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"I'll try."
"Fair." I offer my hand.
She shakes.
"My sister died by suicide."
"Shit," she mutters.
"Before… she was weird. Evasive. Pulling away. It felt like something was off, but I didn't say anything. I hid from it."
"Is that what happened with Imogen?" Her eyes go wide. "Did she tell you?"
"She hasn't told me anything."
"But you know something?" she asks.
Yes.
"How do you know?" She looks at me. "Did someone tell you?"
I don't want to lie to her, but I can't be the one to tell her either. "Let me start over."
She frowns but nodsgo ahead.
"I didn't give my sister space to talk to me. I abandoned her. I think she felt that. But Molly, our older sister, she pushed. And she felt that too."
"Okay…"
"You need to tell her you're there… when she's ready, and let her come to you."
She pouts. "This all sounds very mature."
"It can be."
"I don't like it."
"I know."
"Are you sure you don't want to tell me everything?" she asks.
"I am."
"But she freaked out the other day over something she found. And it was about you. It must have been about your sister."
Shit.
"Is that what happened with her, too? I know more than she tells me. She was depressed. It was obvious. I don't know how she thinks I didn't see it. I've seen her medication. And Mom… she thinks I don't understand Vietnamese, but I do."
I say nothing.
"Did she try? Is that why things have been so weird?"
"Julie—"
"She did, didn't she?"
"She hasn't told me that."
