“Yeah, about that,” she said. “I think you really need to talk to Dad about this whole family business thing.”
I felt myself go cold all over. It was like déjà vu; a flashback to my fight with Morgan. Maybe a bit more tender, a bit less loaded, but the same damn thing over again.
“What are you talking about?” I asked, giving her the opportunity to sayanythingexcept what I knew she would. What Morgan had tried saying to me, too.
“Your heart’s clearly not in it,” she said, moving to sit next to me, “and I really think you need to consider bailing out.”
I swallowed hard, my mouth going dry. “Amy, I don’t wanna?—”
“I know,” she said, putting her hands up. “But honestly, I’m really worried about you. Your horoscopes have been terrifying for weeks. And every time something bothers you, you just gaslight yourself into being okay with it. It’s disconcerting.”
I shook my head, desperate for her to drop it. “You don’t have to worry about me.”
“And yet I do anyway,” she said. “Because you’re never going to be happy doing this. Even once Dad retires, do you think he’s gonna leave you alone? Do you think you’ll ever be able to change things to the point that you don’t hate it anymore?”
I opened my mouth to disagree, but we both knew she was right. I’d imagined it before: taking over the business in name only, Dad still calling all the shots from behind the scenes.
“You’d just be his puppet,” Amy said.
“His support character,” I said quietly.
“Sure,” she said, confusion passing briefly across her face. “Whatever that means. But either way, it’s not fair to either of you. You’ll end up resenting him, and he’ll be bitter with you. And Mum and I will be stuck in the middle as always.”
I sighed again, resting my head back against the cushion. “You’ve always been so much better with him than I am,” I said. “Why couldn’t you be the joiner in the family?”
She laughed. “You say that as ifyou’rethe joiner in the family.”
I narrowed my eyes at her.
“You’re not,” she insisted. “You never have been. You’re good at it, yes. Of course you are. Just look at this place.” She held out her hands, gesturing to the house. “But we both know it’s not what you want to be doing.”
Again I opened my mouth to protest, and again she cut me off.
“Don’t make me get that damn magazine.”
The moment she mentioned the magazine, the thoughts of Morgan I’d been holding back all day came flooding in like a dam had burst. I remembered her standing over by the table, looking at the advert. How terrified she’d looked when we heard about Fatima and Jared, as if she knew what it would mean. Her gasping at me at the gala, like I’d just slapped her. Her asking me in her lounge how I could expect her to commit to me if I couldn’t even commit to myself.
“Just fuck off, Amy,” I said, standing suddenly. She startled backward in surprise, pressing herself to the back of the sofa as I stormed past her and to the back door. I flung it open, my steps splashing as I walked to the edge of the deck, my t-shirt almost instantly soaking through. I felt like I was about to explode; like the pressure inside me was reaching a bursting point, and I needed to do something. Anything.
“Fuck!” I yelled at nothing in particular, causing two ducks and a pigeon to take flight.
I looked down at the raindrops on the water, which for some reason made me think of Morgan, too, because it seemed everything did these days. I thought of all the times I’d been on the river with her: that first swim on our weekend away, her first time kayaking, a nighttime swim in the nearby forest that had turned into skinny dipping, and then to making love against a tree … it all felt so real, so tangibly close, and yet so far away. And the space between here and there – between what I had and what I’d lost – felt like a screaming chasm in my chest.
My breath grew fast and shallow, and before I knew it I was crying, despite my best efforts to keep it at bay.
How had I let it all slip through my fingers so easily? I’d had exactly what I’d wanted, and she’d beenmine. She hadn’t chosen to leaveme, just to leavehere. I’d been the one to draw the line, to give the ultimatum, despite having told her all those weeks ago that she should do whatever would make her the happiest. I was the villain in my own fucking story, and I hated myself for it.
“Jack?” came a quiet voice from behind me.
But I didn’t turn around, instead sinking to the deck right where I stood, rain be damned, wrapping my arms around my legs, drawing them to me. I buried my head there so my little sister wouldn’t see my tears, but she came up behind me anyway. Instead of trying to hug me, or shush me, or anything like that, she just sat on the deck, her back to mine, holding me up whilst I held her up in return. She leaned her head against me, her cheek resting on my shoulder blade, whilst I cried quietly into my knees.
“I really fucked up,” I said after a while.
“Phil told me you guys broke up,” she said. “Do you wanna tell me what happened?”
I sighed. “She’s taking a job in York, apparently.”
“Wow,” Amy muttered. “There must be something in the water.”
