Page 53 of Pining for You

At this, she legit cackles. “Ahhhh, good one, B,” she says, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye. I frown, but she continues. “Even if I didn’t have to stay and work, which I do, I don’t think my poli-sci dropout ass with my blue hair and bartending credentials is exactly Evans party material.”

It’s my instinct to say, Of course you would! They’d all be so happy to see you! But I pause because I don’t actually know if that’s true. Izaac did say she was basically excommunicated.

It seems so unfair to punish her for following her heart.

I’m glad she and Izaac seem to have at least gotten their stories straight. She looks back at him now, and I wonder if she’s thinking the same.

“But I am so grateful Z has you guys to keep his spirits bright. I know he’s dealing with my parents, and he puts so much pressure on himself. I worry about him, so… the fact that he’s surrounded by such good friends—that is a gift to me since I can’t be there.”

I never thought about it that way, that the bond between us all as friends might be meaningful to other people who care about us.

“Well, I can’t imagine us without him,” I say. “We’re family.”

Audra looks at me now, like she’s about to say something I should take note of.

“It’s so important to have that with your friends, especially as you get older… Ya know, since families can be so complicated sometimes.” She lets out a thin laugh, tinged with heartache, then turns more serious when she adds, “Which I’m guessing you know pretty well too.”

I chew my lip now. Audra and Michelle were in the same grade and had mutual friends in high school, so she probably knows what’s gone on since they graduated—the Ripton rumor mill has reach—but it’s still uncomfortable.

“How is your sister?” Audra goes on. “If you don’t mind me asking…”

I sidestep a puddle, reflecting a wavy red neon Budweiser sign from a bodega window along with a string of white Christmas lights hung from the awning.

“I don’t mind,” I say, but the answer is a reflex. That’s the expected response to that question, right? Even if it’s not the one I really mean. It’s not that I think she’s being nosy or malicious or anything. But for one thing, I don’t really know the answer. My mom seems to think Michelle is doing great, but I’m not sure I trust that assessment. Naomi said the same thing last time too, and then Michelle relapsed. And while I appreciate that Audra is giving me space to talk about it if I want, it also seems like everyone is only ever concerned with how Michelle is doing, never how I’m doing. Especially my mom. But I don’t want to say that, because it might sound childish or selfish.

When I haven’t elaborated after a moment, Audra reads my silence. “Sorry, I know that’s a tough question to answer,” she says. “Sounds like she went through it.”

“Mm,” I murmur, eyes still trained on the sidewalk.

“Which… I’m guessing means you have also been going through it.”

Now I look up, because it’s like she read my mind. Audra squeezes my shoulder and then suddenly, there’s a shift—from not wanting to talk about it at all, to pretty much letting it all spill from my mouth at once. I start rattling off the details like a fire hose because it’s easier to get them out that way.

“Yeah,” I say. “She’s in a halfway house now. Except it’s a farm, not a house? Because she was addicted to these pain pills. So I don’t even know…”

I pause because it feels like everything is coming out kind of backward.

I try to organize my thoughts, because now that someone really is asking about me, apparently I don’t even know how to answer.

“But, yeah. I guess it hasn’t been great… for me,” I start. “Sometimes I’m mad, sometimes I miss her… Sometimes it’s both.”

“That makes sense,” Audra says. “A sibling is a big part of your life.”

“I guess she was always kind of my hero, ya know? Like, I just wanted to be around her. But at the same time, she was, like, my biggest fan. She was always the one who told me I should follow my dreams. She made me promise that I would take her to the Oscars as my date, even though I told her I didn’t think they gave Oscars for Christmas rom-coms.” The memory pulls a crooked smile out of me, and I tug my hat lower as the precipitation picks up. “She even turned her closet into a theater one time so we could have a Christmas movie marathon. And she was the first person I told I was gay. And when I was a little kid, she used to do this thing where she would put my hair behind my ears when she knew I was scared about something.”

Now that it’s late afternoon, the darkening sky transforms the whole vibe. We pass a record store and the window glows amber, giving shoppers an alluvial aura as they flip through slow media selections. Then there’s a café. Through windows with snow-gathering corners, the outside world can glimpse patrons with laptops and paper cups, sheltered from the elements.

“But… then she was getting bullied in middle school, and after that something shifted. And she started to get mean at home. Like, really mean. The things she said to me…”

I don’t say them, because I never want to relive any of it. The way she told me I was a loser. That I would never have any friends. That I was delusional to think I was ever going to be able to make movies. Sometimes, I thought she was trying to toughen me up, make me realize that the world might not be as kind as we thought—something she was learning. Other times, I wondered if she was just in need of someone to take her pain out on—the bullied becoming the bully. I was an easy target.

Audra puts a hand on my shoulder, and brings me back to the present.

“You don’t have to go there, Bennie,” Audra says. “But that’s all really tough. Have you been in touch?”

“No. Well, she sent me her amends letter, if that counts. Again. I don’t know if I’m going to answer. I just feel like… we already went through all this. What makes it any different now?”

Audra pulls her coat tighter, and it takes her longer to answer this one. “Your sister… she was always a good person. Always really cool to me even when other people weren’t,” she says.