Open When I'm Gone

5. Another Love

The ice cream becomes sticky on our hands as we sit at the front table at the ice cream parlor, Bri laughing when the rainbow coloring drips down her wrist, trying to lick it away as I wipe it away with a brown paper napkin.

"Rainbow is Eddie's favorite Ice cream," Bri tells me very matter of factly, like I haven't brought Eddy here fifty times and gotten her the exact same flavor.

"When is Eddy gonna come with us again?" She whines, resting her head against my shoulder.

I don't know how to reply to that, honestly. 'She won't be,' or maybe "Not soon, but someday you'll understand why.'

Instead, with a tight throat and aching heart, I decide on "I'm not sure yet, munchkin,"

She sighs dramatically, resting her head on my shoulder. "Fine,"

I know that she means it as a joke, but it hurts. It hurts that I can't sit her down and explain to her that, no, Eddy will never come to ice cream with us again, that she will never do anything like that again. She will never do anything again.

But I can't. I promised Graham that I wouldn't, so instead I just say, "Come on munchkin, let's go back home,"

***

As we walk home, her little hand in mine, she tells me all about pre-school and all the crafts and games they've done so far, and of course about the class pet, Whiskers the Hamster.

"I have something for you at home!" She exclaims, gripping my hand and practically dragging me the small distance to the house.

The house still smells like her as I follow behind Bri to her room. I try to fight off the deja vu as we pass Eddy's room. It's empty now.

Bri's room however, is just as I remember it. Her pink canopy bed pressed in the corner, her dollhouse under the bay window, toys spread across the floor. Definitely a fire hazard if you ask me, but of course she's four, it doesn't matter what I think.

"Here!" She shouts, handing me a bright pink bag that says 'happy birthday baby girl' with blue and orange tissue paper sticking haphazardly out of the top.

I grin at her, expecting some sort of craft she made in school, some drawing or paper circle with a smiley face on it.

But the plastic is sticky as I pull out a picture frame, Eddy, Bri and I's smiling faces staring back at me, almost with an evil glimmer in our eyes. I remember taking this picture. It was last summer right after Eddy had gotten out of the hospital, and we had decided to take Bri to the splash pad by my house so that we could spend time with Eddy. Bri and I were soaking wet and Eddy was smiling at us like it was the greatest moment of her life. Like we were the greatest things in her life.

"Wow," I feel my eyes welling up, "This is great, Bri,"

"Me and Eddy made it,"

My heart feels like it speeds up one hundred times, and the frame hits the carpet before I can do anything to catch it.

I've heard of children seeing ghosts before, relatives they never met. Imaginary friends, as some call it. Of course, I've heard horror stories about this, but her seeing Eddy, her dead sister who she knew very well, and should very well know she's not here, even at her young age, makes my stomach curdle.

"Do you not like it?" She asks, crouching down and pulling the frame to her chest.

I shake my head, blinking back tears. "No munchkin, I loved it. I'm sorry I dropped it,"

I offer her my hand. She hesitantly hands me back the gift and I notice my hand is shaking as I take it.

But thank god for rock solid acting skills.