“Because my clothes are in the closet.”
“All of them?”
“Most.”
“Where are the rest?”
“Laundry.”
She ignored that.
She looked at the empty suitcase again.
“You always kept clothes in there.”
“I know.”
“In case you went back?”
I had never told her that.
Children noticed everything.
I zipped the suitcase.
Then I slid it beneath the bed.
“No.”
She looked at me.
“No what?”
“I’m not keeping it packed anymore.”
Sophie stood very still.
“Because you live here?”
“Yes.”
“Like really?”
I nodded.
“Like really.”
She looked toward the hall.
Then she ran downstairs.
I heard drawers opening.
A cabinet door slammed.
“Sophie?”
“Wait!”
A minute later, she came running back carrying Hopper.
She placed the worn rabbit on my pillow.
“What’s this?”
“He can stay in here tonight.”
“Don’t you need him?”
She shrugged with enormous seriousness.
“I know where you are.”
I couldn’t answer.
Sophie turned toward the door.
Halfway out, she stopped.
“Uncle Daniel?”
“Yeah?”
“Are you coming downstairs?”
“In a minute.”
She pointed at me.
“Don’t be seven minutes.”
I laughed.
“Deal.”
After she left, I sat in the room my brother had once shared with his wife and looked at a stuffed rabbit lying on my pillow.
At the funeral, Sophie had asked whether I was leaving too.
For months, I thought the answer required one heroic decision.
It didn’t.
Staying turned out to be hundreds of smaller decisions.
Answering the phone.
Showing up after work.
Calling when I was late.
Giving up one future without pretending I didn’t mourn it.
Making room for my life without removing her parents from hers.
I picked up Hopper and went downstairs.
Sophie was setting two bowls on the coffee table.
“You took three minutes,” she said.
“You timed me?”
“Obviously.”
I sat beside her.
She took Hopper back and tucked him beneath her arm.
Outside, cars moved through the neighborhood.
Somewhere down the block, a dog barked.
The air conditioner clicked on.
Nothing dramatic happened.
Nobody applauded.
Sophie leaned against my shoulder while the television played.
And for the first time since my brother died, I understood that home wasn’t the house Evan had left behind.