Page 86 of Tiger Lilies and Tight Ends

There’s only one person who I can talk to about this, someone who knows us both, but I fear he’s not going to be happy with me either. He said not to mess around with his sister, but I did anyway. There was no stopping it either. She is everything to me, and the way I crave her and need her outweighs my worry over him, thinking I betrayed him. I didn’t. I fell in love with her, and there’s a difference. Should I have told him sooner? Yes. I don’t know what I was waiting for, there’s never a good time for these things, but I need him now, so I suck up my pride and call him.

He answers on the second ring.

“I was wondering when you were going to call,” he says, there’s humor in his tone.

I let out a deep sigh. I haven’t even said anything to him, and I already feel better. “Lance, I need your help.” I lie back on the bed and stare up at the ceiling.

He’s quiet for a moment, and then he chuckles. “You know, I knew this would happen. I’ve known for years that the two of you would be perfect together.”

“What are you talking about? You’re the one who told me to stay away from her just a few months ago.” I hit the speaker mode for this conversation and toss my phone onto the bed next to me.

“Well, yeah. I was thinking that if I made her somehow off-limits or forbidden, it might flip a switch in you to see her differently.” There’s a whooshing sound of air behind his voice. I must have caught him while he’s in the car.

“I didn’t need to see her differently. I already saw her as perfect. It’s just . . . she’s your sister. At first, I didn’t want to do anything to jeopardize our friendship, but then it became about her, and, Lance . . . she’s all I see.”

“In what world would I think my best friend is not good enough for my sister? Ty, there is no one better than you, and I’ve been praying and counting down the days until this phone call came in.”

He thinks I’m good enough for her? My eyes burn again, and I rub my chest.

“Really?”

“I swear you are so dumb sometimes.” He chuckles again.

“Well, I’m about to double down on that assessment when I tell you what I’ve done.”

“Oh God.”

“Yeah.”

I replay the entire last week for him and don’t leave anything out. He listens to me and then asks a question that I never expected.

“Why does it bother you so much if someone takes a picture of things like your fish tank? I know that it stems from Marissa, but what’s the big deal?”

Eight-by-ten images from inside Marissa and her husband’s apartment flash through my mind.

“I’ve never told anyone this, not even my parents, but you know how Marissa went out of her way to do the things I like, align our interests, be manipulative in a way that would make me fall for her? Well, when I got called into the police station to confirm my statement, they had images from inside Marissa’s real place. The guest bedroom looked like something straight out of an obsessive stalker crime show. The walls were covered with images. There were so many of me, dozens inside my apartment that showed brands I liked, books I’d read, food I ate, all kinds of stuff. There were pictures of me outside places I liked to eat, stores I like to visit, how to get in and out of the stadium, a breakdown of my family history, and an entire section dedicated to all of my friends. You were on the wall, and so was Lily.”

“What?” His tone has changed. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

“Nope. Those police photos caused me more damage than Marissa’s emotional games. I don’t know how to explain it. Something about having your life on display like that, it’s so invasive and exposing, changes you. I’ve just never wanted another picture to be taken. Those are my things, and they’re not meant for anyone else to see.”

“I’m sorry, man. I didn’t know.”

“I didn’t want you to know. Rationally, I’ve always known that I wasn’t in any physical danger. This was strictly about the money, but irrationally, I’ve had a very hard time letting it go. I loved her, at least I thought I did, and that vulnerable feeling hit me hard last week. Lily . . . I just care for her so much, and I feel raw.”

I almost told him that I love her, but she deserves to hear it first. If I ever get the opportunity to.

“Did you ever talk to someone about this?” he asks, his tone deep with concern.

“I did. I almost quit football, but the team supplied me with a therapist who helped me through it.”

Dr. Schwartz-Fernandes. This man helped me, and I am grateful for him.

“I’m glad you didn’t. Football was always your dream.”

“Until your sister moved in.” I let out a deep, deflated sigh.

“Maybe you should revisit that guy as sort of a phase two.”