Eli barely spoke.
People kept asking me how he was doing.
I never knew what to say.
He showered.
He ate when reminded.
He went back to school.
Technically, he was functioning.
But a part of him seemed to have disappeared with his sister.
Then, nine days before graduation, I came downstairs at midnight and found him sitting at the kitchen table.
The red dress was spread in front of him.
I stopped in the doorway.
“Eli?”
He looked up.
His eyes were swollen.
“I have to tell you something.”
He reached inside his backpack and pulled out an envelope.
My name wasn’t on it.
His was.
In Maya’s handwriting.
She had given it to him three days before she died.
I hadn’t known.
Neither had their father.
