“Why are you so upset about this?” I try to keep my voice low and shove the toothbrush in my mouth, missing my teeth completely and almost choking myself on it.
Amy watches me in the mirror as I gag and splutter and finally, like nothing happened, begin to brush my teeth.
“I get home at half past eleven, Wes. And you weren’t here. You’realwayshere. You’re dependable like that. I can set my watch to you. This thing you’re doing? It’s not dependable and it’s not like you.”
She steps into the bathroom, standing just behind me, meeting my eyes in the mirror as I brush, spit, repeat. Her tone softens, turns questioning. “A few weeks ago you hated this woman.”
“I never hated her,” I mumble around the foam in my mouth. “I strongly disliked.”
It’s only a little bit of a lie. I hated the things she made me do, and sometimes I felt a deep sense of resentment. I don’t know if hindsight is clouding my judgement or not but I’m certain that I never hated.
“Well, you never made that clear to me.” She points to her chest. “You made me hate her, too. And now I’m supposed to accept that you’re, you’re...”
Her mouth crinkles until she spits out, “Fucking.This is a huge risk. For you and her. I just... I think you’re making a bad decision.”
The way she says this, with her arms crossed over her chest, the finality in her tone, it makes me feel like she’s made a decision for me. If she doesn’t like it, then I can’t like it either.
Most of our relationship has gone this way. Wherever Amy leads, I follow, because she’s never steered me wrong and it’s usually the direction I want to go anyway.
But not this time. Resentment falls like a rockslide, for my sister and all those other decisions I let her make for me.
I rinse my toothbrush and my mouth, wash the toothpaste off my hands to give myself some time. “Last time I checked I never asked you what you thought.” The way my voice sounds—I’ve never talked to my sister like this before. But I can’t have this conversation with her right now. Not when I can still smell Corrine on me. Not when my skin still burns from her touch. I take a deep breath as I dry my hands on the towel, taking care to wipe both palms and each finger.
“I know,we know, it’s a risk. And I’m sorry that I never told you enough good things about her. That’s on me. But right or wrong, it’s not yourdecision to make, Amy.”
I turn to face her. “You’re right about one thing, though. I’ve always been dependable. I’ve always taken the safe route. And look where it’s got me.” I fling my arms out to my sides.
“I’m twenty-five years old. All our friends are moving on with their lives. Every other intern in this program is younger than me. I’m living in my mom’s house with mysister. You’re starting a business and I just get coffee.” She flinches and even though I’m mad at her for meddling, my heart aches to know I’ve hurt her. I blow all the air out of my lungs, grab my hair and pull.
“I’m tired of being the person you can set your watch to, Amy,” I say, quieter. “And I’m tired of you always riding in to save me. Have you ever considered that Iwantto take a risk? Instead of letting things happen to me all the time, I’m finally making something happen. Besides, this is not an affair. No one is cheating on anyone.”
Amy says nothing for a while, just shakes her head. “You know what I mean, Wes. Not a cheating affair. Aloveaffair. Asecretaffair. Secrets push people together and they push people apart. I don’t want you to get hurt.” She hugs her arms tighter around herself. “Besides, what would Mom think?”
“Seriously?” I turn toward the toilet and flip up the lid. “I hope Mom would have no opinion whatsoever about my sex life. Now, are you going to shut the door or do you actually want to watch me take a leak?”
Amy’s eyes narrow. “Just think for a second about what you’re doing. Ever since you started working there it’s not just your relationship with your boss that’s been questionable. You’ve been a shitty friend. You’ve been a shittybrother. Where have you been, Wes? You never want to see anyone. You missed your own birthday party.”
I close my eyes as a hammer starts to pound behind them. “You know why I missed that,” I say through gritted teeth. “I said I was sorry.”
She’s quiet long enough that I think maybe I can open my eyes. Maybe this conversation is over.
“What about the house?”
My head falls forward, my chin to my chest. I love my sister but right now her voice is the last thing I want to hear.
“What about it?”
“I think we need to make plans.” My eyes are still closed but I can tell from the change in her tone she’s reached decision-mode. She says “I think,” but Amy knows exactly what she wants to do.
“Don’t think I didn’t notice you changing the topic the other day over breakfast. We need to make an appointment with the lawyer and call a real estate agent to come take a look at the house and—”
“I’m not ready to sell the house, Amy,” I say, but I’m so quiet I’m not sure she hears me.
“I know you don’t want to move but sometimes we have to make sacrifices.”
Maybe it’s her tone. Or the way she sayssacrificeslike she can proselytize to me about them. Maybe it’s that I’ve reached the end of my patience for this conversation. Or maybe this has been twenty-plus years in the making.
I turn to her.“Stop!”I yell and that one word, the volume, the way it rips from my mouth, seems to send her back into the hall.
