She wasn’t sure what it said about her or them that nobody had tried to communicate.

She had no excuse social media could reconnect just about anyone at any time.

She and Marco had been good friends then, but she hadn’t kept up with anyone from high school. She remembered Marco going out of his way to try to include Denny, Marco’s admiration wrapped in disappointment, his slow slide into embarrassment. Denny had been the weird older brother who was always there when their friends hung out at Marco’s back in high school, always lurking with a notebook and a furtive expression. The first part was a lie, the second part true. Denny was nice to me,” Stella said, and then added, “But I’d be doing it to help you.” I’ve got to get home tomorrow and you could use help.” Marco’s husband, Justin, elbowed Marco in the ribs. It’s been thirty years since you saw him last.”

Those were the things Stella thought about after Denny died, and those were the reasons why, after eyeing the four other people at the funeral, she offered to help Marco clean out the house. The kind they made documentaries about, the kind people staged interventions for, the kind people made excuses not to visit, and who stopped going out, and who were spoken of in sighs and silences. In his last years, Marco’s older brother Denny had become one of those people whose possessions swallowed them entirely.

Two truths and a lie by sarah pinsker