too much. It’s so hard, all this losing.”

“I know,” she says, looking away, to a picture of our mother on the wall. I hug my sister then. I don’t let her hug me, I hug her. I try to comfort her. I try to be the one giving, not the one taking. My sponge sister and all of her worry.

“I love you so much. Thank you for raising me. I’m sorry I didn’t turn out quite right.”

She laughs. “You turned out perfect.” When she pulls away she wipes at my cheek.

“When are you leaving?” I ask her. She has been packing her things, slowly. I hear her talking to my aunt about money. She can’t stay here forever. And my aunt can tie up the loose ends. She was left in charge of my father’s estate.

“On Monday, maybe. What are your plans?”

It’s a Tuesday and next Monday seems so far away and too soon. Six days left with my sister. “I don’t know. Maybe I should leave at the same time.”

“There isn’t any reason to stay. Unless you want to spend more time with Aunt V.”

I think of my aunt and her life in Topeka. She doesn’t spend nights here and I don’t want to be alone in this house. “I don’t want to be here, by myself,” I say, voicing my own sad thoughts.

“Would you be alone?” She eyes me and I shake my head. “I know he comes over. It’s okay. You could have had him come through the door. You’re not a kid and I’m not your mom.”

“I’ll remember that the next time you give me the mom look.”

She laughs, walking from my bedroom. I follow her and pull my phone out. I see a text from Ben and I miss him even though I saw him this morning. I also see a text from Britt. I smile, then show my sister.

“You can’t carry grief alone. You can’t run from the ones you love, you know.” She hands my phone back and I shove it in my pocket.

“I know.” I look at the kitchen table. At the rest of the pictures my sister has been sorting. Prom pictures. The ones I left behind, shoved in the hall closet. I grab another one from the table. I see Christina, our prom queen. I see her in her crown. Her blue dress. An image that I can only see here, never pull from my memory. Because I left prom early. I didn’t see her win, because I didn’t want to see Bryan win prom king, which he did. I didn’t see Rodney congratulate her, ask her to dance. I didn’t see the beginning of the end. The beginning of fate’s cruel trick.

I run my finger over the gold and glimmer of her crown.

You can’t run from your past forever. You can’t avoid the grief in your chest. It will lie dormant, but eventually bubble up and over, overtaking you.

I pull my phone back out, and send a text.

Britt meets me at the cemetery. She is already standing at Christina’s grave, a place I never let myself go. A place I could not face.

When I reach her, I reach for her hand. She lets me take it and I begin to cry. Maybe I don’t deserve forgiveness, but she is giving me this.

She turns to me when a sob escapes, and hugs me. She feels the way she always did. A little taller than me. Her chin rests on the top of my head and I know her neck will be covered in my salt. Christina was my best friend. I always told myself that. But Britt was the one who always challenged me. She was the one who always told me the truths I didn’t want to face.

“I’m so sorry,” I sob. “I shouldn’t have left like that. I should have kept in touch and you would think, with all this death, I would be better at this. But I’m not. Maybe they coddled me too much.” My father who is gone and my sister who will be gone soon, too. Will I always be so stunted?

“It’s okay,” Britt says, pulling away. “I’m sorry about your father. And I’m sorry things were shit when we saw each other again.” She turns away, looks at Christina’s grave. I let my eyes follow. Christina Kaylen. Daughter. Granddaughter. Friend.

I lay my head on Britt’s shoulder and listen to the silence of Kansas. My breathing becomes even and I know I cannot stay in this silence. “I’m leaving soon,” I say. “I couldn’t bail again without telling you.”

“How soon?”

“Next week. Same day as my sister. The house is almost taken care of and we need to get back to the lives on pause.” She nods and we stand in silence again.

“Who do you think she would have been?” I ask.

“I don’t know. I think she would have been a vet. Or a foster parent. Or a journalist. Anything. I don’t know,” she repeats. “She wanted to be so many things. And now she is none of those.” She shuffles her shoe and I close my eyes.

I open them when a bird cries and I look at the words on the tombstone. “She was our friend. She will always be our friend. That can’t be taken away.”

“Yes. Maybe you’re right.” Britt clears her throat. “I have a question though.”

I take my head from her shoulder, look her in the eye. “Yes?”

“Is your friendship still going to be something that was taken from me that night?”

I press my lips together and I hate this feeling in my throat. Tears keep coming out of me and it’s a foreign thing. I was always so good at numbing, running. “No,” I say. We don’t hug again. We just nod. Letting the knowledge sink in that beginnings can belong to those who never had proper endings.

We stay there in the cemetery until our stomachs rumble and the heat is too much, then head to lunch. Together.