What She Left Behind by Tracy Bilen

that it no longer smells like him (sweat mixed with aftershave). It smells like the rest of the house, except the cigarette smell is less obvious since the door has been closed for months.
    Matt could have been a designer for T.G.I. Fridays—he had the weirdest, coolest collection of random objects hanging on his walls. First, there’s his collection of out-of-state license plates. His favorites had been Alaska and Maine—he went for the rugged states. Personally I like the one that says OKLAHOMA IS O.K. It’s kind of stupid, but you have to admit it has a ring to it. Then there’s a railroad sign that Matt picked up from an old crossing after they tore up the unused tracks. He mounted the muffler that fell off my mom’s old Chevy (before she bought the Ford) on the ceiling, and a surfboard hangs on the wall next to his bed. One of those mounted singing fish is by his dresser. I push the button, but nothing happens. I guess the batteries have worn out.
    My parents are shrine-keepers by default—my mom becauseshe doesn’t have the energy, and my dad because he’s pretending Matt’s still alive. Everything in Matt’s room is just as he left it, except for the dirty laundry. That’s been washed and put away. I look through the trophies on his bookshelf (soccer, soccer, and more soccer) and stuff from the plays he was in and ones that he had seen. Matt loved acting, loved pretending to be someone he wasn’t.
    I fan the pages of his books (mainly plays, including a few in Spanish) to check for papers. All I find is a baseball ticket for a Tigers game. Father’s Day. We went together. After it was over we ran the bases along with all the other kids and their dads. I think the Tigers lost, but I’m not sure. Soccer is the only sport I can stand to watch, and that’s only when Matt or Zach are playing. I check in all of the drawers but they just have Matt’s clothes.
    Mixed in with Matt’s coin collection I find a letter, but it belongs to Matt. From his last girlfriend, Shannon. He brought her over for dinner one Friday night. It must have been my mother’s idea. She tried her best to make us seem like a normal family. She made a beef pie. If we were a normal family, beef pie would be one of those special dishes that she makes for company. But since my dad doesn’t usually allow dinner guests, it always feels like her specialty for us.
    The conversation went something like this:
    Shannon: “My dad says your hardware store is really nice.”
    Dad: “Umm, Michelle, why are these carrots cold? And they’re still crunchy. You know I don’t like them that way. Put them back in the microwave.”
    Mom: “So, Shannon, you and Matt are in Spanish class together?”
    Shannon (looking at Matt with adoring eyes): “Yeah, it’s my favorite subject.”
    Dad: “A bunch of bullshit, if you ask me. How much of it can you learn in high school anyhow? Not enough to make any difference, that’s for sure.”
    Not enough to save your partner’s life? Is that what you really meant, Dad?
    Matt’s face had turned red but he didn’t say anything. Shannon had looked like she was ready to crawl under the table. They broke up the next week. I don’t know if it’s related, but it certainly couldn’t have helped.
    If there is any clue as to where my mom is, I finally decide it isn’t in Matt’s room. It’s getting late. My dad will be home soon, so I turn off the stereo and go to the kitchen to start dinner. I pop some fish fillets in the oven, then I turn on the TV and scroll through the list of recorded programs until I find yesterday’s Winds of Change . Julia is telling Ramón that she had a dream she had a daughter and that it seemed so real, it was like it had to be true.
    Good, Julia! She is real! Then Ramón puts on his sad face and tells her that, yes, they had a daughter, but she died in the house fire. Julia knots her brow in confusion. Don’t fall for it, Julia! He’s lying! Leave Ramón and go back to your