Matt & Zoe - Charles Sheehan-Miles Page 0,16

in the eye and said, “You know I just want you to have a good life, Zoe.”

“I do have a good life,” I said. Then I got in the car.

I didn’t tell my mother I loved her. Now I’ll never get the chance..

What should I say to Jasmine? How could she understand? I don’t even understand. I say, “That’s true. Mom and I fought a lot. I still loved her.”

She turns away, back to her task.

My shoulders sag. I need to talk to someone. A professional, or… or a mother. Because I don’t know how to help her through this. I don’t even know how to help me through this.

I blink back tears again and say, “I want you in by full dark, Jasmine. Okay?”

She shrugs.

“I mean it.”

Jasmine lets out a sigh and says, “Okay. I’ll come in when it’s dark.”

I stumble back toward the house.

Inside, Nicole has already cleaned up the table, except for Jasmine’s plate with its cold vegetables, and she’s hand washing the dishes. “Thanks,” I whisper.

“Is she okay?”

I shake my head. “No. I don’t know what to do.” After a few silent breaths, I tell her about the visit I’d received earlier in the day.

“The court’s appointed someone called a guardian ad litem… she came out today. Wanted to see the place, and interview me.”

“For the guardianship hearing?”

“Yeah,” I say.

“You don’t have anything to worry about.”

“I know… but… I worry anyway.”

Nicole looks out the window toward the stable.

“She’s braiding Mono’s hair,” I say.

Nicole shrugs. “Maybe that’s what she needs right now. But… Zoe? Can I suggest something without you getting mad?”

I raise my eyebrows.

“I think you should consider a therapist. Not just for Jasmine. For you.”

“What… I don’t need—”

The house phone rings, interrupting me. I stand there, mouth open, for just a moment. The phone rings again, a harsh ringing tone. My parents have had the same phone since the 1980s, an old Slimline phone mounted on the wall with a rotary dial in the handset, heavy enough you could use it as a weapon. I walk across the kitchen and snatch the phone off the wall.

“Hello?”

“Miss Welch?”

Without pause I say, “I’m sorry, Mrs. Welch passed away last week. This is her daughter Zoe.” I’ve already had to say those words to the cable company and a credit card company who called wondering why their payments hadn’t arrived on time. This week I need to sort out Mom and Dad’s personal effects and bank accounts and everything else. I’ve been putting that off for days and days. And I don’t have a clue where to start.

Not. One. Clue.

The caller coughed, then said, “I’m sorry… I know. Miss… Zoe… this is Matt Paladino.”

Matt Paladino? Who?

One second later it hits. “Oh! Mister Paladino! Hi, what can I do for you?”

“Well, I wanted to check in with you about Jasmine.”

“Okay. How have the last few days been?”

He stumbles over his words a little. “She’s—well—she—” He takes a deep breath, almost comical. “She’s not doing well. Just… listless. She’s not playing much with the other girls, and not as animated in class.”

I breathe out. Then I speak at a near-whisper. “Same as at home. She’s not interested in anything except her horse. I can’t get her to talk or play any games or eat.”

“What is she normally interested in?”

The question makes me want to lash out in frustration. I don’t know! How am I supposed to say that to a complete stranger? How am I supposed to tell a complete stranger, her teacher for Christ’s sake, that I don’t know much of anything about my little sister?

“Miss Welch? Are you there?”

“Please,” I say, grasping for time. “Don’t call me that. Zoe is fine.”

“Zoe… can you think of anything I can do here that might engage her?”

Nicole’s face tilts in extreme concern. Because of the tears. On my face.

“I don’t know,” I whisper. “You don’t understand… I’ve been away in the Army for five years. Since I graduated high school. No idea what she likes, or what she does, or what she’s interested in. I don’t know her favorite color or ice cream or anything except that damn monster horse.”

On the other end of the line, I hear his intake of breath, his intake of judgment. He doesn’t say what I might have expected. “Maybe that’s the best place to start then. With the horses. You know she draws them all the time. Especially a big black one. Or at least she did last year. We haven’t had many opportunities for