Page 8 of Blue in the Deep Blue Sea

He knew.

And I knew.

I didn’t move an inch. I handed him the letter, then pushed him away. A tear welled in his eye as his lips parted. His eyes moved over every word.

That Sunday changed everything.

Soon people came and left. Gabby came too.

She didn’t know. She came running toward me, a blue hydrangea clutched in her hand.

“Where is Sarah?” she asked. “I’m going to paint this flower with her today.”

She handed it to me, then looked around at the black veils before sitting beside me.

“My mother can’t paint today, Gabby,” I said, turning toward her. My eyes met hers, but I felt nothing.

“I can come back tomorrow,” she said, taking my hand.

“She won’t be able to paint tomorrow either.”

“Then I’ll come the day after tomorrow.” She smiled. “Or the day after that.”

“She will never paint again!” I shouted, shoving her away as I stood.

Her eyes dropped to the floor. Tears gathered beneath her lashes.

A moment later, she stood again. This time, I let her take my hand.

“She died, Gabby,” I whispered, staring down at my feet. “She left.”

A few tears splashed onto the marble floor.

They were hers.

She had lost her too.

“My dad used to say people who die become dreams,” she sniffed. “They come to visit us when we sleep. She’s just sleeping.”

“No, Gabby.” I wiped my eyes. “She’s dead.”

“Come.” She squeezed my hand. “Come to my house. I have a mom. We can share her.”

She lifted her pinky into the air.

I wrapped mine around it.

“Promise you won’t leave me.”

“I could never.” She pressed her thumb against mine.

“Promise,” I said again, my voice breaking.

“I promise.”

She took me home that night. Her mother was nothing like mine. She lived in a small apartment, nothing like our house, but I felt at peace because Gabby was there.

I met Gianni there too. We were the same age, and he understood what it meant to lose someone.