“What’s going on?” Emil’s voice is calm, but his face is unsmiling.
“What do you mean?” For some reason, I don’t want to make this easy for him.
“I’ve been watching you watch them all night.”
“I’m sorry if I’m worried about my brother, but—”
He shakes his head. “No, you were watching her.”
I don’t look at him as I speak. “I’m not checking out every girl just because I’m bi.”
Everything freezes, just for a moment; this is the first time I’ve said it so definitively, without questioning what I am. Emil doesn’t seem to notice or care.
“Come on, Suzette. Give me more credit than that.” He shoves his hands into the pockets of his hoodie. “I’ve seen you around other girls. It’s not the same.”
“I don’t know what you want me to say.”
He exhales. “Do you like her?”
“No.” Then, a second later: “I don’t know.”
“So, I guess that’s a yes.” He pauses. “That night at the party… did something happen with you and her? When you went upstairs?”
“Emil, no. Nothing has happened with Rafaela. Ever.”
“But you’ve wanted it to.” Not a question.
I look up at him, at his face twisted into an expression I hope to never see again, full of anger and hurt. And I’m the one causing him to look that way. “I like you. I’m here with you.”
“I kind of feel like you’re here for everyone but me.”
“What?”
“Like you’re keeping tabs on Rafaela because you like her. And listen… I get that you’re close to your brother and you want to be there for him, but it’s like you feel responsible for everything he does. He doesn’t need to be looked after by his little sister. He needs real help, Suzette.”
“He’s still going to his therapist,” I mumble to the tree. But I’m not even sure if that’s true anymore.
“Seriously? Because as worried as you seem… wouldn’t his therapist know something is wrong, too?”
“I don’t know, Emil. He barely talks to me anymore.” Maybe he’s successfully managed to skip appointments or convinced Dr. T and my parents that he’s ready to cut back on them, or perhaps he’s simply so good at hiding his symptoms when he needs to that no one suspects anything is out of the ordinary. “I feel like shit.”
“That’s exactly my point. You don’t deserve to feel that way.”
“He’s my brother!” I cry out so loudly that a man walking by jumps a little. “What am I supposed to do? Let him go through this alone? I was gone for the entire school year—the least I can do is be here for him now.”
“You didn’t abandon him, Suzette. He had your parents and doctors and… it’s not like they couldn’t get by without you here.”
“Oh, so now it doesn’t matter whether I’m around or not? Thanks, Emil.” I start to stalk off, but he touches my elbow, gently pulls me back to him.
“You know I didn’t mean it like that. You’re…” He swallows hard. “You’re one of the best people I know. I hate seeing you caught up in this shit. And I hate that I care so much.”
“Well, I hate being caught up in it.” I swallow before what I say next. And I say it softly. “Why do you care so much?”
“You mean why have I always liked you?” He laughs a little, but I know he doesn’t think anything about this conversation is funny. “I would’ve turned it off a long time ago if I could have. I never thought you’d like me back and now… God, I sound like such an asshole.”
I don’t say anything in response and after a few seconds, he goes on.
“You know how our moms studied abroad in France their senior year?”
I nod. “Paris.”
“They loved it so much they promised to give their first kids French names.”
“What?” I take a step back.
“Emil and Suzette.” He exhales, and now he’s talking to the tree, too. “I’ve always thought it meant something, like we’re cosmically linked. Our moms are best friends. They had us the same year and ended up living a couple of miles away from each other. Our names… I thought we were soul mates.”
I blink, focused on his shoulder. “My mom never told me that.”
He looks at me now. “You know, I always felt weird growing up, having a French first name and a Korean last name and dark skin. People don’t know what to do with all that. But knowing you made me feel a little more normal. Like at least we shared two of those things.”
“Emil…”
“I don’t want to be with you if you’re into someone else, Suzette. I’m not saying you have to choose, but I can’t keep hanging out with you and her… not with the way you look at her. I like you too much to be okay with that.”
His voice chokes at the end and he walks away then and he doesn’t stop when I call his name.
I trail him back to the blanket, staying a few feet behind. I don’t know what to say after that. I don’t know how to feel about what he said. I’ve never seen Emil so upset, and I never thought I’d be the one to make him feel that way.
Lionel is gone when I get back to the blanket and I stop myself from asking where he is. Rafaela and Emil are sitting as far apart as possible, not talking.
She looks up when I sit down between them, her eyes asking me what’s going on, but I give an almost imperceptible head shake and turn back toward the screen. The kids in the movie are all at some big party in a huge field not unlike the one we’re currently gathered in, minus the gravestones and plus something called a moon tower. They’re having a lot more fun than any of us on this blanket.
Rafaela starts to look around after a while. I’m now nervous about any interactions with her around Emil, but I’m almost relieved when she leans in to whisper because I’m so aware of how quiet he is on the other side of me. He hasn’t looked my way once since I sat back down.
But then she says: “Lionel’s been gone for kind of a long time.”
“Where did he go?”
“To the bathroom, but that wasn’t long after you guys left.”
I frown. “I didn’t see him.”
Which doesn’t mean anything. There are tons of people here, and the area by the toilets can get crowded. But I’m usually so good at spotting Lionel in a crowd.
“I’ve texted him a couple of times and he’s not responding,” she says, her own eyebrows scrunched together.
I pull out my phone and call him, but of course he doesn’t pick up. If he’s not responding to Rafaela, he’s definitely not going to answer for me. Still, I leave a quick message telling him to call me. I keep my phone out.
“Maybe he went for a walk and lost track of time.” She chews on her thumbnail.
“Maybe,” I say, but it’s obvious neither of us believes that.
Emil finally glances over, but he remains silent.
By the time the credits begin to roll and people are packing up their things, I’m worried. Rafaela and I haven’t stopped staring at our phones. Emil reluctantly asks what’s going on without quite looking at either of us.
“Lionel’s gone,” she says.