"Oh, Quinn, you startled me," my mother said. She and my father sat in their normal spots in the living room. My father was reading and my mother was watching a raucous reality television show.
He put his book down, and my mother paused the television. The same heavy expression they had worn all day returned. If I had not reappeared, they could have convinced themselves both daughters were at UCLA and all was as it should be. I was an unwelcome reminder that Sienna was gone.
"I was just coming to say goodnight," I said.
"It’s only 8 pm," my father said.
"I'm just really tired," I rubbed my forehead.
"Sienna says studying before bed is a good idea because your mind works on what you learned all night," my mother told me.
"Yes, good idea," I said. I did not tell them I had left all my study material at school.
Upstairs again, the weight overtook me. I sank to the floor next to my bed. Sienna was gone and I could just as easily disappear. In fact, I slipped out of my parents' lives just by leaving the room. I could just leave and they would never even notice. Where would I go and what would I do?
I knew, but I was not ready to think about it.
I must have been sitting there for nearly an hour when the phone rang. "Hello?"
"Quinn, I had to call. How are you?"
"Darla? Hi. I don't know. I survived," I said. I pulled myself off the floor and wandered around the room as we talked. "How are things on campus?"
"Crazy. There were about a dozen memorials for Sienna today. The administration has gone into hyper speed about mental health. I swear to God they would screen us all if they could. There's even talk of a suicide prevention team being formed. They want you to be a part of it. I actually had to explain to them why today was not a good day to call and discuss it," Darla said.
"How am I supposed to come back?" I groaned. "Owen was right, maybe now is a good time to take a break and find out what I really want to do."
"Owen?" Darla asked. "Yes, of course he was at the funeral."
"I hid out in the basement playing video games. He found me and we hung out. It was just like old times."
"Old times like when you had a mad crush on him? Like when he was flirting with you but dating your sister?" Darla asked.
"Exactly," I said.
She sighed. "Well, at least that got a little smile out of you. I heard it."
"I know, I know, but it was really great. He's the only one I can actually talk to around here."
"And it doesn't hurt that he's a 6 foot, blue-eyed, blond that's built like a Norse god," Darla said. "I'd let him comfort me anytime."
"Want to know something weird?" I asked. "My mother was crazy today and trying to place the blame on Owen. While she was ranting at him, she said the strangest thing. She said everyone knew about Owen and me. Sienna even knew how well we got along and she encouraged Owen to hang out with me."
"Well, she did only use him as eye candy," Darla said. "Maybe your sister realized you two share something a little deeper."
"But she still dated him."
"Was your sister ever any good at sharing?" Darla asked. "Sorry."
"No, it's good. Owen and I spent all day listening to memories of Sienna that had passed through a perfecting lens. No one wanted to remember that she was real," I said. I flopped back on my bed. "I don't want my sister to be a saint. I just want to remember my actual sister."
"Oh, Quinn, I'm so sorry. You and Sienna loved each other. Sisters don't always get along, sisters don't always share, and sisters certainly don't take it easy on each other. No one knew her like you."
"Thanks, Darla. I'll be back on campus soon," I said. We said our goodbyes and I hung up.
Darla was right. I knew Sienna better than anyone. And now that I thought about it, she had always talked about Owen and me together. She had talked to me about movies Owen and I would like, stores we should visit, and places we should go. Sometimes she sent us off together while she was busy. At the time I would be embarrassed, thinking she was using Owen to babysit me, but now I wondered.
My thoughts were interrupted by a tap on the window. It was followed by a smattering of clicks, pebbles hitting the glass. I pulled myself off my bed and went to the window. Owen waved from the lawn and pointed to the kitchen door.