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said.
    “I asked him.”
     
    The sky seemed to spin too fast,
    The stars blurred into streaks of light.
    Jesse said so many things,
    All of them swirling into the night.
     
    There’s nothing in Chicago for you, Elly.
     
    Find something—anything—you can do,
    And get out.
     
    I love Trav;
    He’s my cousin;
    But he’ll never leave this city.
     
    He’ll never leave his mom.
     
    He hugged me hard,
    Fierce.
    He left me standing on the roof
    Without saying good-bye.
     
    I thought I had another chance,
    Another morning to see him,
    Another moment to hold him close to my heart
    So he’d know how much his friendship meant to me,
    That I’d never forget this summer with him.
     
    The next morning,
    Before the sun rose,
    He was gone.
     
    His departure provided me with an example
    Of how to get out,
    How to move on,
    How to grow up and be your own person,
    No matter who your mom was,
    Or if your dad didn’t know you.
     
    I couldn’t help envisioning Trav doing that,
    Leaving,
    Moving on,
    Moving out.
     
    With me.

“I MISS JESSE,”
    I say into the empty space of the elevator.
     
    “Me too,” Trav whispers back.
     
    “I heard he made the minors.”
     
    “I heard that too.”
     
    I heard it from Jesse,
    Who texts me sometimes,
    When he isn’t busy at practice,
    Or work,
    Or with his online classes.
     
    I heard it from my mom,
    Who found out from Trav’s mom,
    Who had been in the hospital last week.
    Potential drug overdose.
     
    I want to bring that up,
    Want to apologize that I hadn’t been there for him,
    Want to talk through everything,
    But this silence is too peaceful to shatter.

THE DAY FOLLOWING OUR SHOPPING TRIP
    Honesty called,
    Screamed,
    Sobbed.
     
    The day following our shopping trip
    Travis broke up with her;
    She refused to come to my building;
    I walked to hers.
     
    The day following our shopping trip
    I took a roll of paper towels,
    A box of ice cream sandwiches,
    My best consoling voice.
     
    Inside, I rejoiced,
    Sang praises to the sky,
    Couldn’t wait to get back to the roof.
     
    “He didn’t even l—look at the dr—dress,” Honesty said,
    Tears pouring down her face,
    Hair spilling out of its ponytail,
    Hiccups echoing against the words.
     
    “Did he say why?” I asked,
    Though I already knew.
     
    If Trav had told her about us,
    She wouldn’t have called crying.
    She’d have called screaming,
    Ranting,
    Cursing.
     
    Or she wouldn’t have called at all.
     
    Honesty shook her head,
    Settled on her bed facedown,
    Cried for hours.
     
    When her parents got home,
    I escaped.
     
    I went straight to Trav’s,
    But heard the shouting before I knocked.
    I couldn’t make out the words,
    Couldn’t tell if Trav was angry or just frustrated,
    Couldn’t tell if his mom was wasted or not.
     
    Before I could leave,
    The door flew open.
    His mom stood there,
    One arm waving,
    Her voice saying,
    “Go on, then. Leave if you want.
    Leave!
    Just like your father.”
     
    I met Trav’s eye,
    Saw the twitching in his jaw,
    The resignation in his stature.
    Heard him say, “I don’t want to leave, Ma.”
     
    His mom didn’t look at me,
    Didn’t say anything else,
    Before bringing the door closed.
     
    Jesse’s words about Trav haunted me—
    He’ll never leave this city.
    He’ll never leave his mom—
    The same way Honesty’s sobs lingered in my ears
    The day following our shopping trip.

“YOU’LL NEVER LEAVE CHICAGO.”
    My voice fills the elevator,
    Chases away the silence,
    The comfort,
    The peace.
     
    “I don’t know what you want me to say, Elly.”
     
    “Tell me if Jesse was right.”
     
    Trav sighs.
    “About what?”
     
    “About you,
    About you never leaving this city,
    About never doing anything different,
    About never getting away from your mom.”
     
    “I tried to do something different.”
    He sounds defensive,
    Wounded.
    “I tried to do the right thing.”
     
    “So did I,” I say,
    Though he hasn’t exactly accused me otherwise.
     
    “She