“Why? I’m not doing anything wrong.” He picks at a blade of grass. Across the lake from us, a group of people with yoga mats under their arms starts to assemble.
“No, but… your energy has been up lately. You’ve been staying up late the last couple of nights.” I swallow hard, aware that I sound more like his babysitter than his sister. “And this morning…”
He was sitting at the table, making a list of tasks to complete and books to buy and potential places to take Rafaela on future dates. He tried to hide it—the pad of paper was covered in more doodles than writing. But I looked at the page when he was rinsing his plate and I saw all the lists, separated into three boxes that blended into the rest of the scribbles.
“Little, I don’t need anyone keeping tabs on me and I don’t need a lecture, not even from you.”
“I wouldn’t say anything if I didn’t think…” I take a breath and start over. “You know what could happen after this.”
“How do you know this is hypomania? How do you know I’m not different because I met the best girl ever? You’re not a doctor. And you know, nobody ever asked if maybe I like this part of being off the meds. It’s not all bad, you know—I’m more productive and I get shit done and don’t you think that’s better than staying in bed all day?”
“I think that… maybe it’s good now, but what if you don’t know how bad it can get? You’ve been on meds since the first episode and—”
He lightly drums his fingers against his thighs. “Sometimes… sometimes I think you’re jealous of me.”
My lips part while I pause, try to think of how I can possibly respond to that without sounding as rude as he did. “I don’t know why you’d say that to me.”
“Because I’m happy!” he says, throwing his arms wide. “Because I’m with Rafaela and she’s amazing.”
“Well, I’m with Emil and he’s amazing,” I say, wishing I didn’t sound like I’m trying to one-up him.
“But you think she’s amazing, too. Rafaela. Right?” He’s staring at me now and I’m afraid to meet his eyes, afraid to confirm that he’s saying what I think he’s saying. That somehow, he knows. Sometimes I forget that being so close with him means we can read each other in the same ways.
“I think she’s cool,” I say. “I like working with her.”
“So you should be happy. That we’re together.”
The force behind his voice makes me look at him and I wish I hadn’t.
He knows.
“I am happy for you.” I sound like I’m choking on the words, but there is no other acceptable response. Even if he doesn’t believe me, I have to say it.
“Good.” He stands and brushes off his pants and now he’s the one not looking at me. “I didn’t come to sit. Let’s walk.”
So we do. In silence.
And with each step I take, I am pounding out a regret: that I ever met Rafaela, that I ever started working at the flower shop, that I ever trusted that the abandoned meds are a secret of Lionel’s that I can handle.
I’ve never questioned my loyalty to my brother, not since that day so long ago, in Saul’s garage. The flip side of loyalty is betrayal and Lionel deserves better than that. Even when I told our parents they needed to take him to the doctor, I didn’t repeat my conversation with him. I never told.
But even I know I can’t stay in the middle forever, that when it comes to him and his health, there is no in-between. I have to make a choice.
seventeen.
DeeDee and her girlfriend are back on again, just in time for Alicia’s big Fourth of July party. We missed it last summer because they hadn’t yet met, but DeeDee says the party has been going on for years, started by Alicia’s older sister when she was in high school and still thriving since Alicia took the reins.
“Her parents go up to Big Bear every year,” Dee says when we’re up in her bedroom, getting ready before the party. We’re sitting together in front of her vanity, our butts perched on the small, velvet-covered seat. “So I guess it can get kinda wild sometimes.”
“Lion is meeting us there. With Rafaela.” I brush a curved mascara wand across the length of my eyelashes. Emil will be there, too.
It’s the first time I’ll be in the same place as both Rafaela and Emil and I’m trying not to think too hard about it, but I can’t help feeling anxious. If Lionel has noticed how I feel about her, Emil can’t be far behind. DeeDee, too. It’s probably best to stay away from her tonight—as much as I can without being obvious.
“Showing up at parties together, huh? And this is the first party he’s been to in God knows how long.” Dee runs a brush through her thick, reddish-blond hair. “Did he do a total one-eighty or what?”
I shake my head, though it’s hard to watch his behavior as closely when we’re not really talking. He’s upset with me, with the fact that I brought up his meds again. He’s not spinning out and I don’t sense he’s depressed, either, but I know it could go either way in an instant. I watch Mom and Saul when the four of us are together, but they haven’t noticed anything. So maybe Lionel is right. Maybe it’s not hypomania. Maybe he is managing his illness alone. But the rational part of me knows that would be too lucky, that more often than not, it doesn’t work that way.
“Lionel’s in love.”
“Wow.” Dee turns to look at me, her eyes wide. “Do you approve?”
“Rafaela is cool.”
Dee toys with the hairbrush in her hand. “Grace says she has shit taste in guys, so maybe she’s turning over a new leaf with your brother.”
“Maybe Grace is just jealous that Rafaela is with someone besides her.” I’m sure DeeDee isn’t aware of Rafaela’s whole story, but I feel the need to defend her.
“They’re not like that. Clean breakup.” She hesitates. “Are you still mad at Grace?”
I hold the mascara wand in midair. “Not mad. I’m not thinking about her or what happened all the time, but it’s not like she ever apologized.”
“Well, she’s embarrassed,” DeeDee says slowly. “Alicia told me she feels terrible.”
“How does she think Emil and I felt? She never said anything to us.”
DeeDee looks down at the cluttered top of the vanity. “Everyone fucks up, though, right?”
“Yeah, everyone fucks up.” I sigh. “But when you fuck up, you say you’re sorry.”
“You’re right. Do you want me to ask Alicia if she’ll apologize?”
“No.” I shake my head. “A forced apology is worse than nothing at all. Just… listening is good. Thanks for doing that.”
Alicia lives in the Valley, the utter bane of DeeDee’s existence.
“It’s just Studio City,” I say as we pass the little market off Laurel Canyon Boulevard. “That’s basically your neighborhood.”
“Oh, my dear, sweet Suzette,” she says with a sigh. “You act as if I’d date anyone who lived any deeper into the Valley. Alicia barely passed my test.”
“So things are good with you two now?”