Lenora didn’t say anything, only took a gasping breath and sniffed.
“My whole life she had gone and come back, gone and come back. When she was home, she spent a lot of time with me, even taking me up in her helo.”
“Her what?”
“Oh, helicopter. That’s what she flew for the Army.”
“Oh,” Lenora said, her voice quiet again.
“This time she didn’t come back,” James continued, “and it’s like it just didn’t compute. I keep waiting.” The image of the closed casket briefly flashed behind his eyes. “It’s been over a year, but I uh, haven’t cried. And if my dad has, I haven’t seen it. I don’t know if he really…sees me…anymore.” He took a deep breath. “So, yeah. I know what you mean about…feeling homeless.”
They sat there, listening to the breeze through the trees on the hillside.
“I kind of envy you,” Lenora finally said. “I get so tired of feeling so much. You don’t seem to feel much of anything.”
He looked away. “I don’t know if you should envy that.”
“What, you like feeling pain?” She sniffed, wiped her eyes and nose on her sleeve.
“No, but I miss feeling happy or…you know, alive.” He gazed at the moon.
“I don’t know, James. Maybe that’s better than a slow death.” She shivered.
“But that’s what I’m trying to say,” James went on. “I don’t remember if how I feel was slow or sudden, but I feel…you know, dead…inside.”
Lenora didn’t respond right away.
“Death…sucks,” she pronounced, staring at the stairs.
“Living’s worse,” James said.