“Don’t apologize.” Grant and I reply in tandem. He says, “It’s strange you haven’t seen it though. You live on social media. There’s no way you would’ve missed it.”
Billie gulps. Her arms drop back to her side and she walks down the paved path again. We follow soundlessly. There’s another fact about my sister engrained into my heart.
She’s a people-pleaser. Painfully so. She’ll sacrifice every part of herself to keep the peace, with her friends and within our family. She makes up for silent spaces with jokes she doesn’t really think are funny and silently suffer for everyone else.
There are only a few people she doesn’t force that persona around. I’m one of them, and for the first time now, Grant. Seeing her do this—slump her shoulders and show any sort of discomfort—means something is really,reallywrong.
I brought them here for me, originally. So I could be around people who understand me and can comfort me with just their presence. Observing my little sister like this reminds me that our sibling bond works both ways. I’m okay with putting my problems on the back burner while I wait for Billie to confide in us. I can be there for her just as she is for me.
Silent minutes pass. The only sounds are a few kids in the opposite direction laughing, and the slow lift and fall of boots on a sidewalk. We don’t rush her. We wait.
Eventually, Billie kicks a rock down the stone pathway and mumbles, “AJ and I aren’t friends anymore.”
“What?!”
Together, we stop. My voice echoes. My little sister turns around, tears gathering in her eyes, and Grant immediately wraps her in his arms.
I’m not even halfway recovered from shock when she starts crying. He’s patting her head slowly, awkwardly looking between us, and my life feels like it’s officially unhinged from everything I thought I knew.
“Who’s…” My brother’s voice barely carries over Billie’s sobs. “Who’s AJ?”
I should say something. I want to, but I’m too frozen in shock to move or do anything. I don’t have a good answer, honestly. To Billie, AJ is everything.
My hands are locking themselves in my hair when she sniffles and backs away from Grant’s chest.
“AJ is-” She coughs, cries a bit more, then breathes. “Was. AJ was my best friend.”
“He was more than your best friend.”
I instantly regret saying it. Agony covers her face, and she starts sobbing into Grant’s chest again.
“I’m sorry Billie. I’m just… so shocked.”
My little sister cries. Louder this time, grabbing onto the arm I offer her while she stays stuck to Grant’s side. I’m devastated for her. Half of my brain goes into older-brother-protective mode. Immediately wanting to call AJ and ask him why the fuck my sister is sobbing her eyes out. The other half is still struggling to process everything.
Grant’s elbow knocks into mine and he starts mouthing words silently.
What’s going on?
Billie still has her head down. I let her cry, and reply wordlessly, trying not to add salt into a wound I never thought would be there.
AJ is the guy she likes.
I shake my head. That’s wrong. Saying she likes him is such a belittlement of what they are to each other.
Childhood best friends. They do everything together.
My free hand is making small motions, trying to emphasize what over a decade of friendship and growing together means, but I don’t know if it’s possible. I’ve seen Billie develop with AJ her entire life. From daycare to now. He’s her constant.
Growing up, she’d always change what hobby she liked, or what job she wanted when she got older, but one thing stuck. Billie was always sure AJ was the first and only boy she’d ever love.
I don’t know if something that deep can be explained over autumn winds and quiet cries.
Her soulmate.
I wince. From saying something so cheesy about my sister, and from the fact that it’s true. He can’t be described as anything else.
Grant nods and leans his head onto Billie’s. I squeeze her arm. We stay there, silently comforting her and letting her expel the emotions that must be killing her. I wonder how long she had this bottled up, and realization hits me all at once.
