Wings of Boden by Erik S Lehman

then wheeled around and padded back.
    We stalled in the foyer, sat together on the
brick bench that encircled the giant bronze statue of a hawk—a long
ago gift from one of Dad’s friends. Standing like a folded-wing
sentinel, the statue faced the front, seeming to gaze out the foyer
windows and up to the distant Crag Mountains. Dad had named this
brick sitting area “the reflection bench,” a place to sit in
silence, a place to ask questions about life, or just vent. Over
the years, this bronze confidant had taken brunt of my worries.
    In the shadow of the hawk, I pondered, my
gaze going up to the cathedral ceiling. Thick beams, diagonal wood
slats. A ceiling fan dangled, blades turning slowly. I looked up to
the loft and saw the small desk by the railing where I used to
study. Bub sat on his haunches at our feet.
    “Angie, I need to talk to you about something
that’s been bugging me.”
    “Yeah. What is it?” She started petting Bub’s
head.
    “It’s just, well, it’s about Vyn. I’m
confused. Everyone keeps saying family and stuff like that. Just
assuming things. I’m wondering if we’re together just because we’ve
been friends for so long.” I paused for a sigh. “I’m not sure if he
really wants the family thing. I mean, did you see the look on his
face when Dad mentioned the new house? It was fear, Angie. Fear. To
see that look, it scared the flap outta me. I thought he was going
to run right then. My heart would’ve stopped, Ang, right there in
the den. My heart would’ve stopped.”
    Angie kneaded Bub’s floppy ears between her
fingers. “You’re imagining things, Ellie. He loves you so much.
There’s nothing to worry about. Right, Bubby?” She scrunched up his
lips in her hand, shook his head as if he was talking. “Dat’s wite,
Ewie, nuffin to woowy about. See, Bubby agrees with me.”
    “Well, why hasn’t he told me then? Every time
I say it, he just gets this nervous look on his face, sometimes he
says, you too , and that’s something, I guess. But my heart
just sinks. I won’t stop telling him. I can’t, that’s not who I
am.”
    She stopped petting, turned and arched
eyebrows at me. “He’s never told you he loves you? It’s been—
Source. I didn’t know that. It’s been years. Oh, Ellie, you must
feel—”
    “I do. It’s so hard to look at him sometimes.
All this love I have in my heart. I just need to know he feels the
same. But, I’m not sure anymore. I know it’s just three little
words, but, it hurts so bad when I tell him, and he just looks at
me.”
    She laid a palm on my knee. “He loves you. I
just know it. We all know it. That’s why we just assume. It must be
about his parents. That’s all it could be.”
    I dropped a sigh at the floor. “Yeah, you’re
probably right, but—” The dam broke on a burst of breath. “I’m
just, so, scared. I love him, so, much.”
    She folded her arms around me. I wilted into
my sister.
    Her gentle hands rubbed my back and wings.
“Don’t cry. I promise you, it can’t be what you think. It just
can’t. I know Vyn. He loves you more than anything. He’d die for
you, Ellie. He’ll tell you, I promise.” She paused. “Do you want me
to talk to him?”
    Into her chest, I shook my head no, her shirt
soaking up my emotions.
    Bub laid his head on my lap….
     
    ****
     
    About fifteen minutes later, we walked into
the kitchen to see the result of Dad fending for himself. The
granite counter and stainless sink held a hodgepodge of crusted
dishes, specked and splattered with blueberry. Dad had a tendency
to overindulge. As far back as I could remember, Mom had always
reminded him that there was more to being healthy than sweet: “Eat
your carrots or roots or lettuce, honey,” she’d say something like
that, or whatever happened to be on her mental list at the time. I
tended to side with my dad. Give me a bowl of berries over a carrot
any day. Raspberries had always been my favorite; a bowl of
raspberries with