“I’m getting scared,” I told Poppy.
We were in his kitchen. He was making me a PB&J sandwich. Without the J. He forgot to get jelly. There are lots of things his house doesn’t have yet.
So he said, “This about your brother by any chance?”
I told him it was.
He handed me the sandwich. “Milk?”
“Yes, please,” I said. “Do you have chocolate syrup by any chance?”
“Sorry,” he said. “So—it seems like you were mad at first. Then sad.” He gave me a glass of milk. “Now you’re scared?”
I stared at my lunch. “Yeah.”
“How so?”
“We’re writing our journals, you know? Like you said?”
“Right. Good.”
“Well, we always kind of knew what the other one was writing. But now I don’t know. I, like, try to tune in to him. But I can’t.”
“Eat your sandwich.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“I’m not going to talk to you unless you eat.”
I took a bite. “Talk.”
“So why does that scare you?”
“Because it means I’m losing him.”
He chuckled. “You’re not losing him.”
“I’m glad you think it’s funny.”
He came over to my chair, lifted me off, sat down, and plunked me onto his lap. “I don’t think it’s funny. I just think you’re wrong, that’s all. You’re never going to lose him. He’ll always be your brother. This is just a phase.”
I pounded the table. “Phase, my hiney. It’s bad enough he doesn’t want to be around me anymore. But now our goombla is starting to go away.” I quick turned to look into his face. Our noses bumped. “Poppy…” In his eyes I found all the love there was, and still it wasn’t enough. “Poppy, we’re becoming untangled!” I was crying again.
He hugged me and rocked me for a while. He put the sandwich in front of my face. Finally I took another bite.
“I’d wipe your tears with a napkin,” he said, “except I don’t have napkins.”
“You don’t have anything,” I sniveled. “Who ever heard of a house without jelly?”
“Let me know when you’re finished feeling sorry for yourself,” he said. “I have something to say.”
I wanted to grump for a year, but I only lasted a minute. “Okay,” I said finally, “what do you have to say?”
He tapped the table twice with his fingernail. “I think I know your problem.”
“Big deal,” I said. “I know it too. It’s him.”
“I don’t think so,” he said. “I think”—he pointed—“it’s you.”
I sneered. “Right, Poppy. I’m being dumped by my own brother and it’s my fault.”
He stared at me for a long time, squinting, then he said, “You know what you need?”
“I can’t wait,” I said. “What?”
“A life.”
“Huh?”
“You need a life.”
I looked around. I couldn’t find a mirror. I pulled at my shirt. I poked my stomach. “Isn’t this me? Aren’t I real? Alive? What am I—a ghost?”
“You’re too wrapped up in your brother. You need a life of your own. Not a Lily-and-Jake life. A Lily life.”
“But you’re the one who said we’re entangled. Now you’re telling me I’m too wrapped up in him? Did you lie to us before?”
“No, I didn’t lie.” He got up. He sat on the edge of the table. “It’s true, there is something very special between you and Jake. And it will always be there. But you can’t allow it to stop you from becoming your own person. There’s a life waiting for you away from Jake. You need to find it.”
I turned away. I looked out the window. I saw backyards and fences and houses and sky. I remembered the day at the beach: Jake and me secretly grinning under our parents’ scolding, knowing we weren’t really lost, knowing—even if we were at opposite ends of the universe—we could never be lost. I tried to imagine life away from Jake. I couldn’t.
I turned to Poppy. He was getting blurry. I felt my lip quiver. I croaked, “I don’t have a life!”