The Sweetness of Salt by Cecilia Galante

when I need to think. It’s great.”
    I fell into step next to her, wondering when the topic of Maggie was going to come up. Should I say something now? Or wait until later, when we were alone in the house? I needed to do something. There really wasn’t much time.
    We made our way down the neat little street, past the library and a bookstore with two white cats sitting in the front window, past the church with its pale front doors and a Dunkin’ Donuts—all without talking. Finally, as we crested a small hill next to the high school, Sophie turned to look at me. “Feeling any better?”
    I nodded. “Yeah, much.”
    “Good. Fresh air is always the best thing when you feel light-headed.”
    We walked a bit more.
    “It really is a cute little town,” I said. “I like it.”
    “Me too.” Sophie sighed softly. “You know, I’d never even heard of Poultney until I saw the ad in the paper for the house. But when I came down to see the place, I just fell in love with the house and the town. I’m so glad I bought it.” She kicked a stone in her way, watching as it bounced and skidded along the road. “So how’re Mom and Dad?”
    I shrugged. “Call them. Ask them yourself.”
    She looked at me out of the corner of her eye. “Oh, we have this thing, the three of us, where we don’t talk for a while after a good fight.” Her tone sounded easy, bored even, but I could hear fragments of something else around the edges. “It always happens like this. We just have to let enough time pass until we forget what it was we were even fighting about, and then someone—usually Mom—calls again, and everything is forgotten and forgiven—even if it’s never mentioned again.” She lifted her arms straight above her and stretched. “I think the longest we ever went without talking was about eight months. It was right after Goober was born. I think I called Dad an asshole. Maybe even a fucking asshole.” She sighed. “It took him a while to get over that one. It just takes time, whatever it is. Always, always time.”
    “Don’t you think that’s kind of stupid?” I asked. “I mean, no offense, but why didn’t you just call and apologize to Dad for saying that, instead of wasting all that time not talking?”
    “Who said it was wasted time?” Sophie asked. “I don’t consider not speaking to them for eight months wasted time. It was actually a pretty good time, now that I think about it.”
    I shook my head, pushing down the angry annoyance inside me. It was a little after nine in the morning, but I could already feel the heat beginning to prickle the tiny hairs on my arms. The trees on either side of the street were a deep jeweled green. Small clusters of cornflowers and stalks of Queen Anne’s lace dotted the sides of the road, and the drone of summer insects murmured around us.
    “Listen,” I said, taking a deep breath. “I have to talk to you about something.”
    “Ahhh…” Sophie reached into her pocket and withdrew her cigarettes. “So there was another purpose to the trip.”
    “Sophie.” I said her name gingerly, as if it might break. “I know about…Maggie.” It felt strange to say the name, stranger still to imagine all over again that it had once been attached to a real person. A sister of mine. And hers.
    Sophie’s lips pinched the cigarette in her mouth. It was still unlit. She withdrew it carefully, staring at it between her thumb and forefinger for a moment, and then reinserted it once more. Cupping her hands carefully around it, she snapped open her lighter, held the flame to the tip, then placed the lighter back inside her pocket. A deep hit from the cigarette produced a yarn of smoke from her lips. Finally, she nodded. “Okay. Then they finally told you.” She studied something in the distance. “When?”
    “A day or two ago.” I tried to think back. “The night of my graduation. You’d already left.”
    Sophie nodded, inhaling deeply again on her cigarette.
    I waited, but she