“It’s not my fucking job to help!” I snap. “People can only help themselves. Maybe you should consider that before signing on to babysit your new junkie boyfriend.”
Oh shit… Why am I making it worse?
As I storm out of the kitchen, my heart hurts. I want to apologize, to tell them both that I’m just scared and I don’tmean any of it. That Priya is a million times better person than I am. For an hour, I lie in bed and run through speeches and pleas and apologies in my head that I’m too confused and ashamed to deliver.
Finally, I get up, deciding to pack my suitcases and take an Uber to the airport before Priya and Jules wake. I’m too mortified to face them in the morning, knowing how I’ve fucked up. I’ll see Priya on the plane, but… I’m not ready yet.
As I cram clothes into my suitcase, I try to convince myself this is all Julian’s fault.
None of this would be happening if not for his recklessness, right? I know I should be understanding, like Mom was with her brother. But what did Mom’s patience get her? Uncle Russdied. I’m not giving Jules a free pass on being a trainwreck. Haven’t we all done that his entire life? Why doesheget to be the favorite? Jetting all over the world rock climbing and flinging money around and getting laid, no real goals, no self-discipline…
The uncharitable thoughts play on repeat, mixed with spasms of regret that send me as far as my bedroom door to go apologize before I subdue the urge.
Heartsick and frustrated, I haul my baggage—literal and metaphoric—to the front door, once again the victim of my own stupid hotheadedness and pride.
When Priya arrives at the boarding area, her eyes look red. I’m not sure if it’s because I’m an asshole or because she was sad having to say goodbye to my dumb brother. Probably both. We exchange one wary glance, and because the only empty seatsin the room are singles, she sits far away and I get another half hour of feeling miserable while she ignores me.
Once on the plane, I sling my carry-on into the overhead compartment, sidestep into my seat, and pop my sunglasses back on. Minutes later, Priya wrestles her bag in beside mine. In lieu of a greeting, she tosses something onto my lap. I pull my glasses off and inspect it.
Shit.A Violet Crumble bar—my favorite, and a little hard to find. My guilt swells even more uncomfortably as Pri plunks down next to me. I’m never sure if this habit of hers—doing something nice for me when I’ve been a total shit—is a genuine olive branch or a strategy to make me feel worse. But it’s not like I can call her out on it if it’s the latter. What am I gonna say?How dare you bring me candy after I acted like a monster?
I prop my sunglasses on top of my head and give Pri a weak smile as I hold up the Violet Crumble. “Okay, now Ireallylook like a dickhead.”
“Even better,” she says, avoiding my eyes. “Because it’s not from me. Julian got it for you.”
I mash one hand over my face, sighing. “Wow. Okay.” I stare at the candy, then break it at the approximate middle before tearing the wrapper down the seam. “Want half?”
“I’m all right—no thanks.”
I pinch the wrapper closed and set the candy aside. “You’renotall right. And I really apologize, Pri. I was super shitty. It was a cheap shot for me to act like it’s a character flaw that you’re so fucking nice.” My throat tightens, and I swallow. “I got punchy because I panicked when I caught Jules with the pills. Will you forgive me?”
She angles a side-eye my way, assessing me for sincerity. “Don’t I always?”
There’s an edge of bitterness to it that makes it clear this isn’t a casual way of saying,Yes, I forgive you. She’s gone straight to the heart of the problem, and my stomach twitches like the expectation of an undelivered punch.
“Youdoalways—yeah. And maybe you shouldn’t.” My voice cracks at the end. Pri shoots another guarded look my way, and I push onward. “Look, I know that me being a disaster is, like, a feature not a bug for you, in a weird way.” I offer a shrug, smiling. “Keeps you pretty busy, right? Always looking out for me, and foreveryone. But… do you think people won’t love you if you’re not doing something for them?”
“Of course not! Jesus. I’m… I just like to help.”
“I know, and I probably take that for granted.” My hands tangle in my lap. “It’s okay to tell me to fuck off sometimes. To stand up for yourself.”
She lifts an eyebrow. “Uh-huh, sure. Worked great last night! I tried to push back and you stomped off and then went to the airport without me.”
I fix Priya with a sober stare. “I left because I was embarrassed.” My voice is a ragged whisper, absorbed by a perky announcement spilling through the intercom. “I know I’m reactive. But… like, it’s my job—the aggressive reflex.”
Her dark, soft eyebrows rumple. “I get it. But you can’t do that withpeople. We’re more complex than cars.” She takes my hand and squeezes it. “You’re not gonna lose me. But I worry that your stubbornness and hot-tempered pride is someday going to cost you.”
I give her a wry look. “You mean like a partner? Fuck that.”
“You think you don’t care. But Julian has a point about you always needing to win. Relationships—whether it’s partners, friends, or family—aren’t about winning. If you screw up in a race, you analyze the mistakes and bring what you learned to the next one. But that’s not always possible with people. Sometimes they don’t give you another chance.”
I sit with what she’s said, focusing on the stream of passengers creeping up the aisle toward their seats. Priya lets my hand go.
I peek at her. “So… are you and Jules an actual thing?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“Because he really might have a problem. With the, uh, you know what.”
