We Didn't Make It After All

Chapter Four

"So what brings you to Holden in the middle of the semester, Micah?"

He smiled cheekily, ruffling his baby sister's hair. He looked like her, but more carefree, like he was equipped for any adversity the world had to offer. "Her."

"Seriously, Micah?" she groaned. She shook her head and handed him a beer. "Micah's doing an externship in Holden. Pro bono stuff with his firm. Won't tell us anything about it."

"Client attorney privilege," he said simply.

Bella rolled her eyes. "You're not even an attorney yet."

"Is it too late to change course?"

"Micah!"

"What? It's an absolute pain, going through cases and statutes. And you'd think we get paid for going through the torture."

"You're being paid with experience."

"I guess."

"Why are you doing it then?" I asked him. "I mean, if you hate it so much."

"Because I care about people," he answered, meeting my eye once again. "And because someone I love very deeply may be in danger."

Bella bit her lip. "Elephant in the room much?"

"I don't think he wants to talk about it, Bella."

She rolled her eyes, standing up from her chair. "It'll be a miracle if he opens up about anything. I'm going to go make some tacos. You guys hungry?"

Micah shook his head while I said "No thanks" at the same time.

"Knowing you, you're going to make them anyway," he said in amusement. And he was right. We ended up accompanying her to the kitchen, Micah and I. They were a wonderful team, Micah chopping up the ingredients while Bella fixed tortillas from scratch. As they put the tacos together, I finished what remained of my beer. They were done not much later, Bella pridefully balancing two trays of tacos on her arms. "Voila! Which one do you want, Narnie? There's fried shrimp and there's beans, in case you're a madman like Micah and don't eat meat."

"Haven't sworn off meat yet, but I'll take the beans."

"Good pick," Micah said, handing me a tray of red bean tacos.

I smiled at Micah before digging into my tacos. The day unraveled like most nostalgic days do, with an arresting urgency and fleetingness. Before we knew it, Micah, Bella and I had left their kitchen for greater adventures in Port Orion. Micah drove us to a lakeside to watch the setting sun. As the lakewater lapped behind us, we formed a circle on a patch of nearby grass.

Micah was studying law to become a human rights lawyer. Like my mother, he wanted to devote his life to fighting for the powerless—and Bella was just as much of an idealist, hoping to one day become a developmental economist. She wanted to work in the Congo and stop foreign corporations from harvesting blood minerals for overseas consumption. We were all preoccupied with things bigger than ourselves. That only brought us closer together.

Micah was especially reserved around his baby sister, so she compensated by filling in his silence with her musings. "I feel like I'm trapped in time," she would say.

I did too, in many ways. I was trapped in late August, sobbing violently into my pillow as Mama waited outside my locked bedroom door.

Around us, widely spaced lavender trees formed the perimeter of the lake. The familiar faces of Holden's football team formed clusters around us, chilling their Stellas on the icy water while their friends exploited them for an occasional can or two. The evening was buzzing with conversations when the deafening noise of a motorcycle illuminated the vicinity. I whipped my head sideways—and I saw him.