“Look Tom, I didn’t expect you to be treated by someone who’s an addict himself. Someone who also doesn’t understand the importance of professional boundaries. Those are just a couple of red flags in what’s clearly a whole collection. You can’t tell me I’m wrong about that.”
Yosh crosses his arms tighter around his tensed body. I wish I could read him right now, figure out if he’s angry, hurt, or insecure. Probably all three.
Yosh starts to speak. “Okay. Call it unethical. You’re right. I also know those ethics you speak of aren’t exactly your concern. You prefer your own rules, your own values. So let’s be real with each other. I could have been anyone with any story, and you still wouldn’t want me for Tom. You don’t want anyone for Tom.”
The scoff is small, but it lands so incredibly wrong with Yosh who always tries to use calmness and diplomacy to solve things.
He shoots up from the sofa, the cups rattle on the table.
“It was you!” Yosh shouts, pointing straight at Jay. “He had to drown himself in drugs and alcohol because of you! You’re the reason he nearly died that day!”
Jay jumps up with the same energy. “How dare you! You have no fucking clue about me or my family!”
Meanwhile, like in a bad movie, my antique clock starts its hourly orchestra.
I dive between them, pressing a palm against each chest. “Stop! Both of you, stop!”
Both of them are quiet except for their ragged breaths.
I wait until five o’clock passes before I speak.
“Let’s not go there, okay? Me OD’ing that night was on me. My responsibility.”
I meet Yosh’s eyes, then turn to my brother. “And Jay, stop this. I’m feeling better now. I’m getting there.”
I reach for Jay’s hand, and as my fingers close around his wrist, something inside me crumbles. It brings me to the edge of tears.
“I’m in love with Yosh. Can’t you just accept us, please?”
I’m almost begging now. They don’t have to like each other; they just need to coexist for fuck’s sake.
Our eyes meet, and I hope, no, I pray Jay can feel everything I’m trying to send his way.
The years we spent surviving our childhood, the fame, the kids, Emily, the mess of us. Me losing myself and being so fucking unhappy for most of my life. I want it gone. It needs to be over and Jay needs to let me go.
And Jay sees it, I can tell. But he gives me nothing.
He throws his hands up, stepping back.
“Fine,” he says, offering a hand to Yosh.
Yosh looks at it, then at me. He hesitates for a second, and in that second there’s a sigh and he drops his shoulders.
He reaches out and shakes Jay’s hand. “Fine.”
I wait for both of them to sit back in their seats before I allow myself to do the same.
I pick up my cup and take a sip of tea.
Shit. It’s dropped below the perfect temperature. Jay downs it in one go.
“We need to finish packing. Our flight leaves in a couple of hours,” Yosh says. He stands and walks behind the sofa. His hand lands on my shoulder. I don’t need words to know what that means. Time to throw Jay out.
“Yes, of course,” Jay says. “But I need to talk to Tom for a minute. It’s about Effy.”
Yosh sighs and walks toward the bedroom, the thud of the antique door closing behind him leaving the two of us alone.
I turn to Jay. “What about Effy? I’m meeting her at the gallery to say goodbye.”
