Chapter Twenty #2
“I think,” I start slowly, cautiously, eyes flitting between them, “that all he needed was someone willing to want to know him like that.”
They exchange incredulous looks. “You think we don’t want to know Archie? Our friend—our family?”
I shake my head, lifting my hands in a placating gesture.
“Want is probably not the right word. Not strong enough.” I sigh.
“Yearn is more appropriate, I think. To desire to know him so desperately that you’d do anything for it—for him.
That you’d get in the car with a man who maybe-sort-of-kind-of looks like him on the off chance that you’ll end up on his doorstep, face-to-face with him.
That you’d hear ‘kidnapping’ and think ‘Archie’s delivery service’ and ask not a single question more.
He’s a person who wants to be wanted like we all do, but surely you can see that he doesn’t feel the same way that most people feel.
His emotions are heightened, which means so are his disappointments.
He loves you all, but—and this isn’t a judgment on you at all—but you can’t love him back with the same sort of intensity.
Even if you want to. Even if you try. Most people just aren’t wired with that sort of emotional bigness. ”
“But you are,” Millie says, tilting her head.
I grimace. “I’m sorry. I’m not meaning… I don’t want to come off the wrong way.
I don’t mean that I think I’m some super special better-at-loving-than-you-are person.
This isn’t some sort of self-righteous thing.
I just… I feel how Archie feels—big. When I like something, it’s all-consuming.
And then when I love something? It’s air.
Breath. The beating of my heart. There is no casual for people like us, and that can make it hard to show yourself to the people you love—especially if you know that they can’t return your love in the way that you wish they would.
We hold ourselves back to protect ourselves from the hurt of not getting back what we give out, no matter how much we understand that people can’t give it back. ”
“I don’t get it,” Heidi replies. “We love him. He’s our family. He knows that.”
My fingers twist, and Pesky comes to nose at them until I let her take their place in my lap.
“He does know that,” I confirm. “But for him it’s…
you’re not just family. You’re his sisters.
It’s the difference between a cousin and a twin, you know.
One is family, and you love them, but the other is family, and you love them. ”
Millie’s head turns toward the house, eyes glassy as she gazes at the back door. “Oh,” she says.
Heidi frowns. “You’re saying we don’t love him enough.”
My fingers dig into Pesky’s patchy fur. “I’m saying you can’t love him enough, but it’s plain to see that he gets it, and he loves you in his way regardless.”
“I can love him just as much,” she protests. “He can be my twin. I love a good twin. Call me Mary Kate.”
I laugh. “See, that’s part of the difference, though. You’re choosing that. For him, it’s not a choice. It’s breathing. It’s a beating heart. You’re not twin because he decided that you are. You’re twin because you’re twin.”
She scowls. “Well, I hate that. How dare he found family better than me.”
“I think it’s beautiful,” Millie says, turning back toward us.
“That he has all of that in him for us, and that now he gets to have it aimed at him with Sarelia.” She reaches out, laying a hand on my forearm.
“We love him,” she whispers. “I promise you, we love him so much, Sarelia. He’s our brother.
But… I see what you’re saying. About how it’s different.
I hate it, but I see it.” She takes a deep, shaky breath.
“Which means that you have to promise us that you’re going to obsess and yearn and love him so much that he won’t ever feel the absence of what we’re unable to give him again. Okay? Promise us.”
I blink, sniffing as fat, wet tears fall on Pesky’s head. “I promise,” I assure her. “After all, I’m like him. I have no other choice. Obsessing, yearning, loving—they’re the push and pull of oxygen in my chest and the rush of blood in my veins.”
“In blood!” Heidi exclaims, eyes alight. “That’s perfect! We’ll swear this in blood. We’ll make a blood pact to always love Archie to the best of our abilities in whatever way we’re able.”
“Hear, hear!” Millie agrees without hesitation, sliding her hand off my forearm. “You have a knife?” she asks.
“Of course,” Heidi says, pulling on a chain around her neck to reveal a teensy-tiny little knife dangling from the end.
“Give me your hand, Sarelia,” she orders.
No hesitation on my part, either, I do. Gladly.
After all, what’s a little bit of blood and pain when it comes to Archie? I’d give a whole lot more than this for him.
Long after our blood has clotted and we’ve settled into plush couches in the theater room, Pesky dozing on a cat bed in the corner, I think about just how much more I would give for Archie.
Glancing at their red-tipped fingers, I think that maybe his sisters would give a whole lot more, too.