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“You’ve been clean longer than her.”
“She’ll get there. And if she doesn’t”—he takes a breath, his eyebrows lowering like it pains him to consider it—“I will still be clean. You’re doing to her what everyone did to you during Dad’s trial.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I mentally remind myself to keep my voice down.
“You haven’t given her a chance or the benefit of the doubt. She hasn’t done anything wrong and yet you’re sure she’s going to. You’re betting on her to fail, and you don’t even know her.”
“And you do?” I let out an incredulous laugh.
“Yeah. I do. You need to trust me.” He sighs, sounding tired. “I’m taking meditation classes to help with the stress.”
He is? “You are?”
“They’re online, but yeah.”
“Oh. I thought you were listening to music.” Or sleeping. Every once in a while I’d notice him with a laptop on his lap, headphones on, eyes closed. I never considered he was meditating. I have been underestimating him. And, possibly, Dee.
“I’m not fifteen any longer, V. You can’t hold my money hostage until I reach a summit you’ve chosen for me.”
Then again, maybe I haven’t been underestimating him.
“It’s not your money.” I argue with that rather than the summit part. I realize a little guiltily I have been setting peak goals for him. Every day they are farther and farther out. “It was Dad’s money. Which means it wasn’t technically his, either.”
“Unlike you, I don’t care about its origin. There’s no sense in suffering needlessly. Dad’s dead. There are no more strips of flesh you can take from him. He’s gone.”
My lips compress. Why does it suddenly feel like everyone is ganging up on me?
“Can you be nice to her?” He picks up the bowl of lime wedges. “For me?”
I nod. Solemnly.
I follow him to the dining room and do my damnedest not to stomp. I would feel better if he were thanking me, but that’s about me too, isn’t it? Resigned, I settle into my chair and force a smile.
“Dee, what is it you do in Atlanta?” I ask.
“I used to write code for websites, but before I went back into rehab I started working on a horse farm and I really liked it.”
Really?I want to ask but don’t.
“That’s why Walt wanted to take you horseback riding,” I say instead.
“Yeah. I love horses.” She smiles.
“When you go back to Atlanta, will you live with your sister again, or are you planning on renting your own place?”
“Um…” She turns to Walt. He cocks his head at me.
I send a silent message to him that hey, I’m being friendly, here before I realize he has an announcement.
“She’s not going back to Atlanta.” He holds Dee’s hand on the table and dares me with his eyes to argue. “We’re getting married.”
I can’t breathe. My baby brother, who can barely care for a plant, is going to marry a girl from Atlanta who has been sober for a little over a month and loves horses? When I am forced to take a breath, lest I lose consciousness, I blow out, “Walt—”
“Congratulations,” Nate interrupts me to say. Under the tablecloth he squeezes my knee. “Sounds like you’ll both need to agree on an apartment.”
“An apartment costs money,” Walt points out again, his eyes never leaving mine.
“If you accept my job offer, you’ll have money,” Nate supplies.
