Pulling back to allow her some space, I watch as she ties her shoes with a look of contempt. She stands and dusts off her ass. Ace is possibly the cleanest person I’ve ever met, especially when something is bothering her, and after the past couple of weeks, I’m sure her apartment has been scrubbed over many times. I can smell the faint traces of bleach in the air as proof.

Jameson drives Kendall’s car with Ace and me in the backseat. She sits with her hands knotted together in her lap and stares out the window. I consider reaching over to touch her, but she looks so closed off I don’t want to push her. Instead, I closely watch her out of the corner of my eye.

The car ride is silent, except for Kendall occasionally crying into a tissue or blowing her nose. I catch Jameson glancing at me periodically as we make the quiet trip. He’s nervous and twitchy, making his driving even worse, but neither of the girls says a thing. They’re lost in their own worlds, worlds that Jameson and I don’t fully understand the language, customs, or expectations of. As we get closer, Ace begins fidgeting, a telltale sign that she’s nervous, which makes it that much more difficult for me to not reach out and try to comfort her.

When we pull up to their house, Ace is the last to get out. She almost looks like she’s in physical pain as she walks toward the front door, and I feel my throat constrict. I don’t know if I’m feeling her pain or my own at this point. I just hurt.

I wrap my arm around her shoulders and feel her body tense below me, but she doesn’t make a move to get away from me as we reach the front door.

Kendall pushes the door fully open, and we all step inside, not sure of the proper protocols for this situation. I automatically notice that Zeus isn’t greeting us as he usually does, and I can tell Ace notices too as her eyes silently dart around.

“Kendall, do you recall that woman’s name that catered that charity gala you attended with me a couple of months ago at the museum? She made all those really delicious bite-sized hors d’oeuvres.” I’m shocked to hell when I see Muriel dressed in a skirt and blouse, her hair and makeup done.

I feel when Ace sees her. Her muscles become more strained and her hands ball into fists at her sides.

“Mom?” Kendall asks.

“Hi, sweethearts,” Muriel greets us. Her voice is slightly strained and her eyes avoid looking directly at us. I’m sure it’s because she’s on the edge of breaking, but seeing her fight to remain normal seems to make it even worse.

Jenny appears from the study and the sight of her face is enough to make anyone cry. Her chin trembles and her cheeks, which are stained with tears, grow a bright shade of red as she approaches us, seeking out her sisters. Kendall reaches for her and ties her arms around Jenny’s neck.

Hearing the front door open, I turn and see Kyle and Mindi walking in, both of them look exhausted and crushed. Mindi begins crying, it’s a ripping cry, like a feral cat. Kendall and Jenny react instantly, moving to her and all three embracing. Ace doesn’t turn to watch. I’m not sure if she’s seeing anything right now with the way her eyes are glazed over as she stares toward the kitchen.

“Oh, Ace,” Kyle says, looking past me.

I think he’s also sensing that something is eerily wrong with the girl he loves as a sister. He walks over to her, completely unfazed by her lack of acknowledgment, and wraps his arms around her. I feel a little better as I watch her barely tolerate Kyle’s affections.

Savannah and Caulder are the last of the family to arrive. Savannah starts explaining in a garbled voice about nursing and babysitters, which doesn’t fully make sense, but it’s irrelevant.

My mom comes over around nine. I can tell by her dazed expression that she must have just heard the news. Her eyes survey the house, looking more pained with each face she passes. When she finds me, she crosses the short distance and gives me a hug. “The hospital just called,” she whispers.

Abby and Jesse arrive within seconds of her, followed by Landon and Wes. Abby is like the sisters and doesn’t hesitate going to Ace, ignoring how her body folds further in on itself as she hugs her.

Adam, Ace’s Philosophy professor from last term, that began dating Jenny in December shows up shortly after, his hair still wet and his eyes anxious as he examines the mass of crying blonds. He’s been attending Sunday night dinners for the past couple of months, but I can tell he feels way in over his head by the amount of emotions erupting around us.

My mom tries to heat food, and follows behind Muriel, trying to assist her in organizing things. I still haven’t heard how David died. I don’t know how to ask. I’m not even sure if anyone even knows yet.

The guys and I take turns answering the door as flowers and food are delivered, accompanied by sympathetic smiles and waves. People offer to help in any way possible and inquire about how the family is doing. I can barely reply. I don’t know how the family is doing. All I know is something’s wrong, and I don’t know how to fix it or if I can.

The day is so long it feels as though four have been strung together. Many of the girls spend the day crying, huddled together in pairs of blond heads. Muriel maintains the same odd matter-of-fact aura about her that doesn’t seem fitting for her or the family as she wanders around, gathering things together, and calling people to schedule appointments.

Ace just seems distant and detached from everything. She cries a few different times, but never goes to anyone. Though, each time a matching blond head quickly seeks her out.

When night finally arrives, I’m not sure what to do. I want to be here for her, but I also don’t want to force anything on her. I recall my grandma telling me soon after my dad left that we all must deal with pain and loss, and that we each handle it differently, but we all experience it. I don’t want her to experience this alone.

Savannah and Caulder leave first after their babysitter calls. Mindi and Kyle aren’t far behind. Before they leave, each of them goes around holding one another for a prolonged moment, not speaking, just holding. Ace looks miserable. Progressively throughout the day, she’s become more and more reluctant to allow others to touch her, and by the time Kyle pulls away, I can sense that she’s reached her maximum allowance. Apparently Kyle does too because when he comes over to me, he places a hand on my shoulder and squeezes as if to silently wish me luck.

Adam is with Jenny and Lilly, watching a Disney movie in the den, and Jameson has already gone to Kendall’s room. Muriel seems to understand that the ‘no boys’ rule doesn’t apply after such a devastating event.

“We should let them get some rest. Why don’t we go next door, and we can come back tomorrow?” my mom suggests to our friends that have stayed to endure this hellish day.

“I want to help,” Abby says through fresh tears as Jesse pulls her closer to his side.

“You are, sweetheart, just by being here, you’re helping an insurmountable amount. But they need to rest,” my mom explains. She’s using her doctor’s voice. I know she’s had to deliver too many messages of bad news to families over the years and can see the pain of this loss on every inch of her, from her eyes that have remained laden with tears all day, to the deep frown that mars her brow and mouth, to her steady hands that never shake, which are now trembling.

“I’m going to stay.” My mom looks at me a moment and then nods. I don’t know what her expression silently tells me before she turns to leave. It was too brief and so many emotions were present, a single one was difficult to distinguish.

I head over to where Ace sits outside on the patio and place a hand on her knee as I kneel beside her. “I’m going to go get some sweats. I’ll be right back. Do you need anything?”