Chapter 10: The Porch

Elliot's POV

I had been on Annie's porch since noon.

I knew the boards.

The third step still sagged where her father had stood on it to fix the gutter when we were nine.

The porch swing was gone, and the hook was still in the ceiling.

I sat on the top step with my back against the front door and a bouquet of white roses on my knees.

It was Wednesday.

She had been dead for four days, and I had not been able to say the word out loud.

Nobody had called me about a funeral.

Nobody had called me about anything.

I had called Mrs. Finucane a dozen times on Sunday and twice on Monday, and the line rang out.

I put my forehead against the wood of the door.

"Annie," I said.

The street was quiet.

"You remember the eleventh grade midterm?"

"Our teacher gave us the wrong date, and you stayed up all night helping me cram, and you were the one who passed."

"I came out of that room and you were laughing so hard you had to sit on the curb."

"I told you I'd marry you."

My voice cracked.

"I was sixteen and I said it like a joke, and you said, 'Ask me when you have a ring.'"

I took the folded photo out of my wallet.

It was soft along the creases.

She was nineteen in it, squinting at the sun, with a tomato in one hand.

I had carried it through three apartments and two countries.

I had never once admitted why.

"I kicked your chair," I said into the door.

My throat closed up, and I made myself finish it.

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