“The thing is, no one else in my life seems as messed up as I am. They’ve all been able to move on in some way. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’ve been so stuck lately.”

“Well, sometimes getting stuck is necessary. Without it, most people wouldn’t stop for long enough to really look at their lives. Everyone deals with loss differently. Just because you’re struggling doesn’t mean there’s something wrong with you. Maybe you’re the only person in your family who’s actually paying attention to what’s happening, instead of being in denial. Maybe you’re the only one who’s taking the time to deal with your shit.”

“I wouldn’t go that far.” She thinks of the centre of her left palm, her scar. “I’m definitely not the poster child for good coping skills.”

“Well, it’s hard to wake up every morning and remember that your brother took his life. It’s hard to face a life you didn’t want. It takes a lot out of a person.”

She stares into her cup.

“You aren’t weak, Kavita. You just have more to carry than the average person. That’s what you’ve been carrying: your brother.” The invisible weight crushes against her, as it has since she found out Sunil took his life, the only difference being, for the first time since it settled upon her like a burden, it wasn’t invisible, Hawthorn could see it, along with, she suspects, the shake of her joints. He could see her. “But you’re doing it,” he continues. “If that isn’t strength—if that isn’t hopeful—then frankly, they don’t exist. So, do me a favour and stop being so hard on yourself, okay? You’re being a real downer.”

She grins, faintly. His eyes are dark and soft and open. She sees something in them she has been searching for in everyone else she knows, but she can’t name it yet.

“I just wish it was over. I want to be on the other side of this. All figured out.”

“Who wouldn’t? But the thing is, you’re healing, even if it doesn’t seem like it. There’s a ton of stuff happening under the surface. Soon enough you’ll start to see little green shoots popping up from the dirt.”

“Are you comparing my life to dirt?”

“Hey, that’s where the story is, friend.”

“I should’ve known you’d say something like that. You know when I first saw you, I nicknamed you Granola Guy.”

“I like it.”

“Of course you do.”

They smile into their cups.

“You and Brenda impress me, though. You’re both so motivated to do important things. Most of the time, I feel like an Olympian if I manage to take a shower and cook dinner. If I wasn’t married, I probably wouldn’t even bother.”