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She shook her head. “No. You were the first friend I ever had, Lachlan.”
He was her only friend. His brothers were friends, too, in fairness. She cared about them a great deal, and sometimes she felt like she might be part of their whole family. Which was a very good feeling indeed.
But no one else was Lachlan.
“Oh.”
“What about you? Tell me about your fifth birthday.”
He chuckled. “I don’t remember it. Honestly. We didn’t get birthday parties. So I can’t say I really remember turning five, because we didn’t mark it with anything. I think I maybe knew it was my birthday, and I imagine some kids wished me a happy one at school.”
They knew each other. They had for a long time. So they didn’t have “getting to know you” conversations, and just then she realized that meant there were certain things they hadn’t talked about. Ever.
“I wished that I could go to school,” she said. “I knew about the schoolhouse, and it made me feel so sad that I couldn’t go.” She looked down at her bread. “I mean, I loved spending the days with my dad, and I value the education that he gave me, which was so hands-on and rooted in nature. We would take hikes and he would show me which herbs were edible, and which plants could be used for medicine. We would sit out by the lake and work together. We read books and we talked about history and scientific discovery.” She frowned. “I’m glad that we had that time.”
“But you were lonely.”
“Yes. He would hate to know that, because I knowhewas lonely. But I think because of that he never wanted me gone.”
“He didn’t really know your mother.”
“No. He didn’t. He knew... He knew who she was. But...” Her throat got tight, and she suddenly wished that she had been braver when he’d been alive. That she would’ve asked him more. Because now she was hungry to know the answers. Answers she could never have now.
“I don’t know how they met. I don’t know how my father, my sensible, socially awkward father, got himself into that kind of relationship. I don’t know if he thought he was in love. I wish I did. I wish I had the whole story. Because I didn’t ask for it, now I’ll never know.”
“I’m sorry,” he said. “If it makes you feel better, most of the truths about my family are a mystery. Did my mother ever love my father? And if so, why? Did he ever think he loved anybody, and if not, why the hell did he get married? Why did he have so many kids? Did he like hurting people, or no? Did he wish that he could be better? Or did he hate us? I don’t know the answer to that. I’m not sure that I want to. But I do know what it’s like to have mysteries hanging over you that you won’t get the answers to.”
“I’m sorry,” she said. “Those are very heavy questions.”
“Well, it doesn’t have to be like that. You just move on with your life, right? That’s what I’m doing.”
“If you can’t tell me about your fifth birthday, then tell me about a good memory from when you were a child. You must have at least one.”
He smiled, and there was something about that smile; something that took her insides and tilted them just slightly. It was a real smile. Genuine. Lachlan smiled all the time, but the thing was... It didn’t reach deep. Lachlan smiled because he wanted to pretend he was happy. All the time. But she knew that his actual happiness was a whole lot more sparse.
But just now it was real. The happiness was real.
“Gus used to put me on his shoulders and run me around. I’m only four years younger, but you know he... He really took being our older brother serious. He looked out for us. Gus is my happiest memory.”
“I’m glad that you had him.”
“When I imagine him, it’s from before the fire. Before he got burned.” His smile slipped then. “He was trying to protect me. That day. My dad would’ve killed me... He...”
Her chest seized up.
“I know that your childhood was really tough. I know that nothing makes up for that. But isn’t it wonderful that you have a brother that loves you enough to... He would have died for you, and he would’ve done it without being sorry.”
He nodded slowly. “It’s why I try not to run around being sorry for myself. Gus doesn’t deserve that. He doesn’t deserve me moping around about what I don’t deserve. He went through all that for me. I can’t dishonor him. It’s a shitty tribute.”
Their salads came, and they distracted themselves with that, followed shortly by the main course. Lachlan had gotten the steak, and she dug into her pasta happily. It gave them a slight break from the unexpected intensity of small talk.
She’d thought small talk was supposed to be easy.
“Are you thinking you might have dessert this evening?” the server asked.
“Two flourless chocolate tortes,” Lachlan said.
When they were put in front of them, she smiled, her fork poised above the dark confection. “To Dad,” she said, taking a big piece off the side.
