I yawn and slurp my cereal. “Yeah. It went fine.”
The cold kitchen tiles seep into my socked feet so I curl my toes around the footrest of my stool.
“So are you guys back together now?” Her voice thrums with tension.
“No.”
Somehow it doesn’t hurt as much as I thought it would to say that. Of course, if she called me right now, I’d probably fall over trying to get to my phone.
“She wasn’t ready,” I tell Amy. “And neither am I. It’s okay. It’s for the best.”
She pours her coffee, keeping her back turned to walk to the fridge to pour in some cream.
“Amy.”
For a second, I think she’ll leave. But she stops in the doorway of the kitchen and turns to face me. In this moment, I can’t believe I let anything come between us. She’s my sister, my best friend, my womb buddy. We have twin-stinct.
I will never let anything get in the way of this, of us, again.
She doesn’t say a word, her face resigned.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
She rubs her forehead. “I’m sad. I want you to be happy and if she makes you happy, then...” She shrugs.
“I thought you’d be happy,” I admit.
Instead of getting offended she shrugs again. “Me, too.”
I nod and take a deep breath. Since my conversation with Jeremy, I’ve needed to say this.
“I know that I haven’t been a great brother,” I tell her. “I know that you think that was because of Corrine. And I guess partly it was. But, I think maybe I was mad at you after Mom died. Maybe even before. And I know—”
I raise my hand to her because I can tell by the set of her mouth she wants to argue.
“I know that whatever I was mad about wasn’t your fault...that what I was mad about had nothing to do with who took care of Mom and who didn’t. It was...resentment. I think I was mad because it’s always been Amy and her brother, you know. We’re twins but we’ve never been equal.”
Amy’s face falls and she shakes her head but I push on. I need to get all of this out. “You are bright and funny and everyone loves you.” My chest fills with warmth just talking about my sister. Because all of this is true.
“I fidget too much and I look kind of weird...”
“Wesley.” Her voice cuts through mine, sharp. There are tears in her eyes. “I don’t want to hear you say stuff like this about yourself.”
I huff out a laugh and steel myself for what I’m about to say next. “I don’t want to think it about myself anymore either. You talked before about selling the house and as much as I don’t want to leave here, I think you’re right. It’s the right thing to do, Amy. But I can’t live with you anymore when we leave. I need to figure out who I amwithoutyou.”
“You—what?” Her face drains of all color.
She sets her coffee cup down. She wrings her hands together in a motion that is totally our mother’s.
“Wes, I’m sorry. I take it back. We don’t have to sell.”
“Amy. Come on. This is what you wanted. You can use your half of the money for the restaurant.”
“Well, where will you live?” She bites at her lower lip. “You don’t have a job and—”
“Amy,” I say. “You know, you can let me figure it out for myself.”
“I can...” She drops her hands and takes a deep breath, her shoulders rising and falling with the movement. “I can do that.”
