Letter Twenty-Four #7
“You were on the couch with her that next morning, Casey, wearing the same clothes you wore at brunch.”
“We fell asleep watching a movie.”
“On the same couch?”
“Well, yes—”
“And you don’t care that she has a boyfriend?”
“He was never her actual boyfriend. They were just fooling around. And, anyway, she’d just ended things with him—that very same night.”
Michael’s hand stilled in my hair again. He and I hadn’t talked since then, so he didn’t know that.
“She was upset,” you told him. “So we watched a movie. We talked.”
“Oh, yeah? Is that all you did?”
“What?”
“Are you sleeping with her?” Michael asked.
“Are you serious?”
“Be honest with me, Casey. You have feelings for her, don’t you?”
You choked out a laugh. “She’s my charge.”
“I bet you love that, don’t you? Being in charge of her? Nic giving you that kind of power?”
“Oh, for God’s sake,” you muttered.
“And now that Willoughby’s out of the picture, you’ll finally have her all to yourself again.”
“All to myself? You’re over here all the time.”
“Does that bother you?” asked Michael.
“No, I’m completely fine with it. Contrary to what you think, I’m not trying to keep her from you.”
“Then why did you forbid her to hang out at my place?”
“I didn’t forbid her to hang out at your place specifically. I just—”
“But that’s what you wanted, right? That was the whole point of taking away her freedom last spring. You don’t want me touching her.”
“Well, actually, you’re—I mean, you’re touching her right now.”
“You say that like you have a problem with it,” Michael said, voice low and smug. “Do you have a problem with the way I’m touching her?”
You made a rough chuckling sound. “No. By all means, keep running your fingers through her hair. I literally don’t give a shit.”
“You look like you give a shit.”
Without seeing your face, Casey, even I could tell you gave a shit.
“I wonder,” Michael said, “what you two talk about when you’re left alone inside this house for hours. I wonder what you tell her.”
“What do you think I tell her?”
“Personal stuff you obviously don’t tell me. Like how you were adopted, for example.”
“She saw Claire over FaceTime and she asked. I didn’t volunteer that information, okay?”
A lie, Casey. That’s not how you told me at all.
“What else does she know about you that I don’t?” Michael asked.
“Nothing,” you said quickly—too quickly.
“Yeah? Maybe one of the liars she mentioned down there was you. What big things are you hiding?”
“I wouldn’t put too much stock in what she said, not after she’d been drinking. Listen, I know I hurt you—”
“Hurt? Hurt doesn’t even begin to describe how you made me feel over the summer.”
“I’m sorry, alright? Have I not made that clear? Do you want to hit me or something? Is that what you need? To finally forgive me?”
“I need you to be honest,” Michael said. “Do you have feelings for her?”
“Do you?”
“My feelings for her are purely platonic,” said Michael, and he was lying, too.
You guys couldn’t seem to be honest with each other at all. I definitely wasn’t the only one with this problem.
“I’m not so sure that’s true,” you said. “If it were, you wouldn’t be giving me the third degree about the nature of my feelings.”
“I’m looking out for her. The last thing a girl with abandonment issues needs is for you to draw her in with that whole irresistible, please-want-me thing you have going on, only to shove her away when she gets too close and sees what’s broken about you.”
“Is that what you think I did with you?”
“Yeah. I saw too much, right? I saw the way your piece-of-shit dad treated you—saw exactly why you’re so screwed up emotionally—so you kept shutting me out over there.”
“I didn’t mean to,” you said. “It’s just—people don’t typically get to see that side of my life. I don’t normally let them.”
“Except Jake. He’s definitely seen that part of your life.”
“Only because we grew up together. I didn’t choose for him to see it. He was just there.”
“And then I was there,” Michael said, “missing my whole summer at the beach to be with you so you wouldn’t have to deal with that asshole all alone, and you kept ditching me for him. For Jake. It’s like the only people who matter to you are people you have the potential to fuck.”
“That’s not true. He might’ve been my best mate growing up—and, yes, I have a certain kind of history with him—but you’re my best mate now. You mean more to me than he ever has—or ever will. You’re very important to me, Michael,” you said, so softly and delicately that my throat squeezed.
“Right,” Michael said. “I’m so important you told Elliot you were adopted a full year before you told me. So important I had to find out from my dad that you and Nic have been talking about you starting an internship at the firm.”
“It wasn’t meant to be a secret or anything. You’ve been busy with the election stuff. I would’ve told you eventually.”
“Sure,” Michael said. “Just makes me wonder if I’ll learn anything else you’d planned on telling me eventually, you know?”
You were quiet for a long time, no doubt thinking about that one thing. The life-altering thing. The I’m-your-brother thing.
“Listen,” you said, “I’ve been a shitty friend lately. I—”
“Hey,” said Michael, cutting you off. “Don’t worry about it, man. I’ll be fine. And I’ll take care of Elliot, okay? You can go now.”
I heard you heave a discontented sigh, then the sound of your footsteps as you left my room.
When Michael roused me, I faked waking from my nice little catnap—pretty convincingly, I might add—pretending I hadn’t heard a thing.
While he sat nearby, I drank a full glass of water and devoured the food, head still swimming from the scotch…
and everything I’d gleaned from that conversation.
Namely, who the hell was Jake? Had you slept with him in England over the summer? And why the fuck had I never heard about him?
For the next couple of days, I wandered around the house, listless and resigned, waiting for my dad to tell me it was time. Time to pack my bags and head to Arizona.
While you were at school one day, I headed downstairs for a snack. But when I heard my dad’s voice carrying through the house, coming from the direction of the kitchen, I stopped in the hallway to listen.
I know. I know. I shouldn’t have eavesdropped. Again.
Believe me, I wish I never had.
“You should see her,” Nic said to someone. “She mopes around here. She barely eats. She looks like she’s awaiting her execution or something.”
“She’s manipulating you, Nic.” Libby’s voice. “She’s toying with your emotions. She’s just trying to get your sympathy.”
“No,” Nic said. “She’s upset. She’s scared. She needs me to talk to her. She needs her dad.”
“She needs you to be strong enough to do the right thing,” said Libby.
“And what if it’s not the right thing? What if it does more harm than good? What if she gets in there, and she can’t handle being left, and she really hurts herself? I won’t be able to live with myself if that happens.”
“They’ll take precautions to keep her safe. You know that. You’re just coming up with excuses not to send her—because you’re scared.”
“And for good reason, Lib. You both seem to forget that.”
“Nic,” said John, “we haven’t forgotten anything. It’s a concern of ours, too.”
“Yeah? It’s my worst fucking nightmare, John. What happens to me if something happens to her? Is that a concern of yours?”