Broken Glass, Broken Hearts part 78

As we walked back to the house, Jake slowly moved closer to Milly, and by the time we reached Angela's driveway, he had his arm around her waste and her head was leaning on her shoulder, her eyes only halfway open. I was reminded again of the talent of not feeling awkward that I had not inherited from my mother as Angela and I walked behind our little siblings who were clearly showing PDA right in front of us. Angela, however, didn't seem to be bothered by it. She, in fact, was smiling as she watched them, and she leaned toward me and said, "I'm glad they found each other. I think he needed her." I was surprised, hadn't been expecting that. I smiled and looked at them, "Yea," I said, "she needed him too." Angela looked up at me and smiled, and then looked back at them as they opened the door and Jake held it open for us.

Angela took out all the food she had made and Jake and Milly quickly grabbed their plates, thanking Angela, and hurried up the stairs. Angela laughed and sat down at the table with me, handing me a plate covered in food. I laughed, too, and thanked her for the food. She nodded, smiling, and brushed her hair behind her ear as she pulled her chair in. As we ate our dinner in silence, her eyes sort of flitted around the room, and though every time she talked to me she looked stable, I could tell she wasn't. I couldn't conceive what it must be like, to lose someone as close to you as Dustin had been to her. If I lost Milly...I couldn't even imagine it.

I don't know why I suddenly missed Dustin so much. Maybe it had been the memory earlier, maybe it had been listening to the music she resented, maybe it had been describing her to Tyler. But now, as I sat there, I wasn't thinking about all I had in that moment. I was thinking of what was missing. And it was her. She was missing.

She smiled at me and we moved over the couches. We didn't talk, just sort of sat there and looked at each other, as if we didn't really have anything to say, but we didn't really need to say anything. It was nice, calming, though I could tell Angela was anything but calm. I wanted to wrap my arms around her, tell her it was all going to be OK, but I wasn't sure if that would do more harm than good. And then, as we sat there, Jake came downstairs. He said, "Oh, Angela, I forgot to tell you, I found this outside, it was blowing around. Looked like it had just escaped the recycling bin. Mom must have thrown it away, she always did hate it." He smiled widely at her, "You want it back?" He was holding a poster of a band I vaguely recognized, some music my parents had listened to sometimes when I was a kid. Angela had been on the brink of breaking. Right then, she cracked. But, like the sturdy vase that she was, she immediately, at least temporarily, repaired herself. "Thanks," she said, standing up and taking it from him. She smiled at him and he smiled back, running up the stairs, oblivious. I had known already. But as she turned, I sprung up, the look in her eyes, well-hidden as it might be, evident to me. I hurried over to her, grabbing her arms in my hands, "Come on," I said, and I brought her upstairs.

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