19675904

Dinner

Mourning replaced mom's footsteps around the house for the following week, but death traipsed mischievously, unlike mom. I'd hear mourning sneaking up on each of us like a morbid surprise, throwing each of us into our own fits of wrestling with grayscale emotions. 823 lost her glow, even her lost fervor. I took off a week off work and I postponed my second draft for a few weeks longer. Instead of playing family games, we took long walks. On the outskirts of our suburbia, only an eight hundred feet walk I estimated, there was a path for bikers and walkers. With the new season, I expected it to be more popular, but because it was a short one and a half mile loop, I guess it was too short for avid exercisers. Everyday, we put on our sneakers and walked. It was gorgeous.

They were for dad, 823, and 91. Dad dearly missed his soulmate. 823 would often break into a puddle of slippery tears. 91 hid her emotions a lot more [contemplating suicide]. I tried my best to hold up the family, walking with Dad when he would let me, and playing therapist for my sisters. [write more about their emotional experiences later].

After that first month, 881 had reentered our lives. He had gone out of his way to interact with 823 more on campus after Roman Numerals. With the end of the semester, he continued to see her by hanging out one on one. On one Saturday with (anne description)

She'd come back from the movies or the farmer's market with him.

"4, can you come help me put away groceries?" 823 called out to me from downstairs.

"Sure," I closed my laptop and joined her in the kitchen, peeking out the window on my way downstairs, watching 881 leave the driveway. "How was your date with Señor suave?"

"Not a date!" She handed me a grocery bag to work on, "He's just been... very helpful–"

"--Oh I know that!"

"Please, I tried to pay for groceries this time, but he insisted. He just feels bad for us and wants to help out how he can." Selfishly, I thought, it would be a real help if he could just leave my sister alone.

"How deep can his pockets be?! He pays for your–everything."

"Well, both his parents are doctors and he's an only child, also studying to be a doctor."

"Sounds like dude's drowning in money and resistance and complaints from essential oil moms."

"He tells me that he works a lot with decimals."

"How noble of him."

"If you hold disdain against him, just tell me to my face rather than coating every other sentence you say about him with it. Why do you distrust him so much?" She closed the fridge door.

"823, he's great. He's paid for our groceries and really helped you cope with mom's passing. I can't deny that. But you know that I've had my suspicions about him ever since he came into your life. I mean, think about it; isn't it uncanny how he randomly brings up the secret 6's–which nobody talks about because it's just some stupid fairytale–until lo and behold, that's the very night mom dies and is left with the mark of the 6's. It's great that he helps out so much, but what if it's because... he, well. I don't know. Call me a bad sister for having a bad gut feeling."

"Don't play the pity card, 4. You're so jealous that I finally found the happiness I deserve. 81's been nothing but sweet. I can understand trusting your gut, but remember. The night of...when everything happened... it was just that–a night of overwhelming feelings. And maybe him bringing up the secret 6's was like the universe's way of cushioning what was to come."

Silence. I knew she was entirely right.

"Well, if you've got nothing else to say, I've got something to say to you. He's coming over in two days for dinner with his family here."