Excerpt: Spilled Milk

"What are we having?" I asked.

"Spicy carrot soup," Manna said and put the steaming pot on the table.

"Yummy!" Lissa said enthusiastically.

Manna added a basket of bread and gave me a sad smile.

"Willan used to like it," she said.

"I like it too," I said quickly.

I'd much rather have had a three-day conversation with Lissa about my unhappy dating history than talk about Willan for three minutes.

"Have you heard from him lately?" Lissa asked.

Invisible punching fist, where are you?

"No," I said. "If he'd suddenly turn up after nine years of absence, you'd probably hear of it."

Or not. I had no idea what I would do if Willan came back. Whether now or after another ten years.

"I don't understand how someone can just leave and never come back. Not even write a postcard to say he's okay or anything. I don't get it. I mean, he's like your brother, right?"

"He's not my brother," I said and concentrated on the plate of hot, orange soup before me.

Willan was my uncle but, thanks to a huge age difference between him and my mother, he was only five years older than me.

"But you grew up like brothers."

I shrugged and nodded.

"So..."

"So what?"

Perhaps the fist should have punched me occasionally. I didn't know when to be quiet either.

"He's my age and yes, we grew up together. But he's still my uncle. And he's still gone. And no, he hasn't sent any postcards lately. Can we drop it now?"

"Sam-Seris, aren't we crabby today," Lissa said.

"Leave him, Lissa," Manna said gently. "It's not easy for him. We don't understand it either. There was no reason for him to leave, and there's no reason for him not to come back. We don't understand it..."

Perhaps Manna didn't. Nor did Dad or Day. Lissa most certainly didn't.

But I did.