I'll Be Here

There’s a potted plant to my right that could use a little water.  It’s even got one of those stained glass watering globes poking up from the dirt that’s supposed to make watering easier, but that’s dry too. 
    There’s a brass knocker declaring Faber just below a crescent moon window.  I lift it up and let it fall.  The sound isn’t what I’d hoped for so I use my knuckles this time, knocking three rapid hollow beats against the white wood. 
                I see the top of a head framed in the window, and then Brooke is opening the door and she looks surprised and sorry all at once.  Her eyes are a clear blue.  My gut clenches tight.
                “Is he okay?”  I ask before the door is even all the way open.
                Brooke’s mouth hangs open like she is going to say something but then she doesn’t.  Uncle Danny would call it “catching flies.”  She reaches out for my hand and gently pulls me forward. 
    “Oh, Willow honey, come in.” 
    And it’s the way she says it that I know with certainty that Alex is fine and his not answering my calls or coming to my house last night has nothing to do with him falling down stairs or getting crushed in his car.
                We’re sitting in two upholstered chairs in the familiar sunroom.  I haven’t been here for nearly two years but it’s the same as I remember.  Only the family photographs have been updated.  The one on the mantle used to be of a twelve year old Alex proudly displaying a fish in front of his bare chest, his face triumphant, his dark hair a mess of wind, salt, and sun.  Today the frame boasts a photo of the same boy, now a young man, in his graduation cap and gown.  His arm rests on a low brick wall, the tassel of the cap dangles in front of eyes the color of calm water, his smile is a challenging secret for the camera.
                Brooke offers me tea.  I ask for water, though I’m not sure why since I’m not at all thirsty.  My skin feels too warm against the cold tempered glass that she sets in my hands.  I wonder how red my face is. 
                She sits back down and clears her throat.  Alex looks so much like her.  I can see it in the eyes and the chin and the straight nose.  And the hands.  This is incredibly awkward. 
    “I promised Alex that I wasn’t going to get involved in this mess and I haven’t even told your mom but, Willow, I care about you and the look on your face is too much.” 
    She shifts her weight and I see that the chair she’s in is a bit wobbly like the legs aren’t quite even. 
    “Alex thought that he was going to have an awful week finishing up some work and studying for an exam, but on Thursday morning his professor moved the exam back and Alex decided to take advantage of it and come home early.  I assume that was mostly to see you.”  There’s a note of accusation in her voice.  She fingers the glass in her hands.
                “So, he drove home and when he got into town, before he even came home to drop his bags off, he decided to surprise you after work.” 
    At this point, Brooke is looking at me like I’m supposed to understand where this story is going.  I don’t.  I don’t get it.  I’m confused as hell and I’m about to tell her so when all of a sudden it happens.
                I do understand.
                I do get it.
                Thursday.
                Dustin.
                Pizza.
                The big picture window with the glaring sun and the perfect street view.
                I stand up but then I have to sit down again because I don’t feel right.  My face is hot.  Brooke says something but it doesn’t register.  I think she’s talking about Dustin and asking me a question but my brain is going in a different direction.  I’m thinking about Alex and I’m wondering what he saw and of course it’s all a mess.
                “I should go,” I say and this time when I stand up I stay up on my feet.
                Brooke follows me to the door, her hand lingering in the crook of my elbow.  I turn to her before I leave and I give her a hug and I wonder briefly if she notices the wetness brimming in my eyes or the way that my hands are trembling.  She stands in the open doorway and watches me as I move down the front steps and over the lawn to where my car is