Learning to Stay (9781101611685) by Celello Erin

Author:Celello, Erin [Celello, Erin]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781101611685
Publisher: Penguin USA
Published: 2013-02-05T05:00:00+00:00

Twenty-two

I pull into the driveway and shift into park. My sole thought is of a warm shower and sleep. As I turn off the car, though, I notice someone sitting on the darkened front steps. Even though she’s cloaked in shadows, I can tell it’s Sondra: her long, thin limbs; the regal carriage of her head and neck, like a beautiful flower on a slender stem; her hair sculpted into a stunning Afro, like an exotic Japanese tree.

“What are you doing here?” I ask as I walk up the sidewalk.

“I was in the neighborhood,” she says. “I sent you a message.” And when I check my phone, I see that she did—ten minutes ago.

Sondra gets up as I climb the stairs and steps aside for me to unlock the door. I hold it open for her. “Come on in,” I say, though my tone isn’t at all hospitable.

I march back to my bedroom to drop my overnight bag and leave Sondra milling around the living room, looking at the photos of me and Brad that adorn the mantel and surrounding shelves. One day while visiting my grandparents—my father’s parents—I realized that every photo in the house was of the two of them, and I remember how odd I found that. Everywhere you turned—living room, kitchen, bedroom, bathroom—only my grandmother and grandfather smiled back. Now that I am older, I can see how it happens, because it’s starting to happen to me. I don’t keep photos of my parents outside of my bedroom, lest it start a conversation about what they did and where they lived, and the awkward, stuttering recovery that people always attempt when I say that they died. I’m not sure Brad even has any family photos, or at least, none that I’ve ever seen. Neither of us has nieces or nephews to memorialize, and there aren’t even pets to dote on. So, it is photos of the two of us or none at all.

I hear Sondra call out, “I want to thank you—for taking care of Antony like you did.”

My head snaps up from rifling through my bag for a hair tie. I’m not prepared for the small talk to end so soon. I wonder how she knows that I saw Antony after she left. And then I realize that she’s been talking to him.

I let her words linger until I’m back in the living room. “I didn’t really do anything,” I say.

Sondra is sitting in the recliner, her legs folded under her like a fawn.

“Oh, but you did,” she says. “You kept him company, made him feel like he mattered that day. He was in a bad spot. He’s grateful for what you did.”

I find it hard to believe that I was able to do all that for Antony in the two hours I spent with him, but at least her use of past tense indicates that he’s feeling a bit better. Right now, though, I’m livid with Sondra. “It wasn’t really my place,” I say, “but I suppose someone had to.

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