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Back Little Universes Save as PDF
Chapters (63)
  1. Title Page
  2. Copyright Notice
  3. Dedication
  4. Epigraph
  5. Part 1
  6. Mae
  7. Hannah
  8. 1
  9. 2
  10. 3
  11. 4
  12. 5
  13. 6
  14. 7
  15. 8
  16. 9
  17. 10
  18. 11
  19. 12
  20. 13
  21. 14
  22. 15
  23. 16
  24. 17
  25. 18
  26. 19
  27. 20
  28. 21
  29. 22
  30. 23
  31. 24
  32. Part 2
  33. 25
  34. 26
  35. 27
  36. 28
  37. 29
  38. 30
  39. 31
  40. 32
  41. 33
  42. 34
  43. 35
  44. 36
  45. 37
  46. 38
  47. Part 3
  48. 39
  49. 40
  50. 41
  51. 42
  52. 43
  53. 44
  54. 45
  55. 46
  56. 47
  57. 48
  58. Epilogue
  59. Mental Health Resources
  60. Acknowledgments
  61. DISCUSSION QUESTIONS
  62. About the Author
  63. Newsletter Sign-up

What have I done?

The tears come, and I can hardly see, hardly breathe.

The orchard is silent. The sun goes behind a cloud. My sister turns away from me.

“Mae.”

She keeps walking. Stumbles. Ben starts for her, but Nate holds him back.

“Mae!”

I scream my sister’s name. But for the first time in our lives, she doesn’t come when I call.

27

Mae

ISS Location: Low-Earth Orbit

Earth Date: 24 November

Earth Time (EST): 20:09

We make soup.

Aunt Nora and I. Baked potato.

The kitchen, the whole house, is silent. Just the sound of knives scraping against the wood chopping boards. Blades cutting into onion, potato. Water boiling. The gas flame hissing.

It is the last hours of my eighteenth birthday. We didn’t eat the cake. Or the ice cream. I did not open any presents. Or go to the Dresden Dolls concert.

I don’t know where my sister is. Not with Micah. He’s already at the airport. He wanted to stay, to try again, but Nate said no.

When I’m done making soup, I will go up to my room and I will lie down on my bed and stare into the dark until the sun comes up.

And I will wonder, for the first time in my life, if the social worker made a mistake.

Every time I picture my dad, his face is blurry now. What Nah said, what I know about him—the truth turned every memory of my dad into a watercolor that got left out in the rain.

I will never leave you, he’d said.

We searched for truth together. But he was lying all along.

“Did she know?”

My words peel at the silence, to the hurt underneath.

Aunt Nora’s knife goes still.

Then: She nods.

Is this what drowning feels like? Knowing your life is ending just before the dying begins?

“None of us knew … about the baby,” Aunt Nora says. “And from what Nate told me when you all got home today, it sounds like your father didn’t know, either. At least not before he left for the trip.” Her fingers tighten around the knife. “But your mom knew about … her.” My aunt’s voice breaks. “She thought this trip … she was hoping she could…” She shakes her head. “I told her not to go.”

I stare at the mounds of potato beneath my hands. The skin is still on because Mom says the soup tastes better that way.

Just how you like it, Mom.

“Nah said…” I grip a raw potato, squeeze. “She said maybe he didn’t try and save her. That’s why their bodies aren’t together. Because he didn’t … because…”

There’s a clatter as my aunt lets go of her knife and crosses to me. She grabs my shoulders.