“Nothing,” he says.
But there’s definitelysomething.
“What is it?” I probe, “It’d be alittletoo convenient for this to be the first time you don’t have an opinion on my personal life, wouldn’t it?”
Ozzy smirks as if caught. “It’s nothing really, it’s just that …” He shrugs, looking down at his beer as he twists the base of his pint glass with a finger and a thumb, then glances back up. “It doesn’t really sound over to me.”
My heart sinks, and an overwhelming urge to beg for any scraps of information he has about Connie hijacks my thoughts.
I keep my face disinterested, bringing my glass up to my face, staring into the ice before saying, “Why? Did James say something?”
I drain the last bit of Jameson from the melting ice and order another round, even though Ozzy is only halfway done with his beer.
“I don’t think it’s my place to say …”
“Fucking Christ,” I mutter under my breath. “So why did you bring it up in the first place?”
Ozzy holds up his hand in mock surrender, and I want to slap that smirk off his face.
“Look, all I’m saying is that you two are a lot more similar than you might think.” He settles back into his chair. “You both like to run away from your problems instead of fixing them.”
“You can fuck right off,” I spit, but there’s no obvious ill intent in my threat, and Ozzy chuckles, taking a large pull of his beer.
“I have had enough of my therapist trying to psychoanalyze me. I don’t need you on my case too.”
Ozzy turns serious, and—Christ, why did I have to bring up therapy?
“How is that going?”
The coaster is now a giant pile of shredded cardboard.
“Annoying.” I pause, then let out a long sigh, figuring I cangive him a better answer. “It’s, uh, harder than expected, I guess.”
Ozzy smiles. “Yeah, it always is.”
“What did you talk about when you went?”
He looks up at the ceiling as if recalling memories of his time in therapy before shifting his attention back to me.
“Mom and Dad mostly. Parentification of the eldest child. Neglect. I don’t know, like, just normal stuff, I guess.”
I scoff. “Yeah, normal stuff.” I stare at the TV. “Parentification of the eldest child? What the hell does that mean?”
Ozzy laughs. “Don’t worry about it.”
I fall silent for a few seconds, trying to decide if I want to talk about my latest session or not.
I look at my brother from the corner of my eye.
“She wants to talk about my so-called abandonment issues next week.”
Ozzy looks like he’s holding in a laugh, and in a rare instance of camaraderie, I feel like laughing with him.
“What’s so fucking funny?” I shoot back before taking a sip of whiskey, grinning into my glass.
Ozzy is now openly chuckling. “So-calledabandonment issues, he says.” I snicker but say nothing. “Forget therapy, you can just pay me, and I’ll point out the obvious.”
My smile doesn’t wane. “Asshole.”
