She told me she had changed apartments.
I told her Sophie had lost her first tooth and accused me of underpaying compared with the tooth fairy market rate at school.
Then Claire asked, “Do you regret it?”
I looked around the room.
My engineering books were on the floor.
Evan’s old college baseball cap still hung from one shelf.
A framed picture of him and me at sixteen and nineteen sat on the desk.
“Yes,” I said.
Claire went quiet.
I added, “Sometimes.”
She breathed out.
“Thank you for saying that.”
“I miss Denver.”
“I know.”
“I miss my job.”
“I know.”
“I miss us.”
“I miss us too.”
I tightened one screw.
“But regret isn’t always the same as wishing you chose differently.”
Claire said nothing for a moment.
Then, “No. I guess it isn’t.”
We said goodbye.
Not forever.
Just goodbye.
The moment that finally made the house feel different happened in late summer.
I had spent months avoiding Evan and Megan’s bedroom.
I slept in the guest room.
Their clothes remained in their closet.
Megan’s book still lay facedown on the nightstand.
Evan’s watch sat in a ceramic dish.
Keeping the room untouched had stopped feeling respectful.
It had started feeling like waiting.
One Saturday, my father came over to help.
So did Aunt Laura.
We did not empty the room.
We sorted.
Kept some things.
Donated others.
Packed several boxes for Sophie to decide about when she was older.
At one point, I found Evan’s old college sweatshirt.
I held it too long.
Dad saw.
“Keep it.”
“I have enough stuff.”
“That wasn’t what I said.”
I kept it.
By evening, the closet was half empty.
My own clothes hung on one side.
Evan’s sweatshirt hung on the other.
For the first time since November, I moved my suitcase out of the guest room.
Sophie stood in the doorway watching.
“You’re sleeping in here?”
“I think so.”
“This was Mom and Dad’s room.”
“I know.”
She looked around.
“Are you taking it?”
The wording stopped me.
“No.”
I sat on the edge of the bed.
“I’m using it.”
“What’s the difference?”
“I’m not erasing them.”
She looked toward the closet.
“Dad’s sweatshirt is still there.”
“Yep.”
“Mom’s blue box?”
“Top shelf.”
She walked in.
Then she noticed my suitcase.
“Why is that empty?”