THIRTY-ONE
Mia
“I love Elias,”I whisper to him on my third day in his apartment.
“What the fuck? Still?” my brother answers. “How? When? Why?”
I snuggle back into the Mourning Nest I’ve made out of his giant new couch and every extra comforter and blanket and pillow he has in his giant fancy apartment. I’ve been nested here since Friday, going home once with Leo to grab some clothes. Untangled them from piles on Elias’s bedroom floor.
I close my eyes.
“Hello?!” he yells. “I can still see you,” he reminds me.
“I love him,” I tell him again.
“Stop fucking saying that and start from the beginning, please?”
“Long ago, twenty-nine years to be exact, a little girl was born to Molly and Joe Roberts, in a faraway land known as Princeton, New Jersey. In the neighboring castle, a prince?—”
“Meems,” Leo says impatiently. “How did it start?”
I blow out a breath. “I don’t know exactly. Probably at the beginning of the school year. When we went to the conference.”
“When you said he was helping you get laid?”
“Yeah,” I say, not loving having this conversation with my brother. “It… escalated quickly from there.”
Leo looks pissed. “I told him to back off then. Sounds like he did the opposite.”
“It’s not his fault. I pushed him into it.”
“He could’ve said no.”
“Well, he didn’t. And that’s part of the reason why I love him.”
Leo frowns.
“I’ve been dismissed my entire life, Leo. By everyone. Mom, dad. You, to a certain extent. Strangers. He’s the first person… well, at least outside of work, who’s ever seen me as an adult with legitimate wants and needs and opinions. I’ve always been second best.”
“I told you that I was sorry, Mia?—”
“Especially with Mom and Dad and you. I’ve lived in your shadow forever,” I inform him. “God, you even listened to your fucking girlfriend of two seconds before listening to me for twenty-nine whole fucking years. No one ever recognized my accomplishments. No one except for Elias.”
Leo picks at the edge of one of the blankets.
“That’s not all he did. He’s… given me confidence. I don’t feel like an insecure wallflower anymore.” I pause. “That’s not true. I still do, but less so. I’m getting better. I can stand up for myself. I take up space in a room. I can get people to see me.
Leo’s still picking.
“This isn’t a new phenomenon, either,” I inform my older brother.
He looks up at me.
“He’s done this our entire fucking lives for me. He saw me. He sees me. He listened to what I had to say. He forces me to be better, stronger. He wouldn’t just… dismiss me.” I tear up again. “Well, at least until this weekend.”
He’s silent for a while. “Was it really that bad for you?” he finally asks.
I eye him. “It wouldn’t hurt you to be a little introspective right now.”
