“Will Dean go with you? Whatever you do next. Or does he have his own plans?”
“I’m not sure,” he said. “It doesn’t really seem like he’s interested in staying with me.”
She was quiet for a moment. “Did I make things weird between you two?”
“Kind of, yeah,” he admitted. “But it wasn’t just you. We all played our part in making it weird. I think it brought some things to the surface that he and I have never really dealt with.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know. Just typical sibling stuff, I guess. He was the one who got all the attention growing up—quarterback, prom king, all that. I’m sure he never saw himself…I mean…” He hesitated, unsure how to finish the sentence without sounding like a dick.
“Living in your shadow?” Lilah filled in promptly.
He let out a gruff laugh. “I guess. But it’s probably for the best that he’s been kept so busy all these years, otherwise he’d probably be out in the desert leading his own cult or something by now.”
“I was always jealous of you two, honestly. Getting paid to hang out all day. I tried to get Rory to come be my assistant after she graduated, but she thought it would mess up our relationship if she worked for me. Plus, she hates L.A.”
“She was probably right.”
“Oh, she wasabsolutelyright. I still miss her like crazy, though.” He heard rustling on the other end of the phone, like she was shifting positions. “Were you guys always this close? Even when you were kids?”
“Yeah. I was really protective of him. When we were younger…” He paused, seized by nerves all of a sudden. Why was he about to tell her this? Why did hewantto? There was something about the detachment of being on the phone with her, no distractions besides her throaty, familiar voice murmuring in his ear, playing tricks on him, making him feel safe with her.
“When we were younger,” he repeated, “our parents had…some problems. With, um. With drugs.”
There was a long pause. “Oh,” she said quietly. “I’m so sorry. I had no idea.”
“It’s okay. It was a long time ago. And it was on and off. They got clean for good when I was nine. Sorry, I mean theystopped using. Not supposed to say ‘clean.’ It’s judgmental.” He tried to clear the sudden hoarseness out of his throat. “I don’t really like to talk about it. It feels weird, bringing it up. Or, like, unfair to them, almost. Because it was so long ago, and they’re so different now. They’re amazing parents—and grandparents—and they worked fucking hard to get there.”
“It’s not unfair,” Lilah said, her voice gentler than he’d ever heard it. “It sounds like it was really tough.”
“Yeah.” His own voice sounded distant to him, the words tumbling out unselfconsciously. “It kind of feels like a dream, almost. Or like it happened to someone else. I mostly remember things feeling unstable all the time. We moved around a lot. Sometimes we lived with my grandparents. I don’t know. My therapist told me trauma can impact your memory, but I don’t really feel that traumatized by it. She calls it ‘little “t” trauma,’ which I guess can still mess you up as much as the bigger stuff. But she’s been helping me see all the places it still pops up sometimes.”
“Wait, you’re seeing a therapist? By yourself? Since when?”
“Oh,” he said. “I got some names from Dr. Deena, a couple of months ago. I just thought…since she’s helped us so much. And it helped my parents, too. Might be worth a shot to help me figure my own shit out.”
She was silent again, so he continued, filling the space, trying not to get self-conscious. “Anyway. I think that’s why my relationship with Dean is the way it is. I don’t know if I ever grew out of feeling like I was one of his parents.”
“That makes a lot of sense. I’m sure he’s grateful for it. Then, and now.”
“Mmm. Maybe not so much now.”
Lilah laughed a little in the back of her throat. “Maybe not.” She paused. “Thank you for telling me.”
“Yeah. Sure,” he said.
He thought the conversation might end there, but for some reason, he still couldn’t make himself get off the phone. He found himself telling her about how his dad’s annual tradition of dressing up as Santa for Cassie’s kids had been complicated by his decision to grow a long, white beard of his own over the past year, which had confused rather than delighted them. In return, she filled him in on how she, Rory, Rory’s husband, and their newborn daughter would be shuttling back and forth between their parents’ places practically daily for the duration of their visit.
“Divorced for twenty years, still live within five miles of each other, still fight every time they see each other. How’s that for dysfunctional?”
“Sounds familiar, actually,” he said, gratified when she laughed.
It turned out she was, in fact, currently in her childhood bedroom, which had been transformed into her dad’s office—with the exception of a single shelf crammed with every ribbon, trophy, and certificate she or Rory had ever won.
“I think you could probably fit all my high school achievements on a coaster,” Shane said ruefully. “Cassie went through first with straight A’s, so all our teachers were set up for disappointment once Dean and I came around.”
“Didn’t you tell me you were a punk in high school? Did I make that up?”
