I get up with Amy the morning after I get home. “I guess it went okay?” she asks, staring into her French press like that will make the wait for her coffee go by faster. “She didn’t kick you out.”
I yawn and slurp my cereal. “Yeah. It went fine.”
The cold kitchen tiles seep into my socked feet so I curl my toes around the footrest of my stool.
“So are you guys back together now?” Her voice thrums with tension.
“No.”
Somehow it doesn’t hurt as much as I thought it would to say that. Of course, if she called me right now, I’d probably fall over trying to get to my phone.
“She wasn’t ready,” I tell Amy. “And neither am I. It’s okay. It’s for the best.”
She pours her coffee, keeping her back turned to walk to the fridge to pour in some cream.
“Amy.”
For a second, I think she’ll leave. But she stops in the doorway of the kitchen and turns to face me. In this moment, I can’t believe I let anything come between us. She’s my sister, my best friend, my womb buddy. We have twin-stinct.
I will never let anything get in the way of this, of us, again.
She doesn’t say a word, her face resigned.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
She rubs her forehead. “I’m sad. I want you to be happy and if she makes you happy, then...” She shrugs.
“I thought you’d be happy,” I admit.
Instead of getting offended she shrugs again. “Me, too.”
I nod and take a deep breath. Since my conversation with Jeremy, I’ve needed to say this.
“I know that I haven’t been a great brother,” I tell her. “I know that you think that was because of Corrine. And I guess partly it was. But, I think maybe I was mad at you after Mom died. Maybe even before. And I know—”
I raise my hand to her because I can tell by the set of her mouth she wants to argue.
“I know that whatever I was mad about wasn’t your fault...that what I was mad about had nothing to do with who took care of Mom and who didn’t. It was...resentment. I think I was mad because it’s always been Amy and her brother, you know. We’re twins but we’ve never been equal.”
Amy’s face falls and she shakes her head but I push on. I need to get all of this out. “You are bright and funny and everyone loves you.” My chest fills with warmth just talking about my sister. Because all of this is true.
“I fidget too much and I look kind of weird...”
“Wesley.” Her voice cuts through mine, sharp. There are tears in her eyes. “I don’t want to hear you say stuff like this about yourself.”
I huff out a laugh and steel myself for what I’m about to say next. “I don’t want to think it about myself anymore either. You talked before about selling the house and as much as I don’t want to leave here, I think you’re right. It’s the right thing to do, Amy. But I can’t live with you anymore when we leave. I need to figure out who I am without you.”
“You—what?” Her face drains of all color.
She sets her coffee cup down. She wrings her hands together in a motion that is totally our mother’s.
“Wes, I’m sorry. I take it back. We don’t have to sell.”
“Amy. Come on. This is what you wanted. You can use your half of the money for the restaurant.”
“Well, where will you live?” She bites at her lower lip. “You don’t have a job and—”
“Amy,” I say. “You know, you can let me figure it out for myself.”
“I can...” She drops her hands and takes a deep breath, her shoulders rising and falling with the movement. “I can do that.”
My sister smiles up at me but it’s watery and wobbly.
“If you needed some help I could get you some shifts at the restaurant. Just until you’re back on your feet. But only if you really want them,” she says. “And you can say no. I won’t be mad.”
I smile. “Thank you. I appreciate it.”
Her face falls. “I feel like...like I’m losing you again,” she warbles.
I stand and wrap my arms around her shoulders, rest my head on the top of hers. “Not at all. You’re not losing me. You never did. We’re just starting over. Instead of Amy and Wes, now we’re Amy. And Wes.”
She squeezes my rib cage. We stand together for a long time.
“I wish Mom were here,” she whispers.
I wipe a tear on the top of Amy’s head. “Me, too.”
“That better not have been snot,” she warns.
Ignoring her, I say, “At least if we’re not living together anymore, I don’t have to worry about walking in on you ever again.”
Amy pinches my triceps through my sweatshirt.
“Ow.”
“What did I tell you?” She grabs her coffee mug and turns out the doorway, stomping toward the stairs. “We never speak of that again.”
I take a nap, read a book, and watch five minutes of daytime TV before I realize that a) I haven’t relaxed in so long I don’t know how to do it anymore and b) unemployment is going to suck. My phone rings while I scroll through a job board; it’s a Hill City number.
“Wesley?” Emily says. “Can you come into the office sometime this week?”
For one long second my heart stops from excitement. Maybe I’m getting my job back. For that one second, I kind of do still want to work there, even if it’s without her.
“HR needs to do an interview with you about Richard and his intern, Mark Gutterberg.”
“Oh.”
There’s a long pause where neither of us speak and I realize that she’s waiting for me to confirm. “Umm...why do they need to interview me?”
“Well, I mean, everyone kind of knows now about why you and Corrine were both fired,” Emily says in a hushed tone.
“Right. Of course.” Okay. So Richard probably told everyone.
“But Corrine sent an email detailing months’ worth of inappropriate behavior by Richard and Mark and HR already had complaints on file for both and, well... I might have raised a bit of a stink about how they weren’t taking it seriously. They wanted to get the whole story and it turns out you featured prominently in both.”
“I’m not getting my job back.”
“Ohhhh. Oh no, honey. I’m sorry, Wesley.” She laughs in a way that sort of reminds me of me. “I mean, you were...you know...on company property. With another employee. Absolutely not.”
My chest constricts but I laugh, rubbing at the spot that hurts, right over my heart. I miss Corrine. Touching her, kissing her, making her laugh, making her smile. But I’m proud of her, too. My body doesn’t feel fully present here in my house because part of it is out the door trying to get to her. To hug her for what she’s done. To tell her how brave she is. As much as I want to be already on my way to her, I won’t go. She deserves the space to heal and so do I. I’m willing to be patient. I showed her who I am and she’s shown me. Now all we need is time.
“That’s okay,” I tell Emily. “This is good, too.”